The night had been perfect, too perfect, perhaps. The city skyline glittered beyond the ballroom windows, a reflection of everything they had survived. Their real wedding, their second chance, had finally brought a fragile kind of peace. Aria had danced until her feet ached, laughing against Luca's chest as the music swirled around them. His hand never left her waist, his eyes never strayed from her face. It felt like a dream neither wanted to end.
But life in their world had a cruel habit of snatching happiness just when it felt safe to believe in it.
Hours later, the car hummed softly along the coastal road. The night air carried a salty chill through the half-open window. Aria rested her head on Luca's shoulder, still in her gown, shoes abandoned somewhere in the back seat. He was humming under his breath, a rare thing, fingers tracing idle patterns on her hand.
"I still can't believe it's real," she murmured. "That we made it here."
