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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As soon as Matteo left the room, I felt like I could finally breathe. But it wasn't relief—not really. It was more like the weight of everything hit me all at once, and I couldn't hold back anymore.
I sank back against the pillows, pulling my knees to my chest as the tears I'd been trying to fight finally spilled over.
I hated this. Hated how weak I felt, how helpless. I hated that I pushed Matteo away when, deep down, I didn't want to.
But I couldn't stand him looking at me like that—like he pitied me. It made my skin crawl, made me feel small.
I wiped at my face, frustrated with myself for crying.
I wasn't a kid anymore.
I wasn't supposed to fall apart like this.
But I couldn't help it. The moment Matteo reached for me, all I could think about was Marco. The way he grabbed me, the way I had no control.
And Matteo's comment, even if he didn't mean it the way it sounded—it cut deeper than he knew.
"Look how that turned out last time..."
His words played on a loop in my head, twisting the knife further. He didn't get it. He couldn't. He was strong.
He didn't have to deal with feeling powerless, feeling like someone else had control over your body.
And the worst part?
He was right.
I hadn't been able to protect myself. I let them pin me down, I couldn't stop it, and the shame of that was eating me alive.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking. I didn't want to be this person—this broken, fragile version of myself. I wanted to be stronger, tougher, like Matteo.
Like I could handle anything. But I wasn't, and pretending like I could was exhausting. Every day felt like a battle, and I was tired of fighting. Tired of always feeling like I had to defend myself, to prove I wasn't weak.
But deep down, I still felt like I was.
The silence in the room was suffocating. Matteo was just down the hall, but it felt like he was miles away.
And part of me wanted to run after him, to apologize, to let him hold me like I knew he wanted to. But I couldn't. I didn't even know how to start.
I wiped at my eyes again, sniffling as I stared at the door. I didn't know how to fix this. How to stop feeling like this. But more than anything, I hated that I pushed him away.
Matteo didn't deserve that. I knew he was just trying to help, but I didn't want help—I wanted to be able to stand on my own.
But the truth was, I didn't know if I could anymore.
