From the first pages, I was pulled into Luca’s raw, complicated world: a life marked by trauma, addiction, and the betrayal of having his most painful moments turned into art by a former lover. But it’s not just a story about being hurt, it’s about surviving it, rebuilding from the wreckage, and learning to hold your own pain with compassion.
Told through the eyes of Luca’s sister, the book offers a deeply intimate and emotional perspective on what it means to love someone through their darkest moments. The sibling bond here is messy, tender, and painfully real, a quiet force anchoring the entire narrative.
What makes this story unforgettable is its honesty. It doesn’t romanticize queerness or addiction. It sits with discomfort and refuses easy resolutions, showing healing as slow, complex, and non-linear. Luca isn’t always easy to love, but that’s what makes him human. His flaws are never sugarcoated, but the writing treats him, and his pain, with unwavering respect.
The use of art and astrology, especially the symbolism of the Fifth House, adds emotional depth and metaphorical richness without feeling heavy-handed.
This isn’t a feel-good book, it’s a feel-everything book. Gritty, lyrical, and ultimately hopeful, it left me reflective and a little wrecked, but also strangely comforted. If you’re looking for a story that stares down the hard stuff and still manages to shine, this one’s for you. Beautiful, brutal, and completely unforgettable.