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Matteo’s POV
I didn’t sleep much last night. All I did was lay awake on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and going over what I would say to her, how I would apologize, how I would beg her to hear me out. Gianna deserved better than the silence that had grown between us, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
Even though I knew my sleepless night would affect my efficiency at work today, I didn’t mind that if it would let me get my woman back.
I stared at myself thought the mirrored walls of the elevator, and I must say, I looked better than I had since all that shit went down. That was what hope did to me.
I stopped out of the elevator and walked straight to her office. Her back was to the door, and I suspected she was on a call or just going through some documents. Or just staring at the view.
I had rehearsed my speech a dozen times in my head. But standing outside her office door right now, my stomach twisted in knots. I felt different now. Like I wasn’t prepared. But I was here now. I had to go through with it. I raised my hand to knock, hesitating. What if she didn’t want to see me? What if she slammed the door in my face?
But I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep pretending that the space between us didn’t tear me apart every single day. So I knocked, a light tap that barely sounded confident.
“Come in,” her voice called, clipped and professional.
I opened the door slowly and she turned her chair around so she was finally facing me. Papers were scattered in front of her, and she had shades on her hair, which looked weird on her because Gianna never used them. She didn’t look up right away, too focused on whatever she was reading. For a moment, I just stood there, taking her in. God, I missed her.
When her eyes finally flicked up and met mine, her entire demeanor changed. Her shoulders stiffened, her lips pressed into a thin line. She sat up straight and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.
“What are you doing here, Matteo?” Her tone was icy and distant. There was nothing like the warm, teasing Gianna I knew.
“I…” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. “I needed to talk to you.”
She sighed, already looking impatient. “About what? Work? Because if it’s personal, I’m not interested.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I forced myself to step further into the room, closing the door behind me. “Please, Gianna. Just hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”
She shook her head, looking down at the papers on her desk as if she hadn’t heard me. “Matteo, I’m busy. I don’t have time for this.”
I took another step closer, desperate. “You don’t have time for me? For us? Gianna, I can’t-”
“Stop,” she snapped, her eyes flashing as she finally looked up at me. “There is no ‘us,’ Matteo. Not anymore. And you need to accept that.”
The finality in her voice made my chest ache. I reached out instinctively, like I could close the distance between us just like that. “Gianna, I can’t accept that. I won’t. I love you. I’m sorry for everything-what happened, how it made you feel-”
“Sorry isn’t enough,” she interrupted, standing up now. Her hands were flat on the desk, her posture rigid. “You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything with an apology? It doesn’t work that way, Matteo. Not this time.”
I took a shaky breath, my voice cracking. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this, and I’ll do it. Anything, Gianna. Just don’t shut me out.”
Her laugh was bitter, almost cruel. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about you fixing anything. It’s about me realizing that I deserve better than this.”
“Better than what?” I asked, my voice rising despite myself. “Better than someone who loves you? Who would do anything for you?”
“Better than someone whose family doesn’t even respect me,” she shot back, her words cutting deep. “Better than feeling like I’ll always be second to the chaos in your life, Matteo.”
I froze, her words falling over me like a heavy blanket. She wasn’t wrong. Emilia’s disapproval, the tension, the way everything had spiraled out of control-it all made sense now.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I never meant for any of that to happen. I never wanted you to feel like this.”
“But I do,” she said, her tone softening for just a moment. “And that’s why this can’t work.”
I stepped closer, my voice trembling. “Don’t say that. Please, Gianna. Don’t give up on us. I can’t-”
“Stop,” she said again, her voice firm as she raised a hand to cut me off. “Just stop, Matteo. Get out.”
Her words felt like a dagger to my chest. I stood there, frozen, my hands trembling at my sides. “Gianna, please…”
“Get. Out,” she repeated, her voice cold and flat.
For a moment, I thought about staying, about fighting harder, about refusing to leave until she heard me out. But the look in her eyes, the mix of anger and hurt, made it clear that I wasn’t welcome here.
I nodded slowly, my throat tight. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ll go.”
I turned and walked out of her office, closing the door quietly behind me. I clenched and unclenched my fists, my legs taking me away from everyone here. My chest felt tight and my breathing was shallow. I stumbled into an empty stairwell, gripping the railing as tears blurred my vision.
I sat down on the cold concrete steps, burying my face in my hands. The pain an was overwhelming, suffocating ache that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I don’t deserve her. Maybe I’m the problem.