Episode 4: Smoke and Slience

The Nights at St. Marin had their own rhythm.

Music from dorm windows. Laughter echoing through the courtyard. The faint smell of cigarettes and trouble.

And somewhere in the middle of it — Luca Rossi.

People said he had a new girl every few weeks.

Some whispered he didn’t even know what their name is

But no one ever turned him down.

He had that kind of pull — the grin that dared you to say no, the gaze that made it impossible to mean it.

⸻

On Friday night, he was sprawled on the hood of his friend’s car, a bottle in his hand, smoke curling between his fingers.

The lights from the campus party flickered across his jawline, the laughter around him loud and meaningless.

“Another conquest tonight?” one of his friends teased.

Luca shrugged. “Depends on who’s bored enough.”

The girl beside him — dark lipstick, half-drunk — smiled. “You make it sound like work.”

He grinned lazily. “Sometimes might”

Even when they laughed, something in his chest felt heavy.

He doesn’t know why;

Maybe because every night felt the same nightmare.

Different faces. Same noise. Same emptiness after.

⸻

The next morning, sunlight stabbed through his blinds.

His phone buzzed — a reminder from his father’s assistant:

Meeting at noon. Do not embarrass your father.

Luca rolled over with a groan.

“Yeah, sure.He wouldn’t dare to ruin family image,” he muttered, voice thick with sarcasm.

He showered, threw on a hoodie, and left his house— heading for the administration building, the one place that smelled more like judgment than air.

⸻

Meanwhile, Emilia sat under a tree near the library, her nose buried in a thick book.

The grass was cool, the campus quiet — the kind of peace she loved.

She had plans for the day: finish her reading, call her mom, maybe bake something with Maya later.

Simple.

Predictable.

Safe.

But then — chaos.

A soccer ball rolled out of nowhere, hitting her bag with a thud.

“Sorry!” someone called.

She looked up. It wasn’t just someone.

It was him.

Luca Rossi.

No hoodie could hide him — that careless swagger, that smirk people whispered about.

He jogged over, hair messy, eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

“Guess it’s not your day, huh?” he said, retrieving the ball.

Emilia blinked. “You should be more careful.”

He smirked. “You should be more alert.”

She arched a brow. “I was studying.”

“Exactly.” He spun the ball once in his hand. “Books don’t dodge soccer balls.”

“Neither do idiots,” she said flatly, turning back to her book.

Luca froze — just for a second — before a small, unexpected laugh escaped him.

He wasn’t used to that.

Girls didn’t talk back. They giggled. Flirted. Blushed.

This one? She didn’t even look up again.

⸻

Later, at lunch, Maya joined Emilia at their usual spot.

“Guess who was asking about you?” she said, wiggling her brows.

Emilia sighed. “Who cares—”

“Luca Rossi.”

Emilia groaned. “Maya, no.”

“What? He was just… curious.”

“About what?”

“About the freshman who told him off near the field.”

Emilia frowned. “He started it.”

“I’m sure he did,” Maya teased. “But trust me, Emilia — no one talks to Luca like that.

Emilia rolled her eyes.

That night, as Luca sat in his room staring at the half-finished sketches on his wall, he thought of

the voice calling him an idiot.

And for some reason, it made him smile.

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