CHIARABy the time we left the amusement park, the sun was slipping low on the horizon, painting the sky in bands of honey and rose. My heart was still racing from laughter and adrenaline, but it was the kind of exhaustion that felt earned, the kind that comes after joy, not fear.Massimo opened the car door for me, that quiet habit of his never fading. I slid in, still holding onto the faint sweetness of cotton candy on my tongue. He started the engine, the low hum of it vibrating through me. Music played softly, some Italian song I didn’t recognize but somehow fit the moment perfectly...gentle, nostalgic, like a memory trying to form.As we drove, the cool evening breeze drifted through the half-open windows. Then, without warning, he pressed a button and the sunroof began to slide open.“Go on,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You look like you need it.”I blinked at him, confused for half a second before realizing what he meant. And then, laughing, I pushed myself up throug
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