Chapter 189: When the Mask Slipped

Chapter 189: When the Mask Slipped
Aurora

I nodded, the weight of it settling in my chest again. “Yeah. I told him I had late reports to finish. Felt bad lying.”

“You should tell him, Aurora,” Eleanora said gently, swirling the ice in her drink.

“I know,” I murmured, my voice softer than I intended. “I just… I don’t want him to overreact. Or worse, tell me not to see you anymore.”

Her expression shifted, something quiet and complicated flashing in her eyes before she masked it with a small smile. “Does your mum know about us meeting up?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said, her tone laced with faint amusement. “She made a huge fuss about it, of course. But I’m an adult; she can’t really stop me.”

“Yeah…” I breathed out, tracing a fingertip along the condensation on my glass. “Figures.”

Our food arrived then, and for a while, we let conversation give way to clinking cutlery and murmured appreciation. The salmon was tender, rich with saffron, and my pasta was perfectly creamy with earthy truffle notes.

“This is so good,” I said between bites.

“Right? Worth the hype,” Eleanora agreed, leaning back in her seat.

After we finished, Eleanora suggested taking pictures. We stepped out to the deck, the golden fairy lights casting a warm glow on the water. She pulled me close for a few selfies, and we took turns snapping photos of each other with the lake as our backdrop, laughing at our failed attempts to get the “perfect” candid shot.

Not ready to call it a night, we wandered into a tucked‑away section of the park where there was a pop‑up lawn game area. Adults lounged around with drinks, playing oversized versions of games like Jenga, cornhole, and ring toss. Eleanora dragged me into a round of giant Jenga, and soon we were both laughing, cheering, and trash‑talking each other like kids.

But somewhere between turns, a heavy fatigue began creeping up on me. My eyelids felt heavier with every blink, and a slow throb pulsed at the back of my head.

“You okay?” Eleanora asked, eyeing me curiously as I fumbled with one of the wooden blocks.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just… tired.”

“Do you want to head home?”

“No, don’t worry,” I said quickly, pushing the words out with a weak laugh. “I’m fine.”

But the dizziness worsened, my head buzzing in a way that made it hard to focus. I tried to steady myself, blinking rapidly, but my vision kept blurring at the edges.

Eleanora’s brow furrowed. “Aurora… are you sure you’re okay?”

I hesitated, pressing a hand to my temple. “Not really. I—I feel very dizzy. Everything’s… blurry.”

Concern flared across her face. “Should I take you home? Or maybe a clinic?”

“Home’s fine,” I murmured, swallowing hard against the rising nausea.

We abandoned the game, and Eleanora looped an arm around me as we made our way toward the exit. Each step made my head spin harder, the world tilting alarmingly.

By the time we reached the pathway leading to the parking lot, my legs buckled, and the darkness rushing in from the edges of my vision finally swallowed me whole.

And then, everything went black.

Leonardo

I leaned back in my chair, the edge of the blueprint pressing into my palm as I rubbed at the tight line forming between my brows. I still hadn’t gotten Aurora’s rejection off my mind.

I mean calling it a rejection was a bit too much, but they were all the same. She apologized, saying she couldn’t make dinner tonight because she had to stay late at work and I knew she was busy, but it still sat heavy in my chest.

Lately, she’d been… different. Not distant, not exactly, but there was something in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, something in the pauses between her words. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I got her away from her desk and into the right setting, she’d open up to me. Dinner had seemed like the perfect excuse.

But she’d said no.

I sighed and refocused on the spread of plans Salvatore had left on my desk earlier—a full layout for the boutique hotel in Verona we’d been contracted to revamp. Neutral tones with deep walnut accents, custom light fixtures, and a lobby designed to feel like a gallery more than a waiting area. It was good work. Clean. Exactly the kind of project our firm built its reputation on.

And yet, I couldn’t make myself care.

Finishing the final notes for the client, I snapped the folder shut and got to my feet. The lingering unease gnawed at me, sharper now, until I finally gave in and left the office.

The night air bit cool against my face as I pulled over at the roadside bakery Aurora loved. I hadn’t been there in weeks, but the smell of cinnamon sugar hit instantly—warm, sweet, grounding. I ordered her favorite: a box of cinnamon-sugar buns with the extra cream and cheese drizzle she always insisted on.

By the time I reached her office building, the streets of Rome were washed in gold and shadow. The receptionist didn’t ask questions—they all knew who I was—and I headed straight for her floor, balancing the warm box in one hand.

The elevator doors slid open, and almost immediately I came face to face with Lucia.

She froze.

“Leonardo,” she said, her voice pitched oddly high.

I slowed, my brows drawing together. “Lucia.”

She blinked rapidly, almost as if she hadn’t expected to see me. “You’re… here,” she said after a beat, her tone laced with something I couldn’t quite place. Then, hastily, “Why are you here?”

I stared at her, confusion knitting tighter in my chest. “Why else would I be here?”

Her eyes widened slightly, and then the expression fell away, replaced by something closer to regret. “I—sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She gave a nervous smile, one that didn’t quite land, and shifted as if to step aside.

Her nervous smile didn’t settle. Instead, she started rambling, “I mean—it’s obvious you’re here to see Aurora,” her gaze flicked to the box in my hand before she went on, “it’s just that there’s… one tiny problem.” She gestured vaguely with her hand, then stopped, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

The pause dragged.

I felt my jaw tighten. “Talk. You’re wasting my time.”