Lyla Monroe (Nova Kingsley)
“Oh my God, Penny! How could you do that?” I exclaimed as I stood frozen at the doorway of Luca’s office. “That’s wrong—he doesn’t like it like that.”
Penny was mid-squatting behind Luca’s desk, clearly panicking. One hand was holding a sandwich wrapped in paper with the wrong deli label, and the other was digging aimlessly through drawers. The entire desk was a mess.
“And the report?” I continued. “It’s under his coffee. In the last drawer. That’s where he always keeps it.”
Penny looked up at me, flustered. “Wait… what drawer?”
I pointed. “Bottom right. Always.”
She blinked. “How do you know that?”
I smiled tightly. “Just… go set up the meeting room, Penny. I’ll handle this.”
Penny looked like she wanted to protest, but thankfully, she left.
Once the door clicked shut, I took a deep breath. Everything felt like muscle memory. I grabbed the sandwich and threw it away and headed out to get the sandwich from the spot I’ve been to for the past two years. When I got back, I was placing the drink beside the sandwich when the door opened. Luca stepped in, phone still in his hand, briefcase in the other.
He glanced at the table and frowned. “Did… did you bring me a sandwich?”
I looked up. “Yeah. Penny was struggling, so I figured I’d help.”
He walked over and eyed the sandwich. “You got the right one. She never did. I have been throwing them out the past couple of days.”
I smiled. “Well, yeah.”
He raised a brow. “How do you know my sandwich order?”
“I asked where she gets the sandwiches from. She gave me the name of the café. I went and told them it was for you. They already knew what you usually order.”
It was the lamest excuse ever, and I knew it. His eyes stayed on mine a moment too long. I grabbed my folder from the printer and mumbled something about having a meeting. He didn’t stop me.
That night, the silence in the apartment returned like a wave. Luca had gone to visit his mother after work, and I stayed behind. I was curled on the couch in my room, watching some random rom-com on mute.
Today was my mom’s death anniversary.
The ache hit harder than usual. I called my father earlier, and he told me he was doing okay on the island. Tired. A bit sicker. But okay. I promised to visit him when things here calmed down.
Guilt gnawed at me.
It was almost 1 a.m. when I finally gave in to the hunger grumbling in my stomach. I slid out of bed and padded down the hallway in bare feet.
Just as I passed Luca’s room, I froze. Voices. Low and strained. And then I heard it.
Crying.
My heart sped up. Was he on a call? I crept closer. No. It wasn’t a conversation. He was talking in his sleep.
“Dad… Dad, please…”
My breath caught in my throat.
I opened the door slowly. The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight sneaking through the curtains. Luca lay tangled in the sheets, sweating, his brows furrowed, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.
“No—don’t go. Don’t leave me—Dad, please…”
He was having a nightmare. Of his father.
The realization hit me like a punch to the chest.
I stepped in without thinking, heart aching. I sat beside him on the edge of the bed and reached out, stroking his damp hair.
“Luca,” I whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re here. It’s just a dream…”
His breathing hitched, his body jerked—
And his arm flew out.
His hand hit me hard across the face, and I tumbled off the bed, landing with a thud.
“Nova—what the fuck?!”
