Giorgia didn’t really believe in first dates anymore.
After so many disappointments, she had almost stopped using dating apps. But that night she made an exception.
His name was Luca.
From the very first message he seemed different from the others: kind, funny, curious. He didn’t send boring lines or clichés. He asked real questions. When they discovered they loved the same books, the same music, and even the same favorite dish — pasta with clams — Giorgia found herself smiling alone at her phone.
So they decided to meet.
The restaurant was small, with warm lights and wooden tables.
When Giorgia walked in, Luca was already there.
He looked up and smiled.
“Are you Giorgia?”
“And you must be Luca.”
The evening started with surprising ease. Talking to him felt natural. They laughed, interrupted each other, finished each other’s sentences.
They discovered they had grown up just a few kilometers apart without ever meeting before.
They both hated noisy big cities.
They both loved the sea in winter.
Halfway through dinner Giorgia thought something she hadn’t thought in years.
Maybe this one is different.
When they left the restaurant, the night air was cool. They walked slowly down a quiet street.
“I don’t want the night to end yet,” Luca said.
“Me neither.”
He pointed down a darker street.
“My place is just around the corner. I have a terrace with an amazing view of the city. We could have a drink.”
Giorgia hesitated for a second. But everything had gone so well that she didn’t see any reason to doubt him.
“Okay.”
The apartment was elegant and minimal. Very tidy.
Luca brought two glasses of red wine. They sat on the couch.
They kept talking.
Travel. Childhood. Dreams.
At some point Luca looked at her with a different expression. Not just amused anymore.
More… observant.
“You know what’s strange?” he said.
“What?”
“It’s incredible how similar we are.”
Giorgia smiled.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Luca took a sip of wine.
Then he said quietly,
“You always check that no one is following you when you walk home.”
Giorgia froze.
“What?”
He continued calmly, like he was reading from a list.
“You avoid parking in dark streets. You never post your location in real time. You change routes when you’re walking alone.”
Giorgia’s smile disappeared.
“They’re just normal precautions.”
Luca nodded slowly.
“Yes. Very smart ones.”
Silence.
Then he added,
“The problem is… they don’t work.”
A cold shiver ran down Giorgia’s spine.
“What do you mean?”
Luca stood up and walked to a bookshelf.
He opened a drawer.
Inside were photographs.
Lots of photographs.
He placed them on the table.
Giorgia looked at them.
And the blood drained from her face.
They were all pictures of her.
Her at the supermarket.
Her leaving the university.
Her jogging in the park.
Dozens of them.
Maybe hundreds.
“I’ve been watching you for four months,” Luca said calmly.
Giorgia’s heart started racing.
“You’re insane.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
He paused.
“Just patient.”
Giorgia jumped to her feet.
“I’m leaving.”
“You can’t.”
His voice wasn’t angry. It was calm.
Too calm.
Giorgia stopped.
“Why?”
Luca looked straight into her eyes.
And smiled.
“Because this isn’t my apartment.”
The silence in the room suddenly felt heavy.
Giorgia felt her mind struggling to understand.
“What do you—”
Luca slowly stepped closer.
“This isn’t my place.”
He gestured around the room.
“It’s yours.”
Giorgia’s breath caught in her throat.
“What are you talking about?”
Luca picked up his phone from the table.
He turned the screen toward her.
There was a photo on it.
Her front door.
The exact same door.
The same hallway.
The same couch.
Giorgia slowly turned around.
She looked at the room.
The carpet.
The painting on the wall.
The small cabinet next to the window.
Everything.
Every single thing.
It was hers.
The memory hit her all at once like an explosion.
The door closing behind her.
The glass of wine.
Her head starting to spin.
Luca grabbing her arm.
Darkness.
He spoke softly.
“We really did meet tonight.”
Giorgia’s heart was pounding wildly.
“But the rest…”
He stepped even closer.
“…you imagined it.”
She stepped back.
“Why?”
Luca tilted his head slightly.
“Because people trust happy memories more easily.”
Then he pointed at the glass of wine on the table.
“And the sedative helps.”
The world around Giorgia seemed to bend.
Luca slowly picked up the keys from the table.
“Do you know what’s really fascinating?”
He opened the door.
“Tomorrow no one will believe your story.”
He gave her one last smile.
“Because in your memory…”
He paused in the doorway.
“…our first date was perfect.”
And he disappeared into the night.
