The bus ride home was slow and quiet, the kind where time felt stretched between streetlights and the low hum of tires against the road.
Luca sat by the window, cheek pressed to the cool glass, watching buildings blur past in a daze of orange glow and shadow.
He didn't listen to music.
Didn't scroll his phone.
Just stared, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands, the faintest trace of Noel's cologne still clinging to the fabric.The scent was almost gone now—but it still held him.
By the time the bus hissed to a stop near his neighborhood, the sky had deepened into a soft indigo, stars barely peeking through the city's haze.
Luca stepped off and walked the quiet stretch home, passing familiar hedges and trimmed fences.
His street was calm, the kind of upper-class quiet money could buy—tall iron gates, distant porch lights, and the occasional soft splash of a garden fountain.
He reached the black metal gate and held up his pass.
A beep. The gate slid open with a mechanical hum.
