The morning light had a tender, forgiving glow—soft gold spilling across the marble floor as they stepped outside.
The air was cool, the kind that hummed with city calm before the day turned loud, before the chaos of traffic and obligations took over.
Felix adjusted his satchel strap, his hair still slightly damp from the shower, catching the morning light.
Matteo, in his navy suit, walked beside him, jacket draped over one arm, looking every bit the composed businessman.
The car waited by the driveway, polished and quiet, a silent observer to their unspoken peace.
The door opened, and Felix slid in first, settling into the passenger seat.
Matteo circled to the driver's side with purposeful strides.
He'd insisted on driving himself this morning, ignoring the driver's polite protest earlier with a firm but kind dismissal.
Some days, he just needed control—the road, the wheel, the silence, the ability to think without interruption.
