Giovanni POV

Mia’s door swung open before I could even knock, and the smell of cinnamon and cheap vanilla candles hit me like a warm hug. Her apartment looked the same as ever—books stacked like towers, fairy lights still strung up even though half had burned out, and a pile of glossy magazines with celebrities staring up from the covers.

“Anni!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me. I laughed into her shoulder, squeezed back. For the first time in days, it felt like I could ...