Chapter 261
KATYA POV
—Next day—
Light filtered through the curtains in thin, golden lines, warming my face before my mind fully caught up. I woke slowly, my eyes fluttering open, lashes heavy with sleep.
For a mont, I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe deeply. I stayed very still, as if the wrong movent might summon sothing unwelco, listening with a careful attention I’d learned long ago.
No knock.
No sharp footsteps outside the door.
No tension waiting to snap.
Only birds. Distant and soft. And the faint hush of a house that was already awake but not demanding anything from .
That alone felt strange—almost unreal. My eyes opened properly, adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling. Dark. Clean. Too elegant to be accidental.
It took a few seconds for mory to settle back into place—the room, the dinner, Nonna’s steady voice, Chiara’s grin that had refused to let disappear into myself.
Italy.
I was here. And nothing bad had happened yet.
The thought made my chest tighten—not with fear exactly, but with caution. As if peace was sothing fragile, sothing that might shatter if I acknowledged it too loudly. I didn’t trust it yet. I didn’t trust how gentle the morning felt.
I turned my head slightly, the pillow cool beneath my cheek. The bed was wide—too wide for one person—the sheets tucked neatly around , unwrinkled, untouched by restlessness. That’s when it hit .
I had slept through the night.
No waking in the dark. No half-dreams clawing back to consciousness. No counting the hours until morning like survival depended on it.
Just sleep.
My fingers curled slowly into the fabric near my waist, gripping it lightly, testing the mont like it might disappear if I loosened my hold. It didn’t. The room didn’t vanish. The quiet didn’t turn sharp.
Sunlight spilled across the floor near the window, dust motes drifting lazily through it. I watched them for a long ti, srized by how unhurried they were, how nothing seed to be chasing them away.
Is this what mornings are supposed to feel like?
Quiet.
Gentle.
Unafraid.
I pushed myself up carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. My feet touched the cool floor, grounding . I half-expected the room to feel heavy again—watchful, tense, like it had the night before.
It didn’t.
It felt... neutral. Accepting. Like it was finally allowing to exist in it without resistance. I glanced around, taking things in more slowly this ti—the desk, the curtains, the closed door.
Everything was the sa, yet sothing had shifted.
Maybe it was .
A soft knock sounded.
I froze instinctively, my spine stiffening before my mind could catch up. Then the knock ca again, lighter this ti.
"Katya?" Chiara’s voice, muffled through the door. "You awake, or should I dramatically throw myself against the door to check?"
My shoulders loosened before I could stop them from doing so, the tension slipping out of in a way that surprised . "I’m awake," I said, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Good," she replied brightly. "Because if you weren’t, I’d still co in. Fair warning."
The door opened and Chiara slipped inside with her usual energy—hair slightly ssy, confidence effortless, like she belonged everywhere she stood.
She was dressed in a deep blue tank top that clung comfortably to her fra, leaving her toned stomach bare, her skin warm and sun-kissed even this early.
A pair of ssy-looking jean shorts sat low on her hips, stopping just below her butt, casual and unapologetic.
I stared.
The sight hit harder than I expected. Not because it was inappropriate—Chiara carried it like it was the most natural thing in the world—but because of how comfortable she looked.
How unbothered. How free.
I glanced down at myself without aning to. Oversized sleep shirt. Bare legs. No effort. No intention.
Would I ever be able to wear sothing like that? The thought slipped in quietly, unwelco and sharp. Would I ever feel that confident in my own skin? That unafraid of being seen?
She stopped short when she noticed staring. "Hey," she said, softer now, her tone shifting imdiately.
"Hi," I replied.
She smiled, then lifted a small bag she’d been hiding behind her back, shaking it once like it was a secret.
"What’s that?" I asked, curiosity nudging past my lingering fog.
She only giggled brightly, eyes dancing.
"Up."
I blinked. "Up?"
"Yes. Up," she repeated, already moving toward . "As in—out of bed, Katya. Now."
I frowned slightly, pushing myself to my feet anyway. "Why? Are we going sowhere?" A small knot of worry tightened in my chest, familiar and unwelco. "Did I miss sothing? Is sothing happening?"
Chiara laughed, light and airy. "Relax. Nothing bad. Nothing scary. Just—" she waved her hand vaguely, dropping the bag onto the bed, "—a day. A proper one."
She grabbed my hand and tugged fully upright, then circled once, inspecting like she was checking if I was physically fit for whatever she had planned.
"I’m confused," I admitted honestly, my voice quiet. "Do I need to be ready for sothing?"
"Yes," she said imdiately. Then she grinned. "But I’m not telling you what."
Before I could protest, she took my shoulders and gently—but firmly—steered toward the bathroom door. "Go. Take a bath. A long one. Hot water. No rushing."
I stumbled a step, startled. "Chiara—"
"Go, go," she insisted, opening the bathroom door and ushering inside. "The maids already ca in earlier. Everything’s set. Towels, soaps. You don’t even have to think."
I paused just inside the doorway, the breath catching in my throat all over again. The bathroom was beautiful—marble floors cool beneath my feet, a deep tub waiting, sunlight spilling in through a frosted window like it belonged there.
Everything looked untouched. Prepared. Waiting.
"They... arranged my things?" I asked quietly, the words barely louder than a thought.
"Mm-hmm," Chiara said, leaning against the doorfra. "Nonna’s orders. Don’t panic. They didn’t snoop. They just... helped."
I nodded slowly, fingers curling into the sleeve of my sleep shirt. Help still felt like a strange concept when it ca without conditions. Without debt.
Chiara noticed. "Hey," she said gently. "This isn’t a test. No one’s watching you. Just take the bath."
I hesitated. "And after?"
She smiled again, mischievous now. "After, you’ll eat breakfast. And then...." she pointed at , eyes sparkling, "...we’ll see."
She stepped back, already turning away. "I’ll be outside. Don’t take forever, but also...take forever. You know?"
"I... don’t," I admitted.
She laughed. "You will."
The door closed softly behind her, leaving alone in the quiet, sunlit space.
I stood there for a mont, heart steady, listening to the faint sounds of the house beyond the walls—life moving on without urgency, without threat.
Then I reached for the tub, turning the water on. Steam began to rise, warm and forgiving, wrapping around like an invitation rather than a command.
For once, I didn’t feel like I was being rushed toward sothing I wasn’t ready for.
I felt like I was being invited.
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