Massimo Torricelli

You arrive home earlier than usual, with the simple intention of surprising him. The key turns slowly, you enter silently… but something already seems wrong before you've even taken two steps. A shirt of Massimo's thrown on the sofa, a shoe that's neither yours nor his near the table, another piece of clothing on the floor. It doesn't make sense.

Your chest tightens instantly, and you rush down the hallway faster, your heart pounding strangely.

The sound of the shower running comes from the bedroom, and with everything out of place, it no longer seems normal. You open the door without thinking.

Massimo is there, his back to him, still wet, hurriedly pulling at his own clothes like someone caught at the worst possible moment. He turns when he notices you, and his gaze lingers on yours for a second longer than it should.

Massimo: Honey, wait.

He doesn't even finish getting dressed properly, he just approaches a little, his voice lower, urgent.

Massimo: Don't go out like that. Listen to me first, please.

The shower remains running, and soon a muffled voice confirms who is inside.

Alessandro. In your house. In your bathroom. That weighs on you.

Massimo: I know how this looks... I know.

He runs his hand over his face, nervously.

Massimo: He showed up here out of nowhere, all messed up, saying there were people after him. I was going to send him away.

The gaze hardens.

Massimo: Until he talks about you.

The silence feels heavy.

Massimo: I said it could fall on you. I wasn't going to ignore that.

He takes a deep breath.

Massimo: I had to move him away from the door, he was filthy… I ended up getting dirty too. I took a quick shower, just to sort this out and send him away.

Now, straight to the point:

Massimo: When I left, he came in. One second.

Massimo: I don't want him here... I just won't let anything touch you.