*Olivia*
My mom used to tell me that silence spoke louder than words. With how quiet I was as a child, I’m sure she meant it to cheer me up, but as I grew up, I knew she meant something else entirely.
It was moments like these, when Giovani stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking like he'd take off a few heads if anyone said a single word, that I understood what she meant.
Dahlia and I stared at them in silence, while Giovani failed to even notice I was there as he stormed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and an ice pack, turning on his heel without a single word.
Gabriele stared at him, impassively, not even bothering to stop him as the two turned to leave.
But of course, I could never leave it like that. I should’ve taken my mother’s advice–read the room–and let Giovani cool down before trying to speak to him.
But I didn’t.
I always was one to meddle.
“Giovani,” I got to my feet, reaching my hand out.
