6 - Harper
T he night air bites at my skin, sharp and unforgiving, but I don’t stop. I can’t. My feet hit the pavement hard, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. The world around me is a blur, streetlights streaking past, the distant hum of traffic, the rhythmic pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to go.
Alessia’s words are still ringing in my head, looping like some sick joke.
“I’m a mafia princess.” …
“I’m going to take over my father’s empire.” …
“I wanted to protect you.” …
A harsh laugh forces its way out of my throat. Protect me? She lied to me. She made me believe she was something — someone else — and now she thinks she can just tell me the truth and I’ll what? Fall into her arms?
I swipe angrily at my face, refusing to let the stinging in my eyes turn into tears. I won’t cry. I won’t, I barely know her, for crying out loud.
The city feels different now. The familiar streets, the ones I’ve walked a thousand times before, suddenly seem darker, harsher. Like I can’t trust what’s lurking around the next corner.
How could I have been so stupid?
How could I have let myself start to believe in her?
I slow to a stop. My breath is shaky, my fingers trembling at my sides. The weight of it all presses down on me, making my chest ache in a way I don’t know how to fix.
Because the worst part isn’t that Alessia lied. It’s that some part of me, some stupid, reckless part of me, still wants to turn back.
I force myself to take a deep breath, then another, but it does nothing to stop the chaos in my head. My hands are still shaking as I step toward the curb. My movements jerky and unsteady, like my body hasn’t caught up to what my mind already knows. This is over. It has to be.
A yellow cab rounds the corner, its headlights cutting through the darkness, and I throw up a hand without thinking. The tires screech softly as they slow to a stop in front of me.
I yank open the door and slide inside, the warmth of the car a stark contrast to the cold still clinging to my skin. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror, waiting for an address.
I swallow hard before muttering my address.
The word s feel strange in my mouth, too normal for what’s just happened. Too normal for the way my world has been tilted on its axis.
The driver nods and pulls back into traffic, and I finally let myself sink into the seat. The city blurs past the window, neon signs and headlights smearing together, but I don’t see any of it.
All I see is her .
The way she looked at me when she said my name. The way she reached for me like she thought, like she hoped, I’d let her.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fingers to my temples. I can’t think about this. I can’t think about her.
By the time the cab slows in front of my building, my exhaustion has settled into something deeper. Something heavy in my chest, pressing down on me like I might collapse under the weight of it.
I pay the driver and step out onto the sidewalk, barely noticing the chill anymore. My hands feel numb as I fumble for my keys, my body moving on autopilot until I’m inside, the door shut behind me.
The silence of my apartment wraps around me, thick and suffocating.
For a second, I just stand there, staring at the floor like it might have the answers I need. But I know it doesn’t.
There’s only one person who might.
With a shaky breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll until I find her name, Riley. The only person who has ever understood me without me having to explain.
I hesita te for half a second before hitting the call button. It rings twice before her voice comes through, groggy and confused.
“Harper? It’s… what? Almost midnight? What’s wrong?”
I sink onto the couch, pressing my forehead into my palm.
“I just…” My voice is still shaking, and I hate it. I clear my throat and try again. “I just needed to talk to you.”
She’s quiet for a second, but I hear the rustle of sheets, like she’s sitting up.
“What happened?” she asks, softer now.
I exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling. “I met someone.”
Silence.
“…And?”
“And she’s not who I thought she was.” The words come out almost a whisper.
Riley makes a noise that’s half sigh, half hum. “Okay. Want to give me some details, or are we keeping it vague?”
“Vague.”
“Got it.” She pauses. “Do you like her?”
I close my eyes, because that’s the worst part, isn’t it? The part I don’t want to say out loud.
“I don’t want to,” I admit. “But yeah.”
Riley exhales, and I can hear the knowing smile in her voice when she says, “Then it’s not that simple, is it?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “It has to be.”
Because if it isn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Riley do esn’t say anything for a moment, but I can hear her thinking. It’s something she’s always done, letting silence stretch just long enough to make sure she says the right thing. Normally, I appreciate it. Right now, it just makes my chest ache.
“You know,” she finally says, her voice careful, “liking someone doesn’t mean you have to accept everything about them. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you have to stay if it’s not safe.”
Safe.
The word sticks in my throat.
Nothing about this feels safe. Not Alessia’s world. Not my feelings for her. Not the way my heart still jumps when I think about her saying she wants me.
I shift on the couch, rubbing my hand over my face.
“I know that, Ri.”
“Do you?” she asks, and there’s no judgment in her voice, just concern. “Because you don’t sound sure.”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes against my ear. A second later, the screen lights up with a name that makes my stomach drop.
Alessia.
I stare at it, pulse spiking. She’s calling me. Right now.
As if she somehow knows that I’m sitting here, unraveling, trying to put my thoughts into something that makes sense.
I swallow hard, my thumb hovering over the screen.
I should answer. Tell her this is over. That I don’t want any part of this.
But I don’t move.
I just let it ring.
“You still there?” Riley asks.
I blink, shaking myself back to the moment.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m here.”
