The air shifts the moment she steps through. The temperature changes — warmer, richer. In a narrow alleyway she hears the faint hum of a Vespa, the echo of laughter slipping between stone walls, the smell of wine and baked bread mixing in the air. It all crashes into her senses at once, overwhelming but comforting.
"Oh Rome, how have I missed you,"
Ivan says playfully, looking up with his arms open as if the sky is welcoming him back.
Hina stands behind him. His theatrics aren't new, but the energy of the city hits her too — alive, warm, textured.
They walk out of the alleyway and Rome reveals itself: people moving like a river, chatter rising and falling, lights glowing from old windows. The air feels alive.
Hina feels… calmer. More grounded than she has in days.
"Welcome to Rome," Ivan says, spreading his arms dramatically. "See? Even the air here flirts with you."
Hina almost smiles. She walks behind him, taking in the buildings — tall, worn, beautiful. The streets feel tight yet full of life. Her eyes drift to Ivan's bandaged face. People nearby glance, but quickly look away.
"How can you walk around with your face fully bandaged?" Hina asks with curiosity. Her voice is soft, but the question lingers in the warm air.
"Simple, Hina." He looks at her. "I walk," he says, teasing.
Hina rolls her eyes, sighing.
"Seriously."
Ivan looks ahead.
"Nobody usually acts. After all, people think it's a condition."
"So you're considered legally blind?"
"Pretty much."
Hina sighs, wondering again what he's hiding behind that bandaged façade.
They reach a small restaurant tucked between ivy-covered buildings. A golden sign reads La Fenice. Inside, soft jazz drifts across the room, candles flicker on marble tables, and waiters move with practiced elegance. The warm air smells like rosemary and wine.
Ivan smirks. "Told you. Fancy."
Hina sits across from him. The candlelight dances across the glass, reflecting softly on the table.
The waiter hands them menus. The leather feels smooth and cool under her fingers.
"Pick whatever you want, my treat," Ivan says, laying back.
The waiter pours wine for Ivan. When he moves to pour hers, Ivan waves him off.
"Yeesh, I love Italy but the drinking here isn't normal."
Hina's ears perk up. She looks at him.
He continues,
"Back home, we drink to survive the cold. Here, they drink to enjoy the sun."
He chuckles.
"Different worlds, same glass."
Hina nods slowly, eyes drifting over the menu. The murmur of nearby conversations feels distant, letting his words sink in.
She felt terrified entering this world. Alone. Unwanted. But now… with Mera, Asim, Ivan… the sharp edges of her past feel like they're softening.
Ivan sighs.
"Please order whatever you want, my wallet is able to handle it here."
Hina looks up.
"Aren't you going to order anything…?"
Ivan chuckles, pointing at his face.
"Like I said, Hina, to eat, ill need to remove my mask."
Hina sighs lightly, placing the menu down.
When her food comes, the warmth hits her immediately. She slowly picks up the slice, the cheese stretching slightly. She takes a bite — the smoky crust, soft cheese, and basil blend in a way that makes her shoulders relax.
As Ivan drinks his wine. The dark red doesn't stain his bandages at all.
Hina notices for a moment — but the pizza distracts her.
"Enjoying the pizza, Hina? Enjoy it. Surviving in a room with a high level threat? I'm proud," Ivan says, proud but also tired.
Hina freezes. The bite sits heavy on her tongue. The memory flashes through her again — cold, dark, suffocating. She lowers her eyes, swallows, and quietly continues eating.
The restaurant feels warm, alive with chatter, but a quiet space seems to form around her.
"Hina…"
She lifts her head slowly.
"Look, I'm proud of you surviving. But careful next time, alright? Can't risk my first student to be dead," he says, concern hidden behind the calm tone.
Hina nods.
Her eyes wander to the window. The sun is setting, painting the street gold.
Where is this heading… she thinks.