He is my danger

GIULIA SANTORI’S POV

"Darn it, I'm running late!" I mutter.

I glance at the bedside alarm clock, which shows seven in the morning. It didn't go off at the expected time, causing me to start the day slightly annoyed.

I jump out of bed, take off my pajamas, and rush to the bathroom to start my morning routine. I shower warmly, put on comfortable clothes, and then have breakfast.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, wearing jeans, a white blouse, and a black hoodie to protect against the current cold weather in Milan and somewhat to conceal my body's curves with the heavy coat, as I'm a bit shy. I finish with casual black sneakers. My hair is long and dark, so I tie it up in a neat ponytail. I apply a touch of blush to my pale cheeks, light mascara to gently emphasize my gaze, and clear lip gloss to enhance my lips, and I'm ready.

I grab the bag I use to carry my belongings and descend the wooden stairs that lead to the open-plan living room and kitchen. I live alone in a quiet residential neighborhood. The house isn't a mansion, but it is comfortable enough for a peaceful life.

Breakfast is rushed, as I need more time. I quickly pour cereal and milk into a bowl, and as soon as I finish, I head out hurriedly. Passing the small front yard, I observe the weather. It's cloudy today, and considering the time, the atmosphere is calm, with little activity.

I need to catch the bus, which is five minutes away from my house. Its route includes Luigi University, where I study Music, and that's my final destination.

It doesn't take long for the bus to arrive, stopping for waiting passengers, and I get on.

"Good morning, Giulia!" the driver greets politely.

It's a daily routine, so the driver is already familiar with my presence there at this time on most days.

I gaze out of the bus's large window. Milan is entirely different from Bolzano, a small town a few kilometers away, where I was born and my parents still live. Sometimes, I feel a bit lonely, but the university keeps me busy, helping to alleviate that feeling.

About forty minutes later, I arrived at the university. I quickly disembarked from the bus, thanking the driver, Antoine, and rushed so as not to miss the first class.

When I enter the classroom, the professor begins his daily lecture, and I silently thank my luck for arriving in time to catch most of his explanation.

"Excuse me, teacher," I say softly and timidly.

He grants permission, and I'm relieved. I immediately head to my usual seat, and a few people around me glance at me. My face feels warm from blushing. I hate being the center of attention.

The class continues smoothly; today, it's mostly theoretical. I absorb all the explanations attentively; I've always dedicated myself to being an exemplary student and giving my best.

"Congratulations, Giulia. Your grades were the best in the class," the professor praises.

I was always shy and immersed in my world from a young age. I used music to uplift myself, feel more open, and soothe moments of sadness.

Today's class is full-time, which means it spans most of the day. Lunch is provided at the campus cafeteria, a cozy place where students can stay without needing to leave. I sit alone at one of the tables and have my meal.

"The usual?" the waitress asks, her smile ever-present.

"Yes, please... I'm famished," I affirm, returning her smile.

After finishing the meal, there's a leisure moment, and I choose to do one of my favorite things: play the piano. A room with instruments is available for students, and I take advantage of the empty slot to sit there and skillfully play the piano keys, immersing myself in the perfect sound I create.

I return to class after that, and there are more lessons in the afternoon. Different professors teach each class, but I'm familiar with all of them, as I've been here for a little over a year.

Then, at the usual time, as the day winds down, the last class ends, and I can finally head back home. I follow the same route to the bus stop of the same line, which will take me close to my house.

"How was your day, Giulia?" Antoine smiles, always helpful.

"Same as always, Antoine. And yours?" I politely inquire.

"Nothing out of the ordinary so far," he chuckles.

I head to one of the empty seats, and the same return route begins. I close my eyes, resting my head on the bus seat. I feel tired because today was a demanding day in terms of classes.

The sun had already set, giving way to the night. The bus stops at the corner a few minutes from my house. I get off, bid the driver farewell, and return home calmly. There's little activity on the street that day, which is expected in such a quiet neighborhood.

But at that moment, something catches my attention. Just ahead, there's an odd commotion. It's confusing to figure out what's happening, but I notice someone running across the street—likely a man, given his tall stature and muscular build. Behind him, four more men follow the same path, and it's at that moment I understand that it's a pursuit.

I'm very close to my house. My eyes widen in shock at the scene before me. The first man falls, and the others brutally pounce on him, raining down violent kicks and punches, spewing obscenities that I can't distinguish from this distance.

I found this act utterly cowardly. Knowing that the lone man wouldn't survive this onslaught was unjust, as he had no means of defense. I don't know what came over me, but I sprinted towards them, shouting as loudly as possible, attempting to save a life, even if it was a stranger's.

"The police are here!" I shout as loudly as possible.

At that moment, the men stop, exchanging incomprehensible words among themselves. One of them glances in my direction, but then they flee, heading in the opposite direction until they vanish.

I look at the man on the ground, writhing and groaning in pain. My heart is racing as I approach him. He needs help. I drop my bag to the ground and kneel beside him, not knowing what to do.

"Oh my God, let me... help you," I'm utterly confused.

The man places a hand on his likely injured ribs. He looks up at my face, and even though it's covered in blood, I can see his gaze fixed on mine. We lock eyes for a few seconds.

My attention shifts from his gaze when I notice more people approaching, and I become alarmed. I fear it might be the same men who attacked him, and in that case, we'd both be in danger.

"Vittorio... Vittorio, damn it!" one of them shouts.

As they come closer, I realize they're not the same men as before. They're acquaintances of the man who's now horribly injured on the ground. One of them helps him with difficulty, and I take a few steps back, still stunned by the situation.

"He was being attacked, and I... I yelled. They ran that way," I nervously point to the direction they fled.

"Are you alone?" He asks me, looking at me suspiciously.

"Yes," I reply, my voice trembling.

They look at me confused as if they can't believe I managed that alone. I look at the man once more; now that he's standing, despite his injuries and blood-soaked appearance, I can see he's handsome with a beard and Italian features, an athletic body dressed in black formal attire.

"Thank you for saving him. We need to tend to these wounds... let's go!"

One of them expresses gratitude, gesturing to the others who help the man, apparently named Vittorio, into a luxurious dark car parked a few meters away.

I stand still for a few minutes, watching the car drive away. I place my hand over my chest, my heart racing, still struggling to believe what happened. I pick up my bag from the ground and walk towards my house, trying to calm down and forget about that terrifying incident.