The morning air in Rome is cooler than usual, brushing against my skin as I step out of the tram and into the buzz of students. I tug my hoodie tighter, the fabric a small shield.
School feels louder today, or maybe it's just me. I spot Luca slouched against the wall near the entrance, hood up, arms crossed. Something's different. He doesn't say anything, not even a smug comment as I pass. He looks…dull. Like someone sucked the brightness out of him.
His jaw is clenched, eyes darker than usual. Not angry. Just…heavy. There's a shadow under his left eye. I blink.
Bruise?
Before I can think too much about it, Sofia waves me over from the front steps. "Chiara! You coming to practice today?" I nod and follow her, but I glance back once. Luca hasn't moved.
Practice is loud, messy, perfect. The girls yell across the field, our cleats thudding on dirt and grass. I can breathe here. Really breathe.
Coach splits us up for drills. My legs burn, muscles pulling tight, but I don't stop. Can't stop.
Sofia jogs beside me, panting. "You good? You're pushing hard today." I shrug, panting too. "Just need the burn." She nods. Doesn't ask more. That's why I like her.
We finish late. The sun's sinking, casting long shadows over the field. I stay behind to tie my laces tighter, letting the others walk ahead.
When I finally head out, the quiet hum of the city returns. Something feels off in the air. Like a change I can't name. And I wonder—just briefly—
whathappened to make Luca look like that.