Matt.
Zara.
My family.
“Did… did any of my team get the same offer?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“No, just you,” he says. “You stood out. I need an answer in three days. I’ll send the details to your email. Congratulations, son.”
The line clicks off.
I just sit there, staring at my phone as if it might explode.
Nonna leans over. “So? Who was that?”
I swallow. “Uh, no one.”
She raises an eyebrow. “No onedoesn’t make you look like that.”
I shake my head. “Just… something about volleyball.”
Her whole face lights up. “Volleyball! See? I told you! You are destined for greatness! Just like your Nonno.”
There it is.
That look of pride — the one that makes me feel seen and invisible all at once.
I force a smile. “Yeah. Just like Nonno.”
She starts packing up the towels, humming. “Come, come. We will go home. I will make dinner, and then you pack. I want to steal a few more hours before the world takes you away again, babino.”
I nod, but my chest feels tight. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The whole walk home, her voice is soft, talking about recipes and tomatoes and how my grandfather would be proud.
But I’m not really listening.
All I can hear is that man’s voice in my head.
We want you.
Two weeks.
Just you.
***
The next morning, I’m on the plane.
The seatbelt light blinks on, and I stare out the window as Italy gets smaller and smaller beneath the clouds.
My reflection in the glass looks like someone else. Someone who has just been handed everything he ever wanted — but isn’t sure if he can take it.
If I go, I’d be living the dream.
The team. The fame. The recognition.
If I stay… I’d be with them.
