A goodbye never said (by EliIsCool555)

Chapter 17

Michael's POV:

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I pulled up to Melissa's apartment building, the soft rumble of my Ferrari's engine fading as I parked. There was something comforting about driving it from Italy—the familiar hum reminding me of home, even though I was far from it. I stepped out, taking in the sight of the building. It was modern and tidy, but something about it felt warm—cozy.

I liked it here. Even though it was an apartment, smaller than anything I was used to, it felt like home in a way I hadn't expected. Maybe it was the way the place was arranged, the little touches that made it personal. Maybe it was the fact that Melissa had carved out a life for herself here, a life that felt complete even when I wasn't part of it.

I walked toward the entrance, the cool evening air surrounding me as I stepped inside. The faint scent of dinner, pizza no doubt, hit me immediately as I made my way toward the door. I could already hear the sound of laughter, the girls' voices carrying through the apartment. When I walked in, I was met with the sight of Melissa's parents and the girls, all greeting me with smiles that made me feel more at ease.

"Michael!" Gianni, Melissa's dad, greeted, his voice deep and welcoming. "Come in, come in! Pizza's waiting for you."

The smell of the pizza hit me full force, instantly bringing back memories of past dinners, of evenings spent around this table with Melissa's family. There was a familiarity to it, something that made me feel like I wasn't just a guest, but part of something.

The girls ran up to me, eager to chat, and one of them asked, "Are you going to help us make pizza today?"

"I'll try not to burn it," I said with a grin, though the humor was just a thin layer over the sense of unease that still clung to me. It was strange being back here, not with Melissa at my side, but I pushed those thoughts aside and followed them into the kitchen.

Gianni was already working with the dough, his hands quick and sure as he prepared for the next round of pizzas. The kitchen in this apartment was small, but it was enough. There was a certain charm to it, the way everything had its place, the way everything seemed to belong. It wasn't grand, but it was cozy in a way that made me feel welcome, in a way that had always made Melissa feel at home.

As I worked on the dough, trying to look like I knew what I was doing, I glanced at the framed photo of Melissa's grandpa on the wall above the counter. I'd always liked that picture of him—his warm smile, the way he looked so content standing next to Melissa when she was a little girl. The image hit me in a way I didn't expect.

I paused, my hands stilling on the dough for a moment. "It's hard, you know?" I said quietly. "Seeing him up there... I miss him."

Gianni didn't stop working, but he did look up at me, his expression softening. "We all miss him. Every time we sit down for a meal, it feels like he's still here. That's what he would have wanted, you know? His spirit is in every pizza we make, in everything we do as a family."

I nodded, the ache in my chest growing a little. He was right. I had always admired how Melissa's grandpa had made this family feel like more than just relatives. He'd made it a unit, a team—everyone playing their part, supporting each other. And now, with his absence, there was a gap. But the way Melissa's family carried on, it was clear he'd left something behind that was unshakable.

Dinner came together quickly, and soon we were all sitting at the table, passing pizza around. I watched as the girls piled their slices high with toppings, their excitement and energy filling the room. The laughter flowed freely, but I couldn't shake the feeling of loss. Even surrounded by these familiar faces, there was still something missing.