225Matteo’s POVI stared at my phone, willing it to light up with a message, a call, anything. But the screen remained dark, the silence stretching longer and heavier with every passing minute.It had been two days since Gianna left the dinner table and, by extension, my life—at least, that’s what it felt like. Two days of her refusing to answer my calls, ignoring my texts, and shutting me out completely.The last message I’d sent was still unread: “Gianna, please. I need to talk to you.”I clenched my jaw, tossing the phone onto the couch next to me. It landed face down with a dull thud, mocking me with its lack of response.This wasn’t like her. Gianna wasn’t the type to play games or hold grudges. She was calm, understanding, always the voice of reason when I let my temper get the better of me. But now, I couldn’t reach her. Not even to say I was sorry for what happened at dinner.And the worst part? I knew exactly who to blame.“Emilia,” I muttered under my breath, running a hand
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