Imposter Syndrome

Pellestrina

"Is it really you?" she whispered as he sat beside her, curling his arm around her shoulder as she nestled closer in his embrace.

Karlo laughed. "Who else would it be?"

You remember me. A tear slid down her cheek, then another.

"Sofie," he continued. "Why are you crying?"

"B-because," she said between sniffles, "I never t-thought—that this—this could be us," Sofie whispered in return. I never dared hope—that I—that we—could be happy.

His hand gently stroked her cheek, tracing tears as if they were the most exquisite of dewdrops after a summer's rain, as their hug fast became kisses.

"Why here?" she couldn't help but ask, sometime later, as they finally stood, their muscles aching from having sat for so long. Hands held tight, their free hands traced the path of glimmering tea lights until the very end of the bridge, where country transformed into bustling Old World city.

"A place to ourselves. Where the walls won't have ears."

Oh right, Gary. She nodded in understanding. "But you need a place to stay—"

"I can just—" he gestured outward. Camp here?

She shook her head, vehemently so. "No way. You're coming with me!" He chuckled, allowing her to lead the way, twilight scenery shifting beneath the pair as their arms linked, tighter and tighter still—

A familiar green geometric pattern, rust-rose walls, a tall window—doors—a brick interior—

Finally, they landed in her bedroom and surrounding lounge area, a compact chamber filled with cozy vestiges of home—a cushion here and there, lightly-used books stacked in multiple piles, glittering glow lights to one wall, a ceiling full of cloud-shaped sconce lighting, a carpet, a sofa and blanket—

"Sorry," she muttered apologetically. "It's kind of a mess—"

He put a finger to her lips as she fell silent. "It's wonderful."

Half an hour later, once they were settled in, the room shadowed save for the faintest glimmers of moonlight, she looked over at him, only to find him glancing admiringly back at her. "What?" she asked curiously, drawing the blankets closer.

"Have I told you how amazing you are?" Beauty, power, and resilience—my future—my one and only—I love—

She bit her lip. "Have I told you I can read minds?"

"I guessed. Awhile ago. But I trust you. And—" he paused, staring deep within her eyes, as if to capture a glimpse of her soul. "Sofie, I love you."

Those three words. "I love you too, Karlo," she whispered, her hand reaching for his, as hours of darkness eventually turned to light.

The next morning, she awoke to familiar surroundings. Her cloud-shaped overhead light sconces. Her fast-multiplying piles upon piles of books (a bookshelf was next on her purchase list), and—she looked down at her hand, still clasping—she inhaled sharply—Karlo's own.

So the bridge—the reunion—it really happened!

But what came after the reuniting? She still had a job to do, as ambassador, and she both worked and lived in this Florentine locale of hers. After a shared breakfast of poached eggs, fresh-cut vegetables, fruit, plus yogurt, she returned to her office, mere feet away, with Karlo in tow.

"Who is he?"

Barely suppressing an eyeroll, she glanced at the inquisitive unicorn, surprisingly alert in his tapestry. "A trusted...friend." Ok, definitely more than friend, she tried to indicate wordlessly to Karlo mere seconds later, but he didn't seem to have minded, instead being curious about the mechanics of a sentient fantasy creature inhabiting a woven fabric. "Karlo, Gary. Gary, Karlo."