The evening had deepened into shades of amber and violet, the last traces of daylight spilling faintly across the room. Luca lay sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes. The silence pressed gently around him, broken only by the soft rustle of curtains shifting in the evening breeze.
What a strange situation… He exhaled through his nose, lips pulling into a half-smile that lacked conviction. And I can't even talk about it with anyone. Not Aurelia. Not Vincent. Not anyone.
"I'll think more about it when I have more information—if such a situation occurs again," he muttered aloud, the words tasting hollow but steady enough to anchor him.
Pushing himself up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching as a low sigh left his chest. His head still felt faintly heavy, but restlessness stirred stronger than weariness. He needed air. Movement. Distraction.
