Something like surprise flickered across Luca's face before he hurried into the elevator, Celina tucked close beside him.
As the doors slid shut, I caught my own reflection in the polished steel—and superimposed over it, a ghost of who I used to be. When Aunt Mina had first moved here years ago, Luca had been just as attentive. Running errands. Carrying my things. Smiling as he welcomed me into his home, calling me his "future lady of the house."
How easily history repeats itself with a different face.
Watching the elevator numbers climb, Aunt Mina let out a soft, regretful sigh.
"Are you certain you don't want me to speak with him? You've known each other so long. If this ends over a misunderstanding, it would be such a waste."
I shook my head slowly. "There's nothing to clarify. Luca never lets things fester overnight—that's his rule. If he hasn't explained himself by now, then there's nothing left to explain."
In truth, Luca and Celina hadn't brought much to move. One trip should have sufficed. But after I finished delivering everything to Aunt Mina's apartment and said my goodbyes, there was still no sign of him downstairs.