In the heart of a modern city, two rival families hold the power. Valentina, a fiercely loyal daughter, and Matteo, a cunning and determined son, find themselves on opposite sides of a dangerous feud. But when their paths unexpectedly intertwine, th...
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"Then stop acting like one," Valentina shot back, her voice cold and cutting.
Her words stung, but I wasn't about to let her push me away again. "You don't get it, do you?" I said, trying to rein in my frustration. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"That's your excuse every time, Matteo," she snapped, her eyes blazing. "You always say you didn't want to hurt me, or you didn't mean to, but somehow, I'm the one who's always hurting."
I clenched my jaw, knowing she wasn't wrong. I had hurt her—whether it was intentional or not, it didn't matter. She was tired, and I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes darkened.
"I'm tired, Matteo," she said, her voice sharp but laced with weariness.
I took a step closer, my voice low. "Then stop fighting me, Val."
Her eyes flickered with something—hesitation, maybe—but it was quickly replaced with defiance. She turned as if to walk away, but I wasn't about to let her leave like that. Not this time.
I reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward me. "Matteo—" she started, but I didn't let her finish.
I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in, my lips crashing against hers. For a heartbeat, she froze, but then her body softened against mine.
Her hands gripped my shirt, and she kissed me back, at first tentative, but then with more force, more urgency.
I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her tighter, as if I could keep her from slipping away. The tension that had been pulling us apart for so long melted in that kiss, leaving behind nothing but the raw intensity of the moment.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, and I deepened the kiss, tasting the frustration and need she had been holding back for so long.
Her lips moved against mine with a fire that matched my own, and the world around us seemed to fade.
Nothing mattered but this—the way we fit together, the way her body pressed into mine, the way her breath mingled with mine.
The kiss lingered, growing more desperate with each second, as if we were trying to hold on to something we both knew we couldn't afford to lose.
She was my anchor, and for those few stolen moments, everything else faded into nothing.
When I finally pulled away, her face was a mask of conflict. She stepped back, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "That was a mistake," she said sharply, her voice trembling with emotion.
Before I could respond, she turned and stormed away. I stood there, bewildered, watching her retreating figure.
What just happened?
I thought the kiss meant something. She had kissed me back, right?
I was left standing alone, my heart pounding with confusion and frustration. Had I misunderstood everything?
