𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵

30 - Xuízo Erróneo.

I woke up to the soft sound of Alessandro's breathing beside me. He was lying face down, shirtless, his face buried between our pillows. It almost made me smile to see him so unguarded. But when my eyes drifted over his back, the smile faded.

For the first time, I really noticed the scars on his back. His chest was covered in tattoos, but his back was mostly bare, making each scar stand out. They weren't the clean lines of knife wounds, not as sharp. They were rough, as if caused by something blunt, and they looked old enough that I wondered how long he'd carried them. My heart tightened, a dull ache spreading as I took them in, feeling tears start to well up.

Alessandro had always been a mystery. I knew so little about his past—only the fragments he let slip now and then. I'd been waiting, hoping he'd open up on his own one day, but he didn't seem the type. Gently, I lowered myself beside him, trying not to wake him. He was such a light sleeper. Leaning down, I pressed my lips to one of the scars, soft and tender, barely a whisper of a kiss.

Suddenly, he jerked awake, twisting up in surprise like he'd been caught off guard. His eyes flew open, and for a moment, he looked genuinely afraid. He pulled back, moving to grab his shirt from the nearby couch, but I reached out, placing a hand on his arm to stop him.

"You don't have to hide from me," I said softly. "Not from me."

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. For a second, he seemed to be searching my face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe trust. But then the wall came back up, and his eyes turned cold, that usual guarded look back in place.

"There's nothing worth telling here," he muttered, his voice detached. It was the same voice he'd used since Billy's death, like he'd shut down a part of himself to cope. It had been over a week now, and he still felt a million miles away, somewhere I couldn't reach.

I placed my hands on either side of his face, pulling his gaze back to me. "Everything about you," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his, "is worth telling."

For just a moment, I felt him soften, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into me, his breathing slowing, like he was letting me in. But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, standing up and grabbing his shirt before leaving the room. Whatever those scars were, they ran deeper than I'd thought. But I couldn't just let him drift off on his own. He might not say it, but he needed me, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

I slipped out of bed and walked into the closet, changing into a soft pink floral mini dress, one that brushed just above my knees. I threw on my white Converse, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door. He'd been retreating to the conference room the last few days, spending hours alone, keeping some of his clothes there just to avoid coming back to our room—to avoid me.

Alessandro was already halfway to his car when I spotted him in the driveway, keys in hand and that look that told me he was on his way somewhere.

"Mind if I come along?" I called out, hoping he wouldn't say no. He turned, a hint of confusion crossing his face as he took in the sight of me standing there, looking dressed and ready. "I just... don't feel like staying home today," I added with a small shrug.