Nico’s POVI stood across the street, leaning lightly against the lamppost, my eyes fixed on her. Amelie. Or Chiara, as she called herself now. The name still felt foreign on my tongue, but the person beneath it—her laughter, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the tilt of her head as she listened to him—was unmistakable. She had grown into herself, into this life, and yet, she was still hers, still untouchable in a way that made my chest ache.The man with her—Elias—moved with that careful ease, arms occasionally brushing hers, his voice soft but sure, protective in a way that made my skin crawl. I had done my research. I knew Elias wouldn’t harm her. He had no reason to. He had no connection to the chaos that had defined her life before she disappeared from mine. And yet, every laugh they shared, every small, intimate gesture, twisted the knife deeper into me.I hated it. Seeing her happy with someone that wasn’t me. But that was all I wanted, to see her happy even if it was
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