LOGINAREŚThe water is freezing, but I barely feel it.All I can feel is her. Small and weightless, pressed against me, trembling like a goddamn leaf. I hold her tighter than I should, tighter than I mean to...like if I loosen my grip, even slightly she’ll slip away again.What the fuck was she thinking? Throwing herself into the pool fully clothed and half-drunk. What if I hadn’t been home. What if I’d spotted her a minute later. She would have fucking drowned. I would have been dragging her cold, dead body out of the water, and that thought angers me more than I’d like to admit.For a moment, neither of us moves. She just looks at me, utterly broken and lost, as though she’s already halfway gone.And for the first time in longer than I can remember, something sharp pinches in my chest. A crack I didn’t even know was still there.Fuck. The devastation in her eyes feels like a punch straight to the ribs.And you want to know the real kicker? I can’t fucking stand it.Those blue eyes of her
JORDYNRed and blue lights strobe against the smoke, against the wreckage, against everything that still doesn’t feel real. Sirens tear through the air, growing louder until they’re right on top of us.Matteo tries to turn me away, shielding me with his body, but I fight him, struggling against his grip, desperate to see.“No,” I sob. “I need to be with them...I need to—”“Jordyn, stop,” Matteo says, voice rough with something that sounds too much like pain. “You don’t want to see this, Tesoro.” I barely hear him over the chaos as paramedics flood the scene, shouting, running, pulling open the twisted doors of the car.I catch a glimpse. Just one.My father’s wedding ring, glinting under the flashing lights.A scream builds in my chest, but it doesn’t make it out.Matteo pulls me back again, one hand cradling my head against his chest as if he can shield me from the truth if he just holds me hard enough.I squeeze my eyes shut, but it’s too late. The images are burned behind my eyelid
JORDYNThe morning after Enzo and Bianca’s wedding is chaotic in the best way. Loud, bright, and brimming with laughter. The Russo manor hums with energy while we gather around the grand dining table, plates overflowing with lavish Italian breakfast spreads. Sunlight pours in through the tall windows like nature’s Instagram filter. Honestly, it’s almost suspicious how perfect everything looks.At the head of the table is Luciano Russo. Enzo’s father. Silent, but somehow louder than everyone else combined. My parents sit beside Bianca and Enzo, all still glowing from last night’s fairytale. And then there’s Matteo and me, sitting side by side and pretending our knees haven’t been bumping like nervous passengers in a turbulence zone.I lift my porcelain cup, inhale the perfect scent of latte, and take a slow, dramatic sip while observing Luciano. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit sharper than my sarcasm, silver streaking through perfectly styled hair, his expression carved from stone.The
AREŚShe smelled like prosecco, patchouli, and something far worse...trouble wrapped in nostalgia and the kind of sweetness that tricks you into leaning in before it burns. I don’t even like patchouli. But somehow her scent’s been living rent-free in my ribcage ever since. I should’ve turned back the second I saw her. Should’ve said nothing. Should’ve let her fall. But I didn’t.Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and caught her. Felt her chest against minei, her heart beating against it like a bird that fell out of its nest. Her fingers curled into my shirt like she didn’t even realise she’d done it. Like her body trusted me before her mind could protest.And for a second, for whatever reason...I didn’t want to let go.She looked at me like I was the one who had taken the air from her lungs.Perhaps I had.I told myself it was curiosity, that’s all. She didn’t belong here, and I don’t like surprises. Especially not barefoot girls wandering through my land like it’s their
JORDYNDon’t look so wary, Jord. It’s one drink!” Bianca chirps, radiant and annoyingly persuasive.Enzo gathers us all into a semi-formal circle of forced camaraderie—his bride, my parents, me, and the ever-brooding Matteo. There’s something ritualistic about it, like we’re part of a ceremony to summon the god of awkward family bonding through liquor.The air’s warm and humid, thick with perfume, sweat, and the sharp tang of freshly poured drinks. Twinkling fairy lights flicker overhead like they’re watching me make bad decisions in real time.With a sigh that’s basically an exorcism, I reach for the tiny glass of amber liquid. I bring it to my nose and sniff. Almonds. Cherry. Possibly regret.“What is this?” I ask, peering into the glass like it might whisper back.I swore off hard liquor after an unfortunate incident at seventeen involving too many vodka shots, a karaoke rendition of “Like a Virgin", and three days of lying in bed convinced my brain was leaking. Turns out, I’m a l
JORDYN A quiet knock on the door stirs me from my peaceful slumber. “Jordyn, it’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”With an audible groan, I hug the pillow and nestle my face into plushness with a quiet and content moan. “Five more minutes.” The bedroom door creaks as it slowly opens, and I hear the lithe footsteps of my mother, Anna, as she walks into the guest bedroom and over to my bed.“That’s what you said five minutes ago. Your sister is already up and getting ready and as her maid of honour, you should be by her side, not in bed, lazy bum. Come on, it’s her big day and she’s already full of nerves.” With a grunt of reluctance, I roll over onto my back and peel open one eye to see my mother standing over me with a loving smile. My dad always insists that I'm a spitting image of her, but I can't see it. Sure, we both have dark blue eyes and long sandy blonde hair, but aside from that, I don't think we share many similarities. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face as she le







