Their story was not perfect, pieces were misplaced and told through snippets, but Anya and Alessio were complicated people. It didn’t make sense, and it shouldn’t.
Anya didn’t want to be on a reality TV love show, to open past wounds, and to leave with the thought of sweet reconciliation.
They were as close as dearest strangers, and it would’ve been a nice reunion—if he didn’t look like he wanted to bury her under landfill.
Alessio knew he couldn’t change, even if he wanted to. He had always been like this, possessive and controlling, but he was good at hiding it.
He learned from past mistakes, every move was deliberately manipulative, yet so reflective of his heart. He would be more subtle this time and double the leash he would put on her again.
He was never flawed in her eyes, and now, he wouldn’t let her believe otherwise.
“I don’t want her love, just her.”
He couldn’t tell if it was love or resurfaced obsession. That was fine. Anya was scared of love anyway.
