|Adriano|
"Here is my sweet boy…My one and only grandchild."- Gappy I mean my grandfather Giuseppe embraced me into a tight hug, he loves me so much and spoiled me to the core. He was the one I had everything, I just needed to open my mouth and the things were present before my eyes, no matter how expensive it was, no matter how unnecessary it was.
If I want I get.
"I am good , Gappy. Really good."- I said, as We sat together in the garden, talking about college and my friends. Absent-mindedly, I opened Instagram. A new notification popped up. My eyes widened the moment I opened the profile.
Penelope.
A slow smile spread across my lips, and without realizing it, I licked them. Gappy leaned closer, peeking at my phone.
"Whoa," he said with a chuckle. "This girl is hot. New girlfriend?"
I smiled faintly and shook my head. "No, Gappy. It's not like that. You know I'm with Isabella."
Even as I said it, my eyes drifted to another picture of Penelope.
Damn. She was hot.
"That girl…" Gappy muttered dismissively. "I never thought you two would last this long. I always thought it was just time pass."
He didn't sound bothered at all that I was still with Isabella. I never understood his dislike for her. Whenever I asked, he'd only say I deserved someone better.
The conversation shifted to cars. He told me he was planning to get me another one—a Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail, the latest model. I nearly jumped in happiness. But he made me promise not to tell my parents. If they found out, they'd stop him, like always.
I left soon after, driving through the city when my phone rang.
William.
I put it on speaker.
"Hey," he said eagerly. "I need your Pagani Zonda HP Barchetta."
"All of a sudden?" I teased. "What's the reason? Or are you trying to impress someone?"
"Yes," he admitted instantly. "It's Pene. I asked her out tonight. You know my father's still here, and under his presence, I'm not allowed to touch any of his cars."
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"Pene?" I repeated slowly. "You mean Penelope—Ivan's sister?"
"And she agreed?" I asked, my knuckles turning white without me realizing it.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't she?" William said casually. "I'll come by your place, okay? Just give me the keys."
The call ended. My jaw clenched. Moments later, I parked the car and stepped inside, a strange, uncomfortable feeling settling in my chest.
When I entered the room, I saw Isa lying on the bed. She gave me a small smile, but I wasn't in the mood for anything—not talking, not explaining, not pretending.
I went straight to the bathroom to freshen up, hoping it would calm me down. After drying my hair, I noticed the coffee on the desk. I picked it up and took a slow sip. The warmth eased something tight in my chest, and I stretched my back, letting out a quiet breath.
Then Isa started again."I'm asking about that girl—Penelope," she said sharply. "Why are you behaving like some creep who couldn't even take his eyes off her?"Her words hit me like acid on skin.
I felt anger rise fast—hot and uncontrollable. I was already irritated, already exhausted, and now every sentence she spoke pushed me closer to the edge.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose red, her voice rising as she screamed. She knew I hated raised voices. She knew that. And yet, every time we fought, she lost control. She didn't care how it affected me.
That's what hurt the most. It was always me trying. Me adjusting. Me holding things together.
My mind went blank when she screamed again, accusing me—calling me a pervert, a creep who couldn't control himself just because some girl was attractive. Something snapped inside me.
I didn't even realize what I was doing when I slammed the coffee cup. The sound echoed in the room, her eyes went wide in shock as she couldn't believe in her eyes, her eyes darted once the shattered coffee cup then towards me.
We were childhood friends.
I had known her since she was five, and I was eight. Even back then, she was the same—bossy, commanding, acting like everyone around her existed to follow her rules. If someone ignored her or went against her, it made her angry. How dare anyone have the audacity to say no to her?
Her parents never raised their voices at her. Maybe that was why she grew up this way—confident to the point of arrogance, used to getting what she wanted without resistance but I liked her.
Mostly because we were always together. We grew up hanging out every day, and honestly, I didn't have much of a choice. She clung to me constantly—always close, always present, always in my space. It became normal. Familiar.
So when she turned eighteen, I proposed that we make things official. She wanted to give the relationship a name so I did. I never imagined that one day, this relationship would feel like a bone stuck in my throat—something I couldn't swallow, and couldn't get rid of either.
"I didn't touch her. I didn't flirt. I didn't betray you. But here you are, accusing me like I committed a crime. Maybe the problem isn't her," I said cruelly. "Maybe it's you. Your insecurity. Your need to control everything and if this is how you react every time another woman exists near me,"
I just left with slamming the door harshly.
I clutched my head, breathing hard. I wanted something strong—anything to numb the noise in my head. But at the same time, I was scared. I didn't want to lose my sanity like last time. I knew myself too well. Whenever I got drunk, I did something terrible. And the last time... I had crossed a line I could never erase. I couldn't make that mistake again.
A few minutes later, a car horn broke the silence. It was William. He stepped out and looked at me, clearly about to ask something, but I shut him down with a look before he could speak. He sighed, making a face. "Another fight?'
That annoying expression on his face only made my anger worse. I threw the car keys at him without saying a word. He caught them, shook his head, and drove away. We didn't talk at all.
I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The accusations were still tearing at my chest. I didn't know how long I stood there. One cigarette turned into another. By the time I checked, I had already finished four.
I glanced at my phone.11:00 p.m.
I closed my eyes, exhausted.
Quietly, I walked back inside and opened the bedroom door. She was sleeping on her stomach. As I stepped closer, my throat tightened. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw the pillow beneath her face—already soaked from crying. I took a shaky breath.
Gently, I pulled the blanket over her, careful not to wake her. Then I lay down beside her, turning my back toward her, putting distance between us even while sharing the same bed.
I need a long sleep or maybe I need….. a break.