Not allowed
Luca’s POV
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
I sat behind my desk, fingers loosely clasped, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Papers were spread before me, documents I’d reviewed a thousand times already... but I hadn’t absorbed a single word in the last hour.
My thoughts refused to stay where they were supposed to.
They kept drifting back to her.
Aria.
The way she had looked at me earlier... angry, hurt, guarded. The way she had shoved me, screamed at me, demanded I leave. I let her. I let her push me away because I thought that was what she needed.
But the truth was uglier.
I hadn’t gone back because I was afraid.
Not of her anger.
But of what I saw beneath it.
She still loved me.
And I didn’t know how to carry that without breaking.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling through my nose. The familiar pressure settled in my chest; not pain, not yet... but the reminder that time was no longer on my side.
Twenty-nine days.
I scoffed quietly, though there was no humor in it.
I had accepted my fate long ago. Made peace with it in ways most people wouldn’t understand. Death didn’t scare me.
What terrified me… was Aria loving me through it.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Marcus stepped inside, pausing briefly when his eyes landed on my face. He’d known me long enough to read the silence.
“You called for me?” he asked.
“Yes.” I straightened. “Sit.”
He did.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I studied him carefully... the way his shoulders were tense, the way his jaw tightened slightly.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said finally.
Marcus looked up. “Anything.”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “I want you to tell Aria about my illness."
His eyes hardened. "What?”
I gave him the instructions calmly... Marcus listened without interruption, though his brows slowly drew together.
When I finished, he hesitated. “Boss… are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But Ms Aria...”
“I know,” I cut in quietly. "But I can't do it."
He nodded slowly, unease flickering across his face. “Alright.”
“Good.” I stood. “You may go.”
Marcus left, but the weight in my chest didn’t.
I had just asked Marcus to tell Aria about my illness because I couldn't do it myself.
I waited a few minutes before moving. Told myself it was for composure... but really, I was bracing myself.
Then I headed for her room.
The door was ajar.
I heard her before I saw her.
Crying.
My steps faltered.
That sound... soft, broken, unguarded, hit me harder than any bullet ever had. I stopped just outside the door, my hand hovering uselessly at my side as something twisted painfully in my chest.
I had known she would be upset.
I hadn’t known it would sound like this.
I pushed the door open slowly.
She was sitting on the bed, shoulders shaking, tears dripping down her chin as she clutched a spoon in her trembling hand. The bowl of soup sat on the table beside her.
My chest tightened.
She was crying because of me.
Because of what she knew.
Because of what I was leaving behind.
“Aria?” I called softly.
She froze.
Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes red and swollen, lashes wet with tears. When she looked at me, it was like she didn’t quite believe I was real.
I crossed the room in quick strides. “Why are you crying?”
I placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her toward me. She felt fragile beneath my touch... too light, too breakable.
“Does anything hurt?” I asked urgently. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head.
And then she broke.
Her sobs tore free, violent and unrestrained. Her body shook against mine as she cried like she had been holding it all in for far too long.
I panicked.
I’d faced death without blinking... but this? This terrified me.
I didn’t know what to do with her tears.
I pulled her into my arms instinctively, wrapping her against my chest, my hand pressing gently to the back of her head.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I truly am. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t even know what I was apologizing for anymore. Everything, perhaps.
She tried to push me away, weakly, but I held her. Not too tight, but firm enough that she couldn’t disappear from me.
“I promise everything will be fine,” I said, though the words tasted like lies. “I promise.”
I never lied... Not to her at least.
Those words, they were like a half truth, a probability.
I would try as much as I could to make everything fine for her.
Her crying worsened.
And then...
“How can you promise that,” she sobbed, “when you only have twenty-nine days left?”
My body went cold.
“What?” I whispered.
How did she...
“How did you...”
The look on her face answered me before she said another word.
Marcus.
She hit me then.
Hard.
I didn’t stop her.
She screamed at me... accused me, blamed me, tore open wounds I knew I deserved. Each word landed exactly where it was meant to.
I stood there and took it.
Because none of her pain was wrong.
When she told me to try chemotherapy, I snapped before I could stop myself.
“Because it’s too late!”
The silence that followed was crushing.
I forced a smile then. A weak one. “I don’t want to die looking ugly.”
I would rather die than have her see me looking like that.
She shoved me, furious, heartbroken.
“You still have the strength to joke?” she demanded.
“You’re talking to me,” I replied simply. Joking with the situation.
I had gotten what I wanted from the situation. Her attention.
I enjoyed it, teasing her... Until she finally listened to me.
Things started to go fine after I apologized again until I noticed the bowl on the table again.
She said it was soup. That I had ordered it for her.
That would have been a good idea, but I didn't...
“Ouch.” she cried out in pain.
“Aria?” My smile vanished instantly.
She doubled over, clutching her stomach, her face contorting in agony.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, panic surging fast and brutal. “Aria...look at me!”
She cried out, collapsing against me.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
“Aria!” I shook her gently. “Aria, talk to me!”
Her body went slack.
“No...no, no...” My hands trembled as I cupped her face, brushing her cheeks desperately. “Aria! Wake up!”
Nothing.
Fear unlike anything I had ever known tore through me... No, not unlike anything. I had experienced this once, when I thought I lost her from that mall incident.
“Marcus!” I yelled. I knew he wasn't too far from the door, I was right.
Marcus burst in less than two minutes. “What happened?”
“S...she fainted,” I snapped, my voice rough. “Something’s wrong.”
“Luca,” he said firmly, gripping my shoulder. “Breathe.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing myself to focus.
“Help me,” I said.
I bent down and lifted her into my arms. She felt frighteningly light. My hands trembled despite my effort to stay steady.
I didn’t know what was wrong with her.
As I carried her out, my heart thundered violently, a single thought repeating over and over...
Death... You’re not allowed to take her from me, not like the way you have taken hold of me.