The gunshot came before the scream.
One second, his father’s heavy footsteps echoed through the rain-slick alley. The next, he was on his knees, blood pooling like ink beneath him. Luca watched, frozen, unseen in the shadows. Just a boy. Helpless. Powerless. The second shot rang louder than the first. His father’s body crumpled fully, head bowed like he was praying.
But this time, the scene shifted.
It wasn’t his father.
It was him.
And it wasn’t Luca watching from the shadows—it was his daughter.
“Daddy!” Her voice tore through the darkness. “Daddy, no—!”
Luca bolted upright with a strangled gasp, drenched in sweat. The sheets tangled around his legs like chains, his heart hammering against his ribs. The silence of the penthouse wrapped around him like a vice—too quiet, too clean, too far from that cursed alley.
A soft rustle beside him, then the warmth of a hand found his chest.
“I’m here,” Nova murmured. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just grabbed her hand and pressed it to his heart, grounding himself in her calm.
Nova shifted closer. Even half-asleep, she moved with that unshakable grace she always carried. “Same dream?”
He nodded, throat thick. “Except this time… it was Alex watching me die.”
Nova’s sigh was low, but steady. “You know that’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I do. Because I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
He gave a short, broken laugh, rubbing his palm over his face. “Pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”
She leaned in, her forehead touching his. “We protect each other. Always have.”
The room was still dim, early sunlight just brushing the edges of the blackout curtains. Luca inhaled her scent—jasmine and cedar, the only thing that ever truly calmed him. The remnants of the dream still clawed at the edges of his mind, but she was stronger than the fear.
“You want to try sleeping a little longer?” Nova asked gently.
He shook his head. “Nah. If I go back under, I’ll just land in the same damn nightmare.”
“Then let’s start the day.”
They got up together like they always did—slow, steady, a dance they’d choreographed over years of mornings both good and bad. By the time they reached the sleek marble staircase that curved down to the open-plan kitchen below, the scent of toast and eggs hung in the air.
“Morning!” came the chirpy voice of their daughter, already seated at the glass breakfast table, tapping something into her phone with one hand and scooping scrambled eggs with the other.
Luca raised a brow. “Eating without us again, huh?”
Alex grinned, unapologetic. “You two were still asleep. Figured I’d fuel up before class.”
Nova ruffled her daughter’s hair on the way to the counter. “Well, it’s not polite, but at least you didn’t burn the kitchen.”
“Yet,” Alex smirked.
Luca chuckled, grabbing a cup of coffee. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “I’m lucky I’m your daughter. Otherwise, this level of sass wouldn’t fly.”
“She’s got a point,” Nova said, handing Luca a plate.
The three of them fell into easy rhythm—eating, chatting, occasionally poking fun at one another. It wasn’t a household of rigid rules or cold etiquette. Their home was laughter and soft lighting, jazz playing low in the background, morning light spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows like blessing.
“Got a full day of lectures?” Nova asked, sitting down with her tea.
“Two lectures, one group project, then library.” Alex stood up and grabbed her bag. “I’ll be home by seven. Love you both!”
She leaned over to kiss Luca’s cheek and then Nova’s. Her brown eyes sparkled with the kind of light that made Luca’s chest ache.
“You sure you don’t want the driver to drop you?” Nova asked.
“I’m walking. I like the breeze.”
“Smart girl,” Luca murmured, watching her disappear down the hall. “Got that from me.”
Nova raised an eyebrow. “Sure she did.”
He smiled. “Okay, mostly from you.”
Once Alex left, the air quieted. A hush settled—comfortable, familiar, but this time... it felt a little too fragile.
Nova was tying her dark hair into a high ponytail when she paused. Her hand trembled—only slightly, but Luca noticed.
“You okay?” he asked, standing.
Nova blinked. “Yeah. Just a... headache. Give me a sec.”
But her other hand clutched the edge of the table, her lips pressed tightly together. That wasn’t a normal headache. Not with the way her breath caught. Not with the way her eyes briefly lost focus.
Luca was already by her side. “Nova?”
She waved him off. “It’s nothing. It’ll pass.”
“You sure? You look—”
“I’m fine, Luca,” she said a little too firmly. Then, softer, “Just... let’s get ready for work, yeah?”
He didn’t push. Not yet. But he watched her the whole time they moved through their routine—her steps a little slower, her eyes a little dimmer. She still looked like the woman he’d fallen in love with—fierce and breathtaking—but something about her smile felt stretched, like it cost more today than usual.
Their driver, Miles, was already waiting outside in front of the building by the time they descended from the penthouse. The luxury car gleamed in the morning sun, all polish and precision.
As they slid into the backseat, Nova turned to him with that same unreadable look she wore when she was about to deliver news no one wanted to hear.
“Luca,” she said quietly, “I got my test results back. From the hospital.”
He felt his pulse still. “What test results?”
Nova looked out the window. “The ones I took after I fainted last month.”
“You said that was nothing.”
“I wanted it to be.”
His throat went dry. “What did they say?”
She turned back to him, and her voice cracked—not loud, not dramatic, just... broken in that quiet way that only someone who’s already accepted the truth can sound.
“They’re calling it early-onset dementia.”
Luca blinked.
The words didn’t compute at first.
“What?”
“It's not too bad yet,” she continued. “And they said it might be genetic. My aunt had it. My mother showed symptoms late but didn’t say anything.”
“No,” Luca said sharply. “No. That’s not—it’s too early. You’re fine. You’ve always been fine.”
Nova smiled faintly. “Luca... I’m not fine. I’ve known for a while.”
“You what—?”
“I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want to ruin what we have, what we built, especially for Alex. But it’s getting harder to ignore. The headaches. The confusion. The way I sometimes... forget things.”
Luca sat back like she’d struck him.
Dementia. His Nova.
“You’re not dying,” he said, the words rough in his throat. “You’re not. We’ll fight this. There’s treatment. There’s research. We’ll find something.”
“I’m not giving up,” she said. “But I need you to hear me.”
He looked at her, eyes wild. “I’m listening.”
“I want to see Alex happy before I go. Before it gets bad. I want to see her in love. Settled. With someone who looks at her the way you looked at me when we danced barefoot in that shitty Brooklyn apartment and pretended the lights weren’t flickering.”
Luca’s heart cracked.
“That was a good night,” he whispered.
“It was everything,” Nova replied, reaching for his hand. “And I want that for her. Before I start forgetting her face. Before I forget you.”
His hand closed tightly around hers.
“You’re not going to forget us. Not in a million years.”
Nova leaned her head on his shoulder, and for the first time since he woke from that nightmare, the silence didn’t feel empty.
It felt full of everything they still had. And everything they might lose.
But they still had now. For now.