I don’t tell her about the call. I don’t tell her that for a split second, I almost picked up.
Because I don’t want to admit, to Riley or to myself, that some part of me wants to hear Alessia’s voice again. That some part of me is afraid of what happens if I let her go.
The call ends and the screen goes dark.
By the time I finally crawl into bed, exhaustion has settled deep in my bones. But sleep doesn’t come easily.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind replaying every second of tonight. The way Alessia looked at me, the way her voice cracked when she said my name. The weight of her confession pressing against my ribs like a stone I can’t shake off.
I roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut.
She lied to you, I remind myself. She built a whole life around something dangerous, something you can’t be a part of. But no matter how many times I repeat it, it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. My body shuts down before my mind can, and I slip into a restless sleep .
The soft glow of morning filters through my curtains, warm against my face. I groan, shifting onto my back, my limbs heavy. My mouth is dry, my head cloudy. Like I barely slept at all. And then my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I fumble for it, my eyes still half-closed, but the second I see the screen, I’m awake.
Seven missed calls. Five texts.
All from Alessia.
My stomach tightens as I swipe to read the messages.
Alessia: Harper please.
I know you're angry, but I need to talk to you.
Just let me explain
I don't want to lose you before I even have the chance to show you who I really am.
Please.
I stare at the screen, my chest tight.
She didn’t just try to reach me. She tried over and over again. And part of me, the stupid, reckless part, wonders if I should let her.
I throw the covers off and sit up, running a hand through my hair. I should block her. Delete the messages. Make it easier to walk away.
But I do n’t.
Instead, I set the phone down and press my hands against my face, taking a deep, shaky breath. Because no matter how much I try to fight it…
I’m still not sure if I want to walk away at all.
I take the longest shower of my life, standing under the scalding water, hoping it’ll wash away the mess of emotions clinging to me. It doesn’t. By the time I step out, my thoughts are still tangled, Alessia’s messages still weighing heavy in my chest.
I don’t answer her. I don’t even let myself think about answering her. Instead, I get dressed, grab my bag, and head to work.
The second I step into the pediatric wing of the hospital, the familiar beeping of monitors and the soft hum of conversation wrap around me like armor. This is where I belong. This is what makes sense. Not secret crime families. Not mafia queens. Not Alessia Di-fucking-Santi.
“Harper, you’re back!”
I barely have time to turn before Mia, one of the nurses, pulls me into a quick hug.
“We missed you yesterday,” she says, handing me a chart.
“Dr. Patel said you had the day off?”
I force a tight smile. “Something like that.”
She gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push.
“Well, it’s chaos as usual. The twins in Room 204 are wired from the sugar their grandmother snuck in, and Logan in 302 is co nvinced he’s a superhero now, so good luck with that.”
I exhale, my lips twitching despite myself. “Great. Sounds like a normal day, then.”
Mia grins. “Exactly.”
Normal, that’s what I need right now.
I throw myself into work, checking charts, adjusting medications, making rounds.
I spend extra time with the younger kids, letting them show me their drawings, listening to them ramble about their favorite superheroes.
When Logan in room 302 insists on showing me his ‘super strength,’ I let him squeeze my hand with all the force his tiny fingers can muster.
It’s easy to lose myself in this. To focus on the kids, the work, the life I’ve built outside of the chaos Alessia might bring.
The hours slip by faster than I expect. The chaos of the day, of the kids and the constant motion, keeps my mind occupied, and by the time the end of my shift rolls around, I’m almost relieved.
The soft chime of my phone buzzes in my pocket as I finish updating a patient’s chart, but I ignore it, too tired to check. As I hand off my notes to the oncoming shift, I grab my things and head for the locker room, ready to leave the hospital and lose myself in the quiet of my apartment.
But when I push through the double doors into the lobby, I freeze.
Alessia is standing by the front desk. She’s not hunched or hesitant.
She’s assertive. Her posture is tall, unyielding, her jaw set.
Her eyes scan the room with an intensity that makes it impossible to miss her.
The moment our gazes meet, she doesn’t look away.
If anything, her gaze sharpens, cutting through the air between us like she’s staking her claim.
There’s nothing frantic about her, only determination. The wildness in her expression is deliberate, not born from panic but from a quiet resolve that grips my chest.
And then she takes a step toward me.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” she says, her voice low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge to it, urgency underlined by something deeper, something almost dangerous.
“I don’t care how many times you’ve ignored me. I’m not leaving until we talk.”
My heart skips a beat, my pulse spiking. Alessia doesn’t wait for permission. She’s already close. Her presence fills the space between us with a weight I can’t escape. Her gaze is unwavering, and in that moment, I feel every bit of the power she carries.
She doesn’t even give me a chance to respond.
“You can try to run from this, Harper,” she continues, her voice gaining strength, “but I’m not letting you go. Not without a fight.”
I open m y mouth to say something, anything, but the words are stuck, tangled somewhere deep inside me. I should tell her to leave, to stop making this harder.
But as her eyes hold mine, I can’t find the strength to walk away. She takes another step, forcing me to stand my ground.
“I’m not walking away from you. Not like this.”