In the eyes.
Heaven.
That’s the only way I could describe it.
Italy felt like something written in poetry—like every thread of the city had been stitched together with love.
It was beautiful.
I wandered through the streets in quiet awe. The air was warm, the light gentle, and everything felt still in a way I wasn’t used to. People passed with easy smiles, voices soft in the open air, like the world here didn’t know how to be harsh.
It felt almost romantic.
I know everyone always talks about Venice—but I didn’t expect it to look like this at twilight. The sky dimmed slowly, spilling gold into the water until the entire city seemed to glow from underneath.
So unlike America. The place I grew up.
There, I always felt like I had to shrink myself. Here, I didn’t. Here, I could just exist—walk wherever I wanted, without feeling watched.
I turned onto a bridge and paused, leaning over the edge. Below, the water carried the reflection of glowing lights scattered across the gulf, trembling with every ripple.
For a moment, it reminded me of her.
Mom.
My fingers tightened around her necklace, instinctively.
She would be so proud of me.
The thought didn’t come gently—it pressed against my chest like something I’d been avoiding. A couple passed behind me, laughing softly, and for a second it sounded like something she would’ve loved to hear.
She would’ve loved this. She would’ve loved seeing me here—finally free. Finally away from him.
I glanced down again at the water, my grip tightening around the necklace.
She would’ve loved all of it.
I just wish she had gotten to see it.
I turned to walk again. slipping on my headphones, one ear still uncovered out of habit.
I was listening to the Birthday cake by Dylan Conrique
another thing that reminded me of her.
I kept walking closing my eyes, singing softly.
"it's hard to know
what she would say
but I think she'd
want you to live like the worlds on fire
want you to live like hearts don't break
never look down when you walk the wire
like she'd made it to forty-eight
still made your birthday cake."
Tears came running down my cheeks. as I stopped singing...interrupted by a gentle tug on my jeans.
I looked down. to see it was just a kid. I slid off my headphones, they landed on my collarbones, with a clack.
I squatted down to her level. and I tilted my head askingly.
"are you okay Ms?" her accent was Italian.
"I'm okay, thank you for asking, where are your parents?" I followed her finger as she pointed to a group of people huddled on a porch, by candle light.
I smiled, holding back tears as she offered me a rose from behind her back, holding it high above her head towards me. I took it as another tear rolled down, but it wasn't sad this time.
"awe, that's so sweet, thank you so much." I opened my arms for a hug. she came closer, into my arms. she smelled like a rose, and her hair was curly almost afro like.
she had no idea how much this meant to me. as she was in my arms, I felt my necklace come unclasped.
I let go of her and stood up.
looking down at her, as I grasped at my neck.
it was gone.
no.
but she didn't have it, her hands were empty. I held the rose tighter.
as I turned around, I felt the Thorns digging into my skin.
I was met with a dark gaze, and a rich smell.
from a young man who was covering his face with a clothe wrap. The fabric obscured most of his face—dark, unfamiliar, out of place here. in a city full of love.
but he had my necklace.
I stared up at his eyes.
angrily.
"what cat got your tongue?" he asked tauntingly.
"Stop you can't." I choked, realizing what was happening.
"and why not." he tilted his head, holding it out of reach.
I saw his face turn to almost regret.
but a pick-pocket never gives back what they take, even I knew that.
but I pleaded anyway. as tears welled up. I could feel the lump in my throat, I swallowed hard, "please."
his hand moved towards me, he looked like he was actually debating giving it back.
when I heard a woman cry out “Attenzione, pickpocket!”
as a group of citizens just trying to help, chased him off.
more tears came as I crumpled to the ground. the woman who shouted came over to comfort me.
I broke down in this stranger's arms.
as she rubbed and patted my back softly.
after a few moments, I wiped my eyes, straightening up.
upon seeing the curly haired little girl, standing behind her. frightened. I smiled despite myself. and reached out to hug her again.
"It's not your fault, I'm not angry." I held her close. looking deep into her stunning green eyes.
she nodded. and walked slowly back to the group of people that had formed.
I stood up brushing myself off.
without the comfort of the necklace. the hard truth set in, heavy on my shoulders. I was never going to get that back.
I took my leave of the medium sized group. thanking them and waving goodbye.
I walked silently for an hour all the way back to the place I was staying. a little guesthouse, run by a local family, who were super genuine and nice people.
time passed easily, like none of it mattered.
