Page 1 of King Of Order

Chapter 1

CHIARA

‘In my solitude, you haunt me

With reveries of days gone by

In my solitude, you taunt me

With memories that never die.’

The soft, aching strains of Billie Holiday’s voice poured through the car speakers.

Her voice, raw and full of heartbreak, wrapped around me like an embrace, mirroring the melancholy that clung to me.

The cobblestone roads beneath my tires sent gentle rumbles through me.

Naples’ lights flickered like stars fallen to the ground, casting a warm glow on the evening that only seemed to make me feel colder inside.

Outside my window, life carried on with a warmth I somehow struggled to experience.

Happy families bustled along the sidewalks, their laughter spilling into the street as they enjoyed an early supper.

Their faces lit with joy as children tugged on their parents’ hands, chattering in excitement.

The scent of roasting garlic and fresh bread wafted through the late summer air. Mixing with the distant sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter from the trattorias and cafés lining the piazzas.

Couples strolled hand in hand, their steps slow, unhurried, as though time bent to their happiness.

They paused under the lamplight, leaning in close, kissing as if the rest of the world faded away for them.

The scene resembled a painting—‘la vita è bella’ —out of reach and remote to me as the early quarter moon hanging over the rooftops.

I felt like a ghost in this city, driving through life while everyone else seemed to live it to the full, their moments rich with connection and love.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I drove past, the sight of their intimacy only deepening the hollow ache inside me.

Alone in a sea of togetherness, I observed happiness play out in slow motion as if mocking my isolation.

Billie’s hushed and languid voice soothed me as if she, too, understood this kind of aching loneliness. The notes lingered in the air, mixing with the sights outside my window—the warmth of Naples and the coldness in my heart colliding.

The piazzas flashed like scenes from a life I didn’t belong to, the laughter and love in stark contrast to the emptiness I carried inside me.

I kept driving, attempting to escape the hollowness, but it followed, sinking deeper with every embrace I spotted and each family I passed.

I drifted through it, Billie’s voice and I, a shadow among all the light.

I forced myself to think of something else to ward off my misery.

The gallery—the upcoming show, the faces that would soon fill the space, admiring the pieces I curated.

Running the show space had always been a labor of love, but tonight, it seemed like a heavier burden, one I was unable to shake.

I wanted to blame my malaise on exhaustion, but something more profound was gnawing at me. A sense of unease I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I turned onto a quieter road leading to the city’s serene edges, where the houses were more prominent. Most sat further apart with sprawling gardens hidden behind stone walls and gates.

The lights in the windows glowed with an inviting sparkle. I imagined families gathering for dinner or sitting by fireplaces inside.

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