Part One: The Girl Who Looked Up

“I don’t want to go to my class.” His voice wavered, eyes glancing at the uneven cobblestones beneath our feet.

“You should go,” I said gently.

“No.” He shook his head, stubborn and defiant. “I have to introduce myself in Italian. Everyone will laugh at me.”

“They won’t laugh at you.” I tried to reassure him, though I wasn’t entirely sure.

He shot me a look. “At least not out loud.”

“You’re not helping,” he muttered, and I laughed softly, nudging his shoulder.

We wandered through the narrow alleys of Rome, the golden afternoon light painting everything in hues of orange. Eventually, we found ourselves by an old apartment block. Sitting on the edge of the window alcove, I watched him as he stared at the street below, his expression distant.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. His hands clenched my shirt, his knuckles white.

Before I could process what was happening, a figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby window. It was an older man—his movements slow, deliberate. Time seemed to stretch as he climbed onto the ledge. For a moment, his eyes met mine. They were hollow, resigned like a man already gone.

Then he jumped.

The world went silent.

My mind shattered into fragments—his scream, the sound of breaking glass, the sickening thud as his body hit the cobblestones.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding in my chest. My legs felt like they were buried in concrete, frozen, useless. The ringing in my ears drowned out the world until the chaos of voices and footsteps came rushing in.

“Are you okay?” someone asked, shaking me gently.

I opened my eyes, tears spilling down my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

He was still holding me, his face pale, his voice trembling. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

I couldn’t answer. The words wouldn’t come. All I could think about was that look—the brief, haunting connection in his eyes before he fell.

Part Two: The Fall of Mr. Paganini

Mr. Paganini woke up late that morning, around 11, his chest heavy with dread. The call came just as he was sitting at the breakfast table. His secretary’s voice was trembling on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t save you.”

Paganini froze, the words crashing over him like a wave. The phone slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He slumped into his chair, his body slack with despair.

The walls seemed to close in around him, suffocating him. The weight of his secrets—years of corruption, millions of euros stolen—felt unbearable. For decades, he’d lived as a law-abiding man, respected, and admired. But beneath the surface, there was rot.

And now, it had all come crashing down.

The police had everything—documents, ledgers, files. He’d told his secretary to destroy the evidence, but it was too late. They were coming for him.

He couldn’t face prison. He couldn’t face the shame.

Rising from his chair, Paganini walked to the living room window. Outside, the streets of Rome were alive with tourists and locals, laughter and chatter echoing in the distance.

He leaned against the window frame, staring blankly at the world below. Then he saw them—a young couple in the alley across the street. They were laughing, carefree.

For a moment, their happiness felt like a taunt.

The girl looked up, and their eyes met. Something flickered in her expression—confusion, concern—but Paganini couldn’t bring himself to care.

Lifting one leg over the ledge, he steadied himself, his movements automatic.

The girl’s face stayed with him in those final moments.

And then he let go.

The fall was swift, the sound of impact brutal. His glasses shattered against the cobblestones, fragments embedding into his skin. Blood pooled around him as chaos erupted—screams, shouts, the sound of running feet. Across the street, the girl’s friend held her tightly as she stared, her eyes wide with shock.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, shaking her gently.

But the girl couldn’t speak. Her tears fell silently, her mind replaying the moment over and over again—the look in the man’s eyes before he jumped.