I opened the door, and slumped into the bed. its cold embrace, encircling me. as I ugly cried into the sheets, and blankets.
I should've known
how stupid was I?
Mom Im sorry
I should've known, I should've known, I should've...
I cursed myself. pulling my knees tightly to my chest. as I wallowed in self pity.
mascara ran down my face.
-great
at some point in the night, my eyes grew heavy, and I finally fell asleep.
when I woke the next morning my throat was raw, and my eyes were puffy. I put makeup on, hoping it would help hide the evidence.
I wore a yellow florescent tube top, with a pair of light colored jorts. and white asic sneakers.
my outfit looked like it was missing a necklace, my chest and neck looked bare, but I didn't dare wear another piece of jewelry.
I wore my sun kissed strawberry hair in a pony-tail, tying it up with a string in a little bow.
I checked the time. I had enough time to get to the tour if I took the station.
I got on the station from the mainland I rode for about 2 hours made it to Milan.
I had a tour scheduled for a CEO business and I was more excited about it yesterday, but I wasn't going to miss it either.
as I walked inside, I was greeted by a room filled with tourists like me, except they probably weren't as incompetent as me. I thought.
a group of people swarmed to the middle of the room, I pushed my way through the crowd, trying to see what the commotion was about. when I saw the big man himself. Mr. David Knightley.
"I'm very pleased to see you all, welcome to my humble abode." he announced, his English was impeccable though his accent was evident.
“and when I’m old and grey, my greatest pride and my next successor, Alec Knight.” he continued.
he stepped aside as his son walked next to him and bowed
A practiced bow—too perfect to feel sincere.
But maybe I was just resentful after everything that had happened.
the small crowd cheered and clapped.
Still, something about him felt wrong.
Recognizably wrong.
My stomach tightened as he straightened, the movement slow, deliberate—like he knew exactly what he was doing, rehearsed.
And then he looked at me.
The room blurred. The voices around us dulled into something distant, indistinct. muffled chatter.
For a moment, it felt like the entire space had narrowed to just that look. in that small moment, that seemed to stretch.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain if you asked—
I was intrigued.
A flicker of something unsettled beneath my skin.
Where have I seen him before?
After an hour of awkward prolonged conversations, and watching other people talk with him and Mr. Knight.
it was my turn.
before I had met his eyes again, I had repeated exactly what I was going to say.
but when it came to saying anything at all.
I just stared into his eyes.
it wasn't just him. something about his eyes, I had seen them, somewhere, I just couldn't place it.
"what cat got your tongue?" he leaned closer to me, more eye level.
and then I saw the chain around his neck. tucked into his shirt, but I knew exactly who's it was.
like a flashback, the memories replayed.
the necklace, those eyes, that phrase.
I unintentionally scoffed aloud.
he smirked straightening up again.
“how do you feel about petty theft?”
I directed the question toward Mr. Knight—but I never took my eyes off Alec.
For a fraction of a second, something shifted in his expression.
Barely there.
But I caught it.
Mr. Knight began to respond, but Alec cut in smoothly—too smooth.
“Is that really a question for someone in his position?”
His hand settled briefly on his father’s shoulder, a gesture that looked respectful… but felt like control.
Defensive.
“I just think it’s interesting,” I said lightly. “Don’t you?”
His gaze sharpened.
There it is.
“I think,” Alec replied, voice calm, “that curiosity usually comes with a purpose.”
A warning.
Or a challenge?
I smiled.
“Maybe.”
A pause.
“Or maybe I just like knowing who I’m dealing with.”
his jaw tightened.
“What was your name again?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Alec,” he said. “Alec Knight.”
“Right.”
I let the silence sit between us for just a moment longer than necessary.
“Tell me, Alec… how does it feel to lose?”
I turned to face his father Mr. Knight again. and listened as he gave a beautiful speech, just for me, it really enlightened my perspective.
his most memorable quote from the whole conversation was.
"Just because you're not fortunate, doesn't mean you resent the people who succeeded." that line hit somewhere deep in my chest.
I usually resented those around me just because they were more fortunate.
but Alec, Alec was different, something about him, made me think about everything.
why would a wealthy ceo's son, steal things?
if its a hobby, stealing things from vulnerable girls.
he was about to learn, I was much more than just vulnerable.
he was going to lose at his own game.
