240
Matteo’s POV
The restaurant was quieter than I expected for a Friday night, with low lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. It wasn’t my usual kind of spot, but I’d had a rough day and needed something different-a change of scenery to get out of my own head.
I’d spent the entire week trying not to think about Gianna, but everything reminded me of her. Every corner of the office, every passing comment from a coworker. Even sitting alone at a table for two felt like some cruel reminder that I wasn’t supposed to be here-alone.
The waiter brought over a menu, and I gave him a polite nod, though I wasn’t particularly hungry. I flipped through the options halfheartedly, debating whether I should just order a drink and call it a night. I was about to close the menu when something-or someone-caught my eye.
There she was. Gianna.
I froze, gripping the edge of the menu as if it could shield me from the sight of her. She was sitting just a few tables away, her dark hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. She looked beautiful, of course. She always did. But it wasn’t just the sight of her that stopped me cold-it was the man sitting across from her.
He was tall, with neatly styled hair and a confident demeanor. He leaned forward slightly as he spoke, smiling in a way that felt too familiar. Gianna laughed at something he said, and the sound carried over to me like a knife to the chest.
And all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. My stomach twisted painfully as I stared at them, unable to look away. She was smiling-really smiling-and it was like a punch to the gut. I’d spent weeks trying to fix things between us, replaying every mistake I’d made, every word I should’ve said differently. And here she was, looking like she’d moved on.
The waiter came back, interrupting my thoughts.
“Are you ready to order?” he asked, his voice cutting through the haze.
I shook my head quickly. “Uh, no. I think I’ll just… I’m not staying.”
He gave me a confused look but nodded. I reached for my wallet, fumbling for a few bills to tip him for the trouble, then stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the floor, and I winced, glancing quickly in Gianna’s direction. She didn’t look my way, too engrossed in her conversation with him.
Good. I didn’t want her to see me like this.
I made my way to the exit, my steps hurried and uneven that I’d almost fell over. The jazz music faded into the background as I pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air. The streetlights lightened up the sidewalk, and I shoved my hands into my pockets, walking aimlessly.
I didn’t know where I was going-I just needed to get away.
The image of her laughing with that guy played over and over in my head. Each time was more painful than the last. My mind raced with questions I didn’t want to ask. Was this their first date? Their second? Did she like him? Did he make her feel the way I used to? The way I still felt about her?
My chest tightened, and I stopped walking, leaning against a lamppost to catch my breath.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Gianna was amazing, and any guy would be lucky to be sitting across from her at dinner. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it made it worse. Because I’d had her. I’d been the one sitting across from her, making her laugh, seeing that sparkle in her eyes. And I’d lost it.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to pull myself together. This was my fault. I’d unknowingly pushed her away, hurt her, given her every reason to doubt us. She deserved to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me.
But damn, it hurt.
I started walking again, slower this time, letting the cool air calm me. I needed to clear my head, but no matter how far I walked, I couldn’t shake the image of her with him. I thought about going back, about storming into the restaurant and demanding to know who he was, what he thought he was doing with her.
But what right did I have? She wasn’t mine anymore. She has made that part very clear.
I found myself on a quieter street, the noise of the city fading into the background. A small bench sat under a streetlamp, and I sank onto it, resting my elbows on my knees. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn’t bother checking it. Probably work emails or maybe even Emilia. I couldn’t deal with any of it right now.
I buried my face in my hands, taking deep, shaky breaths. The night felt heavier than it should’ve, like everything I’d been trying to avoid was pressing down on me all at once.
What was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to move on when every part of me still wanted her? I’d tried giving her space, tried respecting her decision to push me away, but seeing her with someone else-it was too much.
I stayed on the bench for a while, staring at the pavement, trying to make sense of my thoughts. Eventually, I pulled out my phone and opened my messages. I scrolled through my conversations until I found hers, the thread of texts we’d exchanged before everything fell apart.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, itching to type something, anything. But what could I say? “I saw you tonight” sounded pathetic. “I miss you” sounded desperate.
I sighed and locked my phone, shoving it back into my pocket.
She was moving on. That much was clear. And maybe I needed to accept that, as much as it killed me. Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling me it was time to let go.