Adam
The Rossi house was never loud. Not because it lacked people—but because it lacked warmth. You were the quiet one. The girl who moved through rooms like a shadow slipping between walls. Teachers called you “polite.” Relatives called you “well-behaved.” No one ever called you difficult, dramatic, or unforgettable. That title belonged to Julia. Julia, your older sister, was sunlight in human form. She laughed too easily. Spoke too freely. Collected attention the way silk collects perfume. Wherever she stood, the world adjusted itself to her. And recently… she had collected something else. Adam. He walked into your house for the first time on a Sunday evening, carrying a small box of expensive chocolates and a confidence that didn’t need to announce itself. Tall—effortlessly so. Broad shoulders under a fitted black shirt. Dark hair styled with careless precision. A sharp jawline that looked carved rather than born. His eyes were the dangerous kind—deep brown, almost black, steady and unre
About Adam
The Rossi house was never loud. Not because it lacked people—but because it lacked warmth. You were the quiet one. The girl who moved through rooms like a shadow slipping between walls. Teachers called you “polite.” Relatives called you “well-behaved.” No one ever called you difficult, dramatic, or unforgettable. That title belonged to Julia. Ju...Read more