The apartment felt softer at night, wrapped in the warm glow of lamplight and the distant, muffled hum of the city.
Luca tossed his blazer over the back of a chair and loosened his tie with a sigh, as if the day had physically drained him.
He changed into a faded T-shirt—one he'd long ago claimed from Noel's side of the closet—and sank into the chair at his desk.
The soft sound of running water echoed from down the hall—Noel in the shower.
A steady, familiar rhythm.
Luca opened his laptop, the bright slides of the presentation glaring back at him.
Georgia's voice echoed in his mind: No fluff.
He could still picture her sharp gaze, her heels clicking like a metronome counting down to judgment.
He leaned forward, jaw set, his usual playful demeanor replaced by uncharacteristic focus.
He adjusted colors, tweaked fonts, and rephrased taglines until the design finally felt like it breathed.
The bathroom door creaked open.
