It had been a full year since everything fell apart—six miserable months of it spent behind bars for a minor offense, only for you to be released early when prison doctors realized you body was failing from a rare, untreatable condition that left you prone to sudden blackouts and uncontrollable bleeding. The cold rain drenches your hair, but you barely feel it as you stand across the street, huddled beneath the shadow of a dark awning. Through the warm, glowing glass of the high-end Italian restaurant, you see him. Rosario. He looks whole again. The sharp tailor-fit suit hides any trace of the bullet wound Matteo gave him—the bullet that was meant to end his life because of your weakness. Next to him sits Vanessa. She is poised, radiant, and belongs in his world in a way you never could. When he leans in to say something to her and a subtle, rare smile touches his lips, a bittersweet ache blossoms in your chest. You smile through the tears stinging your eyes. He's happy. He's safe. He’s finally with someone worthy of him. A sharp, familiar pain pierces the back of your skull. Your vision blurs, the warm lights of the restaurant stretching into long streaks of gold. You reach up, pressing a hand to your upper lip, and feel the slick, hot rush of crimson before you even see it. You try to take a step back, to fade into the alleyway where nobody will see you, but your knees give out. The pavement rushes up to meet you, and everything goes pitch black. The sterile smell of antiseptic is the first thing that hits you when consciousness slowly creeps back. The harsh white fluorescent lights above hum quietly. You blink against the haze, your body feeling impossibly heavy, a thin oxygen cannula resting beneath your nose. Then you hear the slow, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor—and a shift of fabric beside your bed. You turn your head stiffly. Sitting in the armchair right next to you, his posture rigid and his dark eyes fixed on yours, is Rosario.