Cobblestones and Fresh Starts (New State)
Paris’s POV
RING! RING! RING!
I absolutely hate that sound.
Groaning into my pillow, I blindly slapped my hand across the nightstand, intending to smash the dismiss button. Instead, my clumsy fingers hit snooze. It felt like I had barely closed my eyes for a single second before the digital monstrosity began blaring again five minutes later. Ugh.
“Kids! Wake up! We have to catch the morning train!” my dad’s voice boomed from the other side of the bedroom door, accompanied by a sharp, rhythmic knock.
For a fleeting moment, I considered pulling the duvet over my head and drifting back to sleep. But then reality crashed back into my mind. Today was the day. We were moving.
We were leaving Bologna because we were completely broke. My dad’s former boss had betrayed him, and when my dad threatened to expose the company’s corrupt financial secrets, the CEO fired him on the spot just to protect the company’s reputation. With no income and bills piling up, we had no choice but to pack up our lives and relocate to my dad’s old hometown: Verona, Italy.
Despite the bad luck, my dad is the best man I know. My younger sister, Hope, and I learned everything from him—how to be kind, how to carry ourselves with grace, and to never raise our voices at our elders. Even after our mother passed away, he always made time for us, no matter how exhausted or busy he was.
He had actually left Verona years ago when he married my mom, sacrificing his own roots because she couldn’t bear to leave her ailing parents.
Mom died when I was only seven and Hope was just two. Cancer. We only found out when it was already in the final stages because she had always stubbornly refused to go to the hospital whenever my father noticed she was sick. Dad had carried the grief of her loss for fifteen years, yet he never let his warmth fade.
Shaking off the heavy memories, I finally forced myself out of bed and into my morning routine. I brushed my teeth, tamed my hair into neat waves, and generously spritzed my favorite perfume over my skin. Once I looked presentable, I went to wake Hope up before heading into the kitchen.
The rich, savory scent of breakfast was already lingering in the air. Dad had cooked for us, knowing exactly how terrible Hope and I were at managing our time in the mornings.
Looking at my reflection in the hallway mirror, it hit me that I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Paris Morgan. I’m a twenty-two-year-old model—well, a struggling model, to be exact. I have long, ginger-brown hair that falls past my shoulders, striking hazel eyes, plump lips, and fair skin. I don’t like to brag, but I know I’m gorgeous. I have the face and the drive for the industry; I just haven’t caught my big break yet.
Up until today, my tiny family of three had lived a quiet, sometimes lonely, but mostly happy life in Bologna. But today, the map was changing.
“Eat fast, girls, or we’ll be chasing the train down the tracks!” Dad warned as Hope finally stumbled into the kitchen.
We practically stuffed the food into our mouths, talking in rushed, muffled sentences as we used those last precious minutes to double-check our bags and ensure we hadn’t left anything essential behind in the old house.
Two hours later, the train hissed to a stop at the Verona station. After a short taxi ride through streets lined with ancient Roman architecture and pastel-colored buildings, we finally arrived at our new home.
It was an older house, but it had three bedrooms. Honestly, that was the biggest blessing of all. As much as I love my little sister, sharing a room with a teenager can be exhausting. Especially when her boyfriend, Joshua Andrews, comes to visit.
Whenever Joshua has free time, he seems to find his way to our house to play computer games. He’s a good boy, though—and a fellow model, which is how he and Hope met two years ago at my former agency in Bologna. They clicked instantly, managing a long-distance relationship when he moved to Verona a while back. I’m genuinely happy that they are on such good terms, and now that we’ve moved here, they don’t have to deal with the distance anymore.
As for me? I’m single. I don’t do relationships. Romance takes up a massive amount of time, and time is a luxury I simply do not have.
I had to work myself to the bone at my old agency just to get a sliver of recognition. Now that I’m in Verona, I have to build my reputation up entirely from scratch. I need to find an agency, land a contract, and start bringing in money for my family.
As I carried the last of my heavy cardboard boxes into my new bedroom, looking out the window at the unfamiliar Verona sky, a strange nervous energy fluttered in my stomach. I knew it was going to be a hard climb. But I was ready for it.
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