Three days.
It had been three days since she lay in that hotel bed, naked in body and soul, watching him walk out the door.
"I don't even know your name?" he'd asked, voice quiet, eyes unreadable.
And she told him.
Her name. The one she'd saved for him. The one she thought might trigger something,anything inside him.
But he just nodded, said nothing more, and left.
She hadn't cried. Not really. Just the kind of tears that dried before they ever hit the pillow, the kind that stayed trapped inside her chest like smoke choking her from within.
She wanted to believe he was too dazed, too drugged, too shocked to register it.
But deep down, she feared the truth was simpler.
He just didn't care.
Now back in Florence, wrapped in the warmth of her childhood room, she still felt cold. Not because of the weather, but because a part of her had been stripped bare and not just her body.
She had loved him in silence for two decades.
And when she finally had him,just for a night he forgot her by morning.
Her phone buzzed with messages she ignored. Birthday wishes, check-ins from friends. She didn't answer. What was she supposed to say?
"Thanks, I'm fine. I gave my virginity to the man I've loved since I was seven. He forgot."
No. She just stared at her screen. His face was everywhere sports channels, social media, club fan pages. Charismatic, lethal on the field, heartbreakingly perfect off it.
She hated how even now, seeing him made her stomach twist.
She hated how she kept replaying the way he held her after. How he kissed her shoulder, so softly, like she meant something.
She hated how she'd let herself hope.
He hadn't slept since that night.
Not well, anyway.
He remembered her body,every inch. The way her fingers shook as she unbuttoned his shirt. The heat of her lips. The wild, uncontained need in both of them.
But more than that… he remembered the way she looked at him. Like she knew him. Like she saw something no one else ever had.
And he remembered her name.
Eliana.
It haunted him. Because it meant something.
But he couldn't place it.
The name floated around the edges of his memory like a dream he couldn't hold onto. His mind tried to rationalize it. Maybe she was just another woman, someone he'd met before in passing. Maybe it was all in his head.
But that didn't explain why he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Why he felt like he missed her, even though he didn't know her.
His chest tightened every time he closed his eyes.
There was more to her than that night.
He felt it in his bones.
And what scared him most?
He didn't just want to remember her.
He needed to.
Her mother's voice drifted up the stairs.
"Eliana, dinner's ready!"
She ignored it.
Her body was home, but her heart was still trapped in that dark hotel room, wrapped in sheets and silence.
She thought giving herself to him would close a chapter in her heart.
Instead, it had written a thousand new pages of ache.
She told herself it didn't matter.
He was a football god. She was no one. He had a child. A reputation. A life built on lights and glory.
She was just a girl with a broken promise and a heart full of shadows.
But still...
She wished he had looked back before leaving.
Wished he had remembered.
Wished she hadn't whispered, "You're safe," with so much truth.
Because he hadn't been the only one needing protection that night.
He stood in the shower, water scalding hot, his hands braced against the tiles.
Her voice echoed in his mind.
"You're safe. Just stay with me. I won't let them find you."
How did she know to say that?
Why did it feel so familiar?
There was something there, buried deep.
A memory. A moment. A promise.
Suddenly, it hit him.
A park.
A girl.
Toronto. Years ago.
"I'll protect you."
He staggered back, heart thudding.
Could it be?
Had he met her before?
He didn't know. But something inside him whispered yes.
He needed to find her.
Not because of guilt.
Not even because of the sex.
But because his soul was pulling toward hers,and he didn't know why.
Yet.