CHAPTER 12
Ariana's POV
“So, Ariana, I’m pleased to say there’s been major improvement.”
I straightened in my chair, pulling my hands out of my lap. I’d been waiting half an hour for Matt to come back with my test results, and hearing him say that now—after all this time—should’ve made me feel better. It didn’t. I bit my lip, looking up at him, frowning.
It still wasn’t enough.
Why wasn’t it ever fucking enough?
Matt stood in front of me, grinning like I’d just won a medal. He was proud, I could tell, but when I didn’t mirror the smile, he crouched down and rested a hand on my knee, eyes soft.
“Nothing’s perfect, Ariana. Improvement takes time. So does practice,” he said gently.
I gave him a weak smile. He stood, grabbed the report, and started pacing with that usual energy of his.
“The results are outstanding. You’re making real changes. Keep this up and you’ll be out of here soon—no more clinic visits!”
Panic hit me fast. My chest tightened. I shook my head and stood, words tumbling out before I could stop them.
“Matt, I don’t want to stop seeing you,” I said, voice cracking. “I n-need y-you.”
He set the report down, reached for my arms.
“Hey, hey... it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. If you need more time, you’ll have it. I only meant that once you’re fully recovered, you won’t need me anymore. Do you understand?”
I looked up at him and nodded slowly.
“I do,” I murmured.
He brightened again. “You know what? This calls for a celebration. Dinner tonight. Bring your mom.”
My brows pulled together. “That’s not necessary, Matt.”
“I say it is.” He flashed that charming grin. “It’ll get your mind off things. I’m the therapist, so I get to make the rules. Please?”
I sighed, pouting a little. What harm could it do? A dinner couldn’t hurt. And maybe he was right—it might actually help.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“Great! I’ll pick you and your mother up at seven.”
It was already half-past seven. I sat in Matt’s car while he drove through the city lights toward the restaurant.
Mom hadn’t come—she wasn’t feeling well.
She told me to go without her, said it’d do me good.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about having dinner alone with my therapist, but she’d insisted.
Said maybe there should be something between Matt and me.
She always said that. I always ignored it.
Matt was my therapist.
That was it.
Right?
“It’s a shame Valentina couldn’t come,” he said, eyes on the road. “Would’ve been nice to have her.”
I turned my head and studied him. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, pastel pink shirt neat and fitted. His hair was slicked back, clean. He smelled... expensive. I’d never seen him like this—not without the white coat. Out of nowhere, Mom’s words started echoing in my head.
“She’s not well,” I said. Then, before I could stop myself: “Matt, have I told you that you look... good?”
“Good?” He shot me a quick side glance, half-grinning. “Just good?”
“Yeah. You look different... nice. Handsome.”
He laughed, easing to a stop at the light. Hands left the wheel, eyes found mine. “No, Ariana, you haven’t told me.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. I’d known Matt for years, but somehow tonight, he felt different. Or maybe I was different. Maybe I was finally seeing what Mom always teased me about.
“Well,” I said quietly, “you look really nice. You should dress like that more often.”
“I do.”
“Oh yeah? Funny, I only ever see you in that damn uniform.”
He smirked, eyes back on the road as the light turned green. “Then maybe you should see me more often. My doctor’s coat isn’t the only thing in my wardrobe.”
I turned toward the windshield, heart thudding a little too fast. “Maybe I should.”
“Maybe you should,” he echoed, voice low, almost teasing..
***
“MATT, CAN I ASK YOU something?”
“Sure, Ariana. Shoot.”
“Am I really worth it...?”
His brows pulled together. He set his wine glass down and stepped closer.
“Ariana,” his tone went firm, head tilting slightly, “what are you trying to say?”
“No— I mean... do you think Alessandro would be pleased if he saw me today?”
Matt exhaled, nodding slowly. “Yes. I’m sure he would. But even if he isn’t, remember this— you’re worth everything. You’re special. You’re you. You don’t need a man like Alessandro to make you feel that.”
I barely heard half of what he said. His blue eyes locked on me, and everything else blurred.
“That’s only if he isn’t pleased to see you!” he added, laughing softly.
We’d been at the restaurant for about an hour and a half.
Dinner was over. Now we sat on the rooftop terrace, high above New York, wine in hand, city lights stretching forever.
