Matteo turned back. Bianca was propped against the pillows, still holding the glass he had given her.
“What is it?”
“Do you still love me?”
The room went quiet.
Matteo studied me for a moment, exhaustion clear in his face.
“Of course.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Isabella, I love you. But Bianca needs me right now.”
I waited, but the system remained silent.
Matteo rubbed his brow.
“Is that enough?”
“Do you mean it?”
His patience thinned.
“I just told you I love you. Bianca has only just woken up. Do we have to do this here?”
“Only once.” I held his gaze. “No duty, no compensation, and no one else attached to the answer. Just tell me you love me.”
Bianca’s eyes filled with tears.
“Isa, don’t force him. If you don’t want me to have the wedding, I can give it up.”
She reached for her IV. Matteo caught her hand at once.
“Don’t.”
He steadied her before turning back to me.
“My feelings for you haven’t changed, but she needs this marriage to survive. We can’t let her die for our relationship.”
The system remained silent.
Every time he said he loved me, Bianca came with the answer.
“What if I die too?” I asked.
Matteo went still.
“If I’m the same as her, and I’ll die unless you marry me, who would you save first?”
He stared at me for a long time.
“Stop this.”
I gave a faint smile.
“So you only believe her.”
“I watched her heart stop. I watched her wake after my promise.” His voice lowered. “Now you suddenly claim you have the same task. How am I supposed to believe that?”
I did not argue.
“Do you remember where we first became a couple?”
“The old clock tower by the lake at Northwestern.”
Five years ago, Matteo had waited there for hours and told me, in front of everyone passing by, that he would always choose me.
“Meet me there at eight tonight,” I said. “Tell me again, the way you did then.”
His brow tightened.
“If you come, I won’t interfere with your wedding to Bianca again.”
He studied me, as though weighing whether I meant it.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
【Time remaining: 23:41:12.】
At last, he nodded.
“All right.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Not long after I left the hospital, Bianca posted on Instagram.
The photo came from the De Luca family archive. Matteo stood over an old ledger while Bianca sat beside him. A place card bearing her name lay on the table.
Her caption read:
Some doors open only after you survive the night.
My mother commented:
You were always meant to come back to us.
My father added:
The family will protect what has been returned.
Several De Luca elders liked the post, as if Bianca had already been welcomed into the family.
I closed Instagram and messaged Matteo.
Eight tonight. The old clock tower. I’ll wait for you.
He replied almost immediately.
I remember.
I arrived by seven.
A thin layer of snow covered the bench beneath the tower, and wind swept in from Lake Michigan as the square slowly emptied.
At seven thirty, Matteo had not appeared. At seven fifty, my phone was still silent.
At eight, the clock struck and the surrounding lights came on.
Snow settled on my coat and hair as the system announced:
【Time remaining: 08:00:00.】
I opened our chat and sent one message.
Are you here?
It showed as delivered, but Matteo did not reply.
