What We Left in the Dark

Twenty Four

I shook the remnants of the dream from my mind, the unsettling mix of desire and confusion still clinging to me like a second skin. There was no sense in lingering on it, no point in trying to decipher what it meant. I had more pressing matters to deal with, starting with getting out of bed and facing the day.

I pushed the covers aside and slipped into a pair of comfortable leggings and a loose shirt, needing the soft fabric against my skin to ground me. My body still hummed with tension, but I forced myself to move. The best thing I could do right now was distract myself—anything to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

The living room, my sanctuary, called to me like a soothing balm. The lush green plants that surrounded the space had always been my refuge, a source of calm amidst the chaos of life. I reached for the watering can on the windowsill, my fingers brushing against the smooth ceramic as I made my way toward my fiddle leaf fig, one of my favorite plants.

The large, glossy leaves had always fascinated me, their vibrant green color a reminder that life could be beautiful, even in the midst of uncertainty. As I gently wiped the dust from one of the leaves, my mind drifted to a memory—a day I hadn't thought about in a long time.

It had been years ago, back when Giancarlo and I were still in college. He'd taken me to the botanical gardens for a date, a gesture that had seemed so simple yet turned into something unforgettable.

The sun had been high in the sky that day, casting a warm glow over everything as we wandered through the lush paths of the botanical gardens. Giancarlo had insisted on taking me somewhere special, and as we strolled hand in hand, I realized just how thoughtful he could be when he wanted to.

We walked through rows of flowers, their sweet fragrance filling the air. The gardens were alive with color—deep purples, vibrant yellows, and soft pinks all blending together in a beautiful display of nature's beauty. Giancarlo had been quiet for most of the day, but his hand had never left mine, his thumb gently tracing patterns across my skin as we moved through the different sections.

He had a way of making the world around him seem smaller, as if nothing else existed but the two of us. Every glance, every touch, carried an unspoken promise that made my heart race.

"I thought you'd like this," he had said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the gardens. "I know how much you love being outside. Are you sure you aren't a tree hugger?"

He laughed, but I couldn't join along in his joke. I simply smiled, leaning into his side as we stopped in front of a row of blooming roses. "It's perfect," I had whispered, my heart swelling with affection. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Giancarlo had turned to face me, his dark eyes filled with something deeper than I had ever seen before. He didn't say anything at first, just watched me with that intense gaze of his, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.

And then, without warning, he had reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

"I love you, Cat."

The words had been so soft, so unexpected, that for a moment, I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. My breath had caught in my throat, my heart skipping a beat as the weight of his confession settled over me.

"I love you," he had repeated, his voice steady, though there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made my chest tighten. "I've been wanting to tell you for a while now, but I wanted it to be perfect. And today... well, today feels perfect."

I had stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to process what he had just said. Giancarlo Ricci—confident, untouchable Giancarlo—was standing in front of me, telling me he loved me with a sincerity that took my breath away.