The air was crisp, quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.
I never realized how beautiful this city was— maybe because I’d been too broken to notice.
But tonight, sitting here with Matt, I actually felt. .. okay. Maybe even happy.
“Matt... that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
He smiled and took my hand. The silence between us wasn’t awkward; it was heavy with something I didn’t dare name.
A tension. A pull. I could feel it building, even with Alessandro’s ghost still living rent-free in my head.
Matt made me feel new, like maybe there was a version of me that didn’t belong to the past.
His thumb brushed along the side of my hand, slow and deliberate, and it made my chest feel tight.
The warmth of his skin sank into mine until I couldn’t tell if it was his pulse or mine that jumped first. When I finally looked up, he was already watching me — steady, quiet, like he was trying to read every thought running through my head.
I should’ve pulled away. I didn’t. Instead, I let him trace my fingers, let his hand linger just a little longer than it should have. It wasn’t just comfort anymore; it was a spark, one that crawled up my arm and settled somewhere deep in my stomach.
“Matt...” I whispered.
“Hm?” He looked at me, waiting.
“Do you ever wish I could just forget about Alessandro?”
Matt let go of my hand and reached up instead— his palms warm, cupping my face. He leaned in, eyes flicking between mine, and before I could think, his lips pressed against mine.
Soft. Slow. Careful.
I froze, then melted. My hands found his chest, and the moment spun out of control. The kiss deepened— unhurried, real— and something inside me cracked open. For the first time in years, I wasn’t weighed down by guilt or fear. I wasn’t haunted. I was alive.
A year ago, I would’ve shoved him away, shouted, cried about betraying Alessandro. But now? After everything? I needed this. I needed to feel something.
Three years searching for a ghost. Three years convincing myself he was dead. Maybe it was better this way— not knowing. Because what if I did find him? What if he didn’t want me anymore?
Our lips moved together until we finally pulled apart. I opened my eyes and met his— calm, blue, steady.
“No,” he said.
It took me a second to catch up. “No?”
He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his thumb along my jaw. “No, I don’t wish you could forget him. Alessandro was a big part of your life. It’d be impossible to erase him. He’s what kept you going. That’s why I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Do you regret it?” I asked softly.
He hesitated, then nodded.
“Do you want to regret it?”
His eyes flicked to mine again. “No.”
I smiled faintly. “It’s been years, Matt. How long am I supposed to wait for something that might never happen? I don’t even know where he is.”
He nodded slowly. “We could try finding him again. I’ll help you.”
That made me smile wider. I slipped my arm through his. “Let’s just go home, Matt. Please. Let’s go home.”
We headed downstairs to the lobby. Matt stopped at the counter to pay, and I excused myself to the restroom. Inside, I washed my hands, fixed my hair, tried not to stare too long at my own reflection. For once, I looked... calm. Almost normal.
Then—
A loud crack split the air outside. A sound that didn’t belong here.
Gunshot.
I froze, fingers tightening around the sink edge. Another sound—shouting, then screams. Panic burst through my chest. Every instinct told me to run, but my body locked up. I hated guns. I’d seen too many. Heard too many.
“Matt,” I whispered. The name felt like a prayer and a curse.
He was out there.
Another scream. More chaos.
Tears welled as I tried to breathe— inhale, exhale, just like he’d taught me. I could do this. I had to.
Inhale. Exhale.
My hand shook as I grabbed the door handle. I pushed it open and stepped into the hall. The silence that met me on the other side was worse than the noise. Too quiet. Too still.
Bodies on the floor. Blood. Shattered glass.
I stopped moving. Every nightmare I’d buried came crawling back— D’Angelo, Nicola, the gunfire, the chaos. He’s dead, I reminded myself. Nicola’s dead. But maybe his men weren’t. Maybe this was payback.
My heart pounded as I searched for Matt. He wasn’t there.
“Matt?” My voice barely came out.
No answer.
The room tilted. Tears stung. I needed to get out. I turned for the exit, running— too slow, too late.
A bang. Blinding pain slammed through my head. The world spun, colors bleeding together. I hit the ground hard, vision flickering until everything slipped away.
And right before the darkness swallowed me, one thought stuck in my mind—
Oh, how I wished my life was normal from the start....