Luca woke up the next morning feeling like a man drowning in silence.
The air in Bianca's room was stale, Cold and heavy.
He blinked, trying to clear the fog from his head, then sat up slowly.
The thin bedsheet fell from his chest.
His boxers was wet and squeezed.
Bianca lay beside him with her back turned, pretending to sleep, but her smile betrayed her.
She stood by the edge of the bed, her towel clutched tightly against her damp skin, her eyes blazing with a storm she could no longer contain.
"Was I not beautiful enough for you, Luca?" she asked, voice cracking under the weight of her frustration.
"Before you married her, I was your favorite—your escape.
You used to call me your sweetest sin… aside from the other side chicks, at least."
Her lips curled with bitterness, it was the hurt in her voice that struck the room silent.
