NovelKBC Chapter 259: Slept off
Chapter 259: Slept off
Chapter 259
KATYA POV
The door stood at the end of the corridor like it had been waiting. Chiara stopped a step behind me. For once, she didn’t rush ahead. Didn’t tease. Didn’t reach for the handle.
"This is it," she said softly, like saying it louder might wake something. I nodded, though my throat felt too tight to speak.
My hand hovered inches from the door, fingers curled inward, unsure. The air here felt different—cooler, heavier, as if it remembered things.
I told myself it was just a room. Just walls. Just space. But my pulse didn’t believe me. I exhaled slowly and wrapped my fingers around the handle. It was colder than I expected. Solid. Real. I turned it before I could think better of it.
The door opened without a sound. Light spilled out first—warm and pale, cutting through the dim corridor behind us. I stepped inside, and the scent hit me immediately.
Clean. Wood. Something faintly masculine but restrained, like it had learned discipline early and never forgotten it.
The room was... still. Not abandoned. Preserved. Everything was exactly where it had been left, as if time had paused the moment he walked out.
A wide bed with dark linen, perfectly made. A desk near the window, its surface bare except for a closed leather-bound book and an old watch resting beside it.
No clutter. No excess. Control, carved into space. My chest tightened. I took another step in, then another, my movements careful, almost reverent. The floor didn’t creak beneath my feet. The gray walls held their breath.
Large windows overlooked the gardens, sheer curtains stirring faintly with the breeze. Sunlight brushed the edges of the room but never fully claimed it, like even the light knew not to overstep.
This was where he had slept. The thought settled uncomfortably deep. I could picture it too easily—him younger, unmasked, still becoming whatever the world had demanded of him. Standing where I stood now. Sitting at that desk. Looking out that window.
I didn’t like how close it made him feel. Behind me, Chiara cleared her throat gently. "Nonna had it cleaned," she said. "But... she didn’t let them change anything."
I nodded again, though my eyes had landed on the chair near the desk. The leather was worn just enough to show it had been used. Frequently.
"I can stay if you want," Chiara added quickly. "Or—I can go. Whatever you need but I’m here, alright?."
I turned to look at her, really look at her. She wasn’t joking now. No bounce in her posture. Just quiet concern. "I think..." I swallowed. "I think I need a minute."
She smiled softly, relief flickering across her face. "Okay. I’ll be right outside. Yell if the furniture starts judging you."
That earned a faint huff of air from my nose. She stepped back into the corridor, pulling the door mostly closed behind her—leaving it cracked just enough that I didn’t feel sealed in.
Alone. The silence settled around me again, thicker now.
I walked to the bed and sat slowly on the edge, half-expecting the mattress to give differently under my weight, like it might recognize I didn’t belong.
My gaze drifted to the nightstand. Empty. No photographs. No personal touches. Just space. A life stripped down to function.
I pressed my palms against my knees, grounding myself. It’s just a room, I reminded myself again. It can’t hurt you.
But as I lay back against the pillows—carefully, tentatively—I couldn’t shake the feeling that the room was watching.
Not judging.
Remembering.
And somewhere deep in my chest, a question I wasn’t ready to answer yet whispered itself into existence.
Why had Nonna given me this room?
I stared at the ceiling, sunlight tracing patterns above me, and for the first time since arriving in Italy, I felt the weight of where I was settle fully into my bones.
Not as fear but as expectation.
____
"Katya... Katya." The sound threaded its way through my sleep gently, like it was careful not to break something.
I shifted, brows knitting faintly, the last fragments of a dream dissolving before I could hold onto them. "Katya."
My eyelids fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling, too high, too smooth. The air smelled clean, faintly warm.
Then my gaze focused, and Chiara’s face swam into view above me, framed by soft lamplight.
She was smiling. Not her usual mischievous grin. Something quieter. Fond.
"Oh," I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. "There you are," Chiara said softly, like she’d been waiting a while.
I pushed myself up slowly, the weight of sleep still clinging to my limbs. Chiara immediately stepped back half a pace, giving me space without me having to ask. I noticed that. I always noticed things like that.
"I’m—" I swallowed and rubbed at my eyes. "I’m sorry."
Chiara blinked. Then she laughed under her breath. "Sorry? For what?"
"For... falling asleep," I said weakly, heat creeping up my neck. "I didn’t mean to—"
"Please," she cut in gently. "You fell asleep. That’s not a crime." She tilted her head, studying me. "Honestly, I should be the one saying sorry. I woke you up."
I lowered my eyes, fingers twisting together in my lap. "You looked really peaceful," she added, quieter now. "Like... actually peaceful. I almost didn’t."
That made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t explain. "Oh," I said again, unsure what to do with that information.
Chiara cleared her throat, the moment shifting. "Anyway. I came to get you because it’s dinner time."
"Dinner?" I echoed, distracted. She nodded toward the window. "Yeah. You were out."
I followed her gaze and froze. The sky beyond the glass was no longer blue. Night had settled fully, deep and dark, the gardens below lit softly by lanterns that hadn’t been there before.
Stars pricked the sky faintly, distant and real. I had slept until night. "I—" My voice trailed off as I looked back at her. "I didn’t realize..."
"You needed it," Chiara said simply. No teasing. No jokes. Just certainty. I let out a slow breath and nodded, pushing myself fully upright.
The room felt different now—less watchful, softened by the low glow of lamps and the hush that came with night.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. I considered the question honestly. My body felt heavy but steadier than it had earlier. "I think so," I said.
She smiled again, brighter this time. "Good. Nonna hates it when people skip meals. She’ll pretend not to notice, but then she’ll judge you silently for at least a week."
That earned a small smile from me, real this time, even if it was faint.
I stood, smoothing the fabric of my clothes, taking one last glance around the room. It no longer felt like it was holding its breath.
Chiara turned toward the door, then paused. "Hey," she said, glancing back at me. "You did good today." I didn’t know what she meant exactly.
But somehow, I believed her
"Come on," she added lightly. "Let’s go before the food disappears. And before Elena decides I’ve talked too much and bans me from the table."
I followed her out into the corridor, the door closing softly behind me.
††
Thoughts.