Page 78 of Fire and Silk
I look up and smile at him, making sure my eyes crinkle just enough to look convincing. He watches me for a second longer, then smiles back—small, unsure, but accepting it.
“I get it,” he says quietly. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
“Exactly,” I reply, taking a pretend sip. “Just a lot.”
He perks up as I set the coffee back down, and I watch a familiar glint return to his eyes—something bordering on hope. His hand slips into his back pocket, pulling out his phone again.
“I have good news,” he says, the tone in his voice warm and eager, like he’s about to unwrap a gift for me. “I called in a few favors. Spoke with friends at the embassy. We can have new passports ready in a few hours.”
He grins, full and bright, as if this single act could wipe the last few days off the map. “We’ll be on a flight to Italy by evening.”
My lips part slowly. “That fast?”
He nods. “Yeah. No need to go back to your apartment either. Anything you need, we’ll buy it new. Clean slate. Fresh start.”
His words tumble out like reassurance, but it all feels fast. Like someone covering a wound before checking if it’s still bleeding.
I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath me. “But… my documents. My music stuff. Journals. Birth records. My brother’s—” I stop myself. My chest tightens.
He crouches down in front of me, hands resting on my knees, steady and gentle.
“Nicola can get them,” he says, eyes locked on mine. “She has your keys, right? I’ll call her. She can pack up everything and ship it to us.”
A small flicker sparks in my chest. Nicola.
I blink.
It’s the first time I’ve thought of her since everything happened. Her laugh. The chipped nail polish. The way she used to hum to my practice scales while doing her makeup in the dressing room.
“How do you know her? Can I see her?” I ask, the words leaving me before I fully form them. “I should talk to her. Tell her I’m okay.”
Mico’s mouth tightens for the briefest moment. Not a grimace, not quite hesitation—but a pause. Then he softens his expression again, tilting his head.
“I’ll tell you everything later. And of course you’ll see her,” he says. “I’ll fly her over to Italy. First-class. But we just need to leave first, Lira. It’s not safe here anymore.”
He reaches for my hands again and laces our fingers. “Please. Just trust me.”
I look down at our joined hands.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles in slow, comforting circles, and I feel the strength in his grip—reassuring, steady
“I want you to know how serious I am,” he says softly. I freeze as he produces a ring from his pocket
He reaches for my left hand. My fingers hesitate.
Still, I let him take it.
His touch is gentle, but my hand feels limp inside his. He slides the ring on slowly, deliberately, like he’s sealing something fragile. And when the metal settles against my skin, he leans in and presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“I love you, Lira,” he says, looking up into my face.
I don’t know what my expression is doing, but something in it makes his smile falter.
“I know we’ve been through a lot,” he adds, trying to steady the moment. “But we’re getting out. This is the end of it. No more chaos.”
I try to smile his phone rings and the moment passes. He looks at the phone and then tucks it into his back pocket and turns to me, his hands bracing the edge of the desk behind him.
“I need to head out for a bit,” he says, eyes lifting to meet mine. “Just to Kangaroo Island. I’ve got some things stashed there that we might need for the trip—documents, contacts. I’ll head straight to the embassy from there.”
