Since the day I woke up from the coma, Giovanni was the only one who came to visit me. At first, it felt comforting, knowing someone was there, that someone cared. But with time, I noticed the absence of others—the cold, empty hospital room, the silence that stretched for days. I didn’t know my family, didn’t remember them, so it wasn’t a surprise they weren’t around. But it stung a little to realize how alone I truly was.
Giovanni, though, he was always there. Or at least, he used to be. Now, things were different.
His friends—our friends, as he liked to call them—never warmed to me. They made it clear I was an outsider. Every time I was around them, the tension thickened, their eyes flicking between me and Giovanni like I didn’t belong. I could feel the judgment, the whispers behind my back. Anya was their choice for him, not me. Anya, with her perfect life and flawless reputation.
I knew they were rooting for her. It didn’t matter what I felt, what Giovanni had promised me. In their eyes, I wasn’t enough. I had no name, no family, no status. I wasn’t the girl they wanted for him. I tried to ignore it, to brush off their comments, but tonight, it was too much.