Whisper

A ray of light slid between the curtains, brushing over the wrinkled sheets and the warm shadows left by sleep.
The scent of rain mixed with old wood floated in the air-fragile, almost fading.

Elias slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.
Then he saw her.

Sitting across from the bed, legs crossed, wrapped in a long beige robe, Aria was watching him.
Her damp hair fell in messy strands, and her gaze seemed to search for questions she didn't dare to ask.

He sat up slowly, grabbed the shirt he had left by the bed, and draped it over his shoulders without buttoning it.
A soft smile tugged at his tired lips.

- "Are you spying on me in my sleep now?" he murmured.

Aria looked away, a little flustered.

- "You looked calm. Different... Like last night changed you."

Elias stood up. Barefoot, he crossed the room and knelt in front of her.
His eyes locked onto hers-unguarded, unwavering.

- "It did," he said softly. "And I don't regret a thing."

Aria frowned slightly, hesitant.

- "Maria saw us this morning. She didn't say anything, but she knows."

Elias shrugged, almost defiantly.

- "Let her know. Let her write it in the sky if she wants. I don't care."

His gaze darkened slightly. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. Then his fingers slid down her wrist, as if trying to memorize each heartbeat under her skin.

- "I love you, Seraphina. Enough to burn my beliefs. To lose myself, if I must."

She stared at him, frozen. Yet she gently pulled her hand back, creating a distance her eyes didn't agree with.

- "Then tell me, Elias... what are you going to do about Don Marcello?"

Silence fell. Sharp and heavy. A silence louder than bloodstained memories.

- "We can't stay here," Elias said, slowly buttoning his shirt.
Each movement carried the weight of a decision already made.

- "This country... it was just a stopover. A bubble between two worlds."

- "Where are we exactly?" Aria asked, her brows drawn together.

He looked at her, almost surprised that she was asking now.

- "Slovenia. A lost place near Kamnik. Somewhere no one comes looking for ghosts."

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, serious but gentle.

- "But the ghosts followed me. And now... they're watching you too."

She didn't answer right away. The silence grew, filled with an unspoken agreement.

- "I have an apartment in Florence," he continued. "In Italy. My real shelter. My job. My territory. There, I can protect us. There, I am Elias-fully."

- "And you want to go... now?" she whispered, almost reluctantly.

- "Not alone."

He paused, the lightness gone from his voice.

- "I want you to come with me."

- "Yes," she breathed, without thinking.
One word, but it rang in the air like an unbreakable promise.

He moved closer, fingers brushing the edge of her robe, his gaze burning.