❛❛She was the voice that calmed the storm in him❞
࿇࿇࿇
"Ti amo." his voice was barey above a whisper as placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
Dante held me in his arms, his fingers brushing through my hair.
My heart fluttered. "I love you m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I S A B E L L A
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the shell on the nightstand. Small, delicate, and worn smooth by the waves.
I reach out, running my fingers over them, and a small smile tugs at my lips. Dante had given it to me yesterday when we walked along the shore, and told me to get one similar to mine so we could match.
But as that thought settles, so does the pang in my chest. Because today isn't just any day. It's the last one.
By tonight, I'll be gone. And I might never see him again.
I close my eyes for a second, inhaling slowly.
No thinking about that right now. Just get through today.
My stomach growls, breaking me out of my thoughts.
Right. Food first.
Pushing the blankets off, I get up, rubbing my eyes as I walk out of my room, fully expecting to search the kitchen for something to eat.
What I don't expect is to see Dante already there, standing by the stove, flipping eggs like he's been doing this his whole life.
The smell of butter, toast, and something warm fills the air.
I pause, leaning against the doorway, watching him for a second. His dark hair is a little messy, the way it always is in the morning, and he's wearing just sweatpants and a loose shirt. The sleeves are pushed up, showing the tattoos on his forearms, the ones I always pretend not to stare at.
I wish I could color his tattoos.
"You're cooking?" I finally ask, crossing my arms.
Dante glances over his shoulder, eyes flicking to mine before he smirks. "I do eat, you know."
I roll my eyes, stepping further in. "Yeah, but I figured you just scared your food into cooking itself."
He lets out a small chuckle, making my heart flutter. His voice was deep, raspy and all I wanted was to hear him laugh again.
Shaking his head as he slides the eggs onto a plate. "Sit."
I don't argue, plopping onto one of the stools by the kitchen island. He sets a plate in front of me—eggs, toast, and a little bit of avocado on the side. It looks simple, but when I take a bite, my eyes widen.
Oh. My. God.
"Wait- what the hell," I say, pointing my fork at him. "Why is this so good?"
Dante leans against the counter, sipping his coffee like he's unaffected. "Because I made it." A smile curls on the corner of his lips.
I narrow my eyes at him. "You made it, or you threatened it?"
