Chapter 240: Chapter 240.

Isabella.

I woke up with a softness in my chest that I had not felt in days, and for a few quiet seconds I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting that feeling settle instead of questioning it too quickly and ruining it for myself.

Then my mind slowly caught up.

Last night.

The memory came back in pieces at first, the warmth of his arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath my ear, the way he did not push me away when I held onto him like I needed him to stay. It all came rushing back at once, and my lips curved into a slow, helpless smile that I could not hold back even if I tried.

I turned my head slightly.

His side of the bed was empty.

But it was not untouched.

The sheets were creased, his pillow slightly sunken, like he had only just left and the space still remembered him. I stared at it longer than I probably should have, my fingers drifting over the fabric as if I could still catch some trace of his warmth there.

Something inside me tightened, but it was not painful this time.

It was.....hopeful.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the dull ache in my lower abdomen, and reached for my phone. The moment the screen lit up and I saw his name, my heart stumbled so hard it almost felt ridiculous.

A message from Luca.

After a whole week of silence.

After a whole week of pretending like I did not exist.

My fingers hovered for a second before I opened it, almost like I was scared it would disappear if I moved too fast.

“I had to leave early for business. How are your cramps?”

My breath left me slowly, and before I knew it, I was smiling at my phone like an idiot.

It was such a simple message.

Anyone else would have overlooked it.

But to me, it meant everything.

He cared.

He still cared.

I typed my reply quickly, not wanting to overthink it and ruin the moment.

“Good morning baby! Still hurting but yeah, I’m fine. Take care of yourself. I’m going home for something.”

I stared at the message for a second before sending it, my thumb hesitating just slightly, then I let it go.

The moment it was delivered, I placed the phone down and got out of bed, my movements faster now, more purposeful.

There was a quiet determination building inside me, something steady and stubborn. I could feel it clearly. Last night had not been nothing. I had seen it in the way he held me, the way his body reacted to me, the way he did not pull away even when he could have.

He was coming back to me.

Slowly.

And I was not going to sit around and wait for it.

I freshened up quickly, not wasting any time, and as soon as I was done, I grabbed my bag and left.

By the time I got home, my mind was already set on what I wanted to do.

The moment I stepped inside, I called out, my voice echoing through the house.

“Mara! Mara!”

There was a small pause before her door opened, and she peeked out, her expression calm but slightly curious.

“Good morning,” she said. “Do you need something?”

I moved toward the kitchen as I spoke, already pulling my bag off my shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I just....I want to cook for Luca. I need your help. It’s an Italian dish. I found a recipe online, but I don’t trust myself enough to do it alone.”

She studied me for a second, then nodded.

“I will be out in a minute.”

Relief washed over me instantly.

“Thank you. I love you,” I said without thinking.

I did not wait for her to respond before I started pulling everything out of my bag, placing the ingredients carefully on the counter one after the other.

I had planned this.

I researched it.

Prepared for it.

And now that I was actually standing here, about to do it, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety twisting together in my chest.

Cooking was not my thing.

At all.

But this was for him.

That made it different.

I reached for my iPad and scrolled through my history until I found the recipe video, setting it up in front of me.

Right then, Mara walked into the kitchen.

Her eyes moved over the counter, taking in everything I had already arranged.

“I thought I would need to go to the market,” she said. “You seem to have everything.”

“I wanted to make sure I was doing it properly,” I replied, glancing at her. “By myself.”

Her lips curved slightly. “This must be about your boyfriend.”

“It obviously is,” I said, letting out a small breath. “I hate cooking. I really do. All that effort just for something that might not even taste good feels like a waste to me. But this....I want to do it right.”

“I hope you improve today,” she said lightly.

“I hope so too,” I admitted.

She nodded once. “Let’s start.”

And we did.

At first, it felt manageable.

I followed the instructions carefully, trying to keep up, measuring things properly, stirring when I needed to, paying attention to every detail like it actually mattered.

But then I burnt the garlic.

Completely.

The smell hit first, sharp and unmistakable, and when I looked down at the pan, it was already too late.

I froze for a second.

Then I turned to Mara slowly.

“I messed up.”

She glanced at the pan, then back at me. “We will do it again.”

“I knew this would happen,” I said, exhaling deeply, running a hand through my hair. “I knew I wouldn’t get it right the first time.”

“Then you try again,” she replied calmly.

So I did.

And this time, I paid even more attention.

Every step.

Every movement.

Every little detail.

Time passed without me noticing, and at some point, the anxiety faded, replaced by focus. I stopped thinking too much and just followed through.

And when it was done....

I stood there, staring at it.

It actually looked good.

Better than I expected.

“Is it.....done?” I asked quietly.

Mara nodded. “Yes.”

I let out a slow breath, something like relief and disbelief mixing together.

I carefully transferred it into a container, sealing it properly before turning to her.

“Thank you. Really.”

She gave a small nod. “Go on.”

I did not waste time.

I went upstairs, quickly cleaning myself up, washing away the traces of cooking before stepping into Luca’s room.

The moment I walked in, his presence hit me all over again.

His scent.

His space.

Everything.

I hesitated for just a second before moving toward his closet, opening it and reaching for one of his hoodies. I slipped it on, the fabric soft against my skin, then grabbed a pair of his shorts.

They fit just right, mainly because of my ass but whatever.

I glanced at myself briefly before picking up the container and heading out again.

When I got to his office, he was not there.

The small spark of excitement I had been holding onto dimmed just a little, but I pushed it aside and walked to his desk, placing the container down carefully.

I turned toward the mini bar, already thinking about the next step.

His favorite wine.

If I was doing this, I was doing it properly.

But when I checked, it was not there.

I paused.

Then sighed softly.

Before I could decide what to do next, my phone buzzed in my hand.

I looked down.

Luca.

My heart reacted instantly, faster than my thoughts.

“I’m around but in the basement. Are you back?”

A small smile formed on my lips as I typed my reply.

“Yeah I’m back.”

I left immediately, went to get the wine, and came back about twenty minutes later.

I stepped inside, my mind already focused on seeing him, on how he would react, on whether today would finally be the day everything went back to normal.

I turned toward the stairs.

Then I saw it.

And everything inside me dropped so suddenly it felt like I had missed a step I never took.

The container.

Open.

On the table.

And a female worker standing there, eating from it like it belonged to her.

Eating from it. Actually fucking eating from it.

I stopped walking.

My grip on the wine bottle tightened without me realizing it.

For a second, I thought I was seeing it wrong.

That maybe it was not mine.

That maybe it was something else.

But it was.

I recognized it instantly.

The container.

The food.

Everything.

My chest tightened slowly, painfully, like something was pressing down on it from the inside.

She kept eating.

Like it meant nothing.

Like it was just food.

But it wasn’t just food.

Not to me.

I stayed there longer than I should have, unable to move, unable to look away, my thoughts running over each other in a way that made no sense but still hurt all the same.

No one noticed me.

The club was quiet, almost empty, and the few workers around were busy with their own things, not sparing me a glance.

Which was good.

Because I could feel it building.

That tight, burning feeling behind my eyes.

I swallowed hard, forcing it down, forcing myself to breathe.

Then, slowly, I turned away.

My steps felt heavier now.

Slower.

Each one dragging just a little more than the last as I made my way toward the basement.

I did not fully understand what I was feeling.

But I knew one thing.

It hurt.