Luca

Althaia

I sank into the bathtub, feeling the warmth of the water and the tickle of bubbles on my skin. The water enveloped me, and I let out a contented sigh, feeling the knots in my muscles start to loosen.

I made a mental note that I would never again wear flats to an amusement park.

I felt the weight of exhaustion settling over me, lulling me toward slumber. The previous night had been sleepless, leaving an undeniable imprint on my features. Every time I shut my eyes, I would hear sounds of gunshots in my mind, and I would wake up, startled. In the end, I gave up and spent the night tracing the curves and lines of Damiano's tattoos with my fingers, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Damiano didn’t sleep either, but I doubt he was awake for the same reasons. He was awake, comforting me by tracing smooth circles on my back. It was so calming that, under normal circumstances, I would have been asleep in seconds.

What happened played repeatedly in my mind, and t