That makes me cry harder.
Chapter 20
Luca
The pilot’s voice buzzes faintly through the speakers, announcing our landing in Italy, but I barely hear him.
I’m too busy staring out the tiny window, watching the clouds melt into orange.
Italy looks the same as always.
I’m just sitting there, pretending my chest doesn’t feel like it’s been scooped out and left somewhere over the Atlantic.
Tilly still doesn’t and will never feel anything for me.
I kept replaying it, the way she said it. Almost like it’s just a fact.
It’s not just a fact for me.
Because facts don’t rip out your insides and dump them down the drain.
The thing that hurts the most is that I don’t even blame her.
I tell myself I came here for space.
For a break.
For family.
But deep down, I just need to stop seeing her face everywhere I look.
I love her still, but I need to push it back a little and look at her without either feeling sick or over the moon.
When the plane finally lands, the exhaustion hits me like a wave.
The kind that drags you under and makes you forget which way is up.
By the time I get through baggage claim, I feel like a zombie.
A six-foot-tall heartbreak in a blue hoodie, dragging a suitcase and a thousand what-ifs behind him.
The airport doors slide open, and the warm air hits me
Italy smells like memories that I hope will erase some of the memories I need a break from.
My chest tightens.
I haven’t been back since I was fifteen, but everything comes flooding in at once — the endless beaches, the kids chasing each other down the pier, Nonna yelling at me to eat more pasta even though I had three bowls.
The bus ride to her town is long, quiet, and I feel numb.
Sometimes, when emotions hurt you more than you can bear, I erase them.
It’s a form of relief that I never learned to stop using.
The sun is dipping low, painting everything in soft honey light.
I know that Tilly would love this view.
