𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀

𝟖

❣︎

ADRIANO

I sit at my desk, the letter spread open in front of me, its words burning into my mind.

I've read it countless times, each repetition solidifying my resolve.

The threats in its lines are unmistakable, a stark reminder of the dangers still lurking.

My jaw clenches as I vow to protect Adriana, no matter the cost.

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting long shadows across the room.

Yet, the warmth of the light does nothing to chase away the chill that has settled over me.

Leaning back in my chair, I let out a heavy sigh, my eyes never leaving the letter.

The past few months have been a whirlwind of emotions and revelations. Finding Adriana again, seeing the pain she carries, has reignited a fierce protective instinct within me.

I'll never let her get hurt again. Not by anyone.

The memory of her mother and stepfather haunts me. The scars they left on her are not just physical but emotional, etched deep into her soul.

The thought of anyone causing her more pain fills me with a rage I can barely contain.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I quickly fold the letter and tuck it away in a drawer. "Come in," I call out, forcing a semblance of calm into my voice.

It's Matteo, his expression mirroring the concern I feel. "Everything alright, Papà?"

I nod, though the weight of the responsibility feels heavier than ever. "Yes, Matteo. Just...thinking. We need to be vigilant. Adriana's safety is our top priority."

He steps closer, his gaze steady. "We'll keep her safe. No one will ever hurt her again."

I meet his eyes, grateful for his unwavering support. "I know, son. I know. But we must be prepared for anything."

As Matteo leaves, I lean back once more, my resolve hardening. No matter what it takes, I'll protect my daughter.

I'll ensure she has the future she deserves, free from fear and pain.

Adriana will never be hurt again—not while I'm here to stand between her and any threat that dares to come her way.

❣︎

ADRIANA

Morning light filtered through my curtains, casting a soft glow across my room.

I blinked groggily, still feeling the remnants of last night's discomfort in my stomach.

I had dinner in my room last night because I wasn't feeling well.

   As I reached for my phone and started my usual routine of scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, something felt off—a strange sensation, an unfamiliar heaviness.

I pushed the covers back and froze. There was a red patch on the sheets where I had been lying.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked down at my pajama shorts and saw the same crimson stain.

Panic rose in my chest. I had never had my period before—how could this be happening now?

   I stood up, my mind racing. The blood felt like a betrayal, a stark reminder of my body's transition into something new and unknown.