[Alfio's POV]
"Frozen again?" I groaned dramatically from the velvet-cushioned couch, tossing another popcorn kernel into my mouth with the flair of a tired stage actor. "Are we just gonna pretend Elsa isn't a walking metaphor for repression and generational trauma?"
Aria turned to me, eyes wide with scandal, like I'd just told her Santa Claus moonlighted as a mob boss. "She's cool," she said with the kind of unwavering conviction only a Disney-loving child could possess. "Let. Her. Go."
"Oh, trust me, kiddo," I muttered, dramatically flopping back against the couch like a tired Greek tragedy heroine. "I'm letting everything go."
Sigh.
My future? Letting it go. My freedom? Definitely gone. My dignity? On a leash—held by a mafia prince with boundary issues and a face sculpted by the gods.
I deserved an award for Letting Go™. Somebody give me a gold statue and a Netflix deal already.
