Pain lances through my chest like a thousand needles, and I gasp, trying to force air into my lungs. The sterile sting of antiseptic burns my nostrils, mixing with the metallic taste of fear. I wince, but the fog in my head doesn’t lift, and my body feels like it’s been broken and pieced together wrong.
It comes to me in flashes.
The cabin. Daniele. Gunshots.
My eyes snap open, and the harsh fluorescent lights above me feel like a cruel assault on my senses. I shut them again, overwhelmed by the brightness. After a few seconds, I force them open once more, the world blurring in and out of focus. My head spins, every movement heavier than the last.
I blink a few times, trying to clear the fog in my head. A dull ache builds between my eyebrows as I come to. I try to lift my hand, but it feels heavy. Sluggish. My body aches in places I don’t remember.
“The baby…” I choke out, my hand moving to my flat stomach.
The steady beeping in the background spikes as panic surges through me.
“My baby.”
“Maria.”
A familiar voice breaks through the heavy silence. “You’re okay. Calm down… you’re okay.”
His tone is soft, thick with something I can’t quite place. The warmth in his voice is a lifeline, but it feels distant, like I’m hearing him from underwater.
As I turn toward him, I see him sitting by my bedside—his face pale, but his eyes warm, watching me with that familiar, intense gaze that always makes my heart ache in a way I can’t explain.
“Maria,” he whispers, leaning closer, his hand reaching for mine. “You’re awake. Finally.”
I want to speak, to say something—but my throat feels raw, and I struggle to swallow.
The panic that had gripped me slowly begins to fade… but only for a moment.
I look down at my stomach, waiting—hoping—to feel something inside me.
“The baby is fine,” he says, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“The doctor said the baby has a strong heartbeat,” he breathes out, “and everything looks stable.”
At his words, I ease a little. I sink back into the bed and let the fatigue pull me under—but only for a moment, as the thick silence lingers.
“How are you feeling?” he asks gently. His thumb strokes over my knuckles, comforting me.
I see the way his eyes roam over my body, searching for any sign of lasting damage—anything I might have woken up with.
“You gave me quite the scare there.”
I nod, but I still feel uneasy… unsure.
He knows about the baby.
When I left, he didn’t know a thing—and now he does. He knows I’m carrying his child.
He catches the look in my eyes, and his expression shifts—like he knows exactly what’s going through my mind.
His voice is shakier now. “You’re… you’re about eight weeks along, at least from what the doctor said. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me, amore,” he adds, his voice breaking slightly, like he’s afraid of pushing me too far.
I want to say something, but the weight of his words presses down on me harder than the pain in my chest.
I feel the sting of his words more than I should. It’s not just about the baby, not anymore. It’s about the lies, the silence, the secrets we’ve kept buried beneath the surface of everything.
The anger that had twisted in my chest for so long still lingers, hot and bitter. But now, under the weight of his remorse, I can’t help but wonder… can love overcome all of this? Can I forgive him, not just for what he did to me, but for what he did to my brother?
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the turmoil inside me, but it’s all still there—bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.
“I… I was scared, Matteo,” I whisper, my voice trembling, betraying the rawness I’m desperately trying to contain.
My throat feels tight, like every word is a struggle to get past the lump that’s lodged there. I push through it, but it feels like there’s so much more I can’t say, so much I’m still trying to understand.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I continue, my chest tightening. “After everything that happened with my brother… and then finding out it was you… It was too much to process, too much pain to carry. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe with the weight of it all.”
I pause, swallowing hard, trying to steady myself, but the words feel like they’re choking me.
“I need to get my head right, Matteo. I need space to figure out how to face you, to make sense of everything… because I still don’t know how I feel about what I saw. About you.”
The confession hangs heavy in the air between us. I feel the pull of everything that’s left unsaid, the guilt of not being able to fully give him the truth, and the confusion of not knowing where I stand anymore. How can I reconcile the man I love with the man who killed my brother? How can I love him in spite of everything he’s done?
Matteo’s eyes flash with a mix of regret and guilt. “I’m sorry, Maria. I can’t begin to make up for what I’ve done.”
His voice cracks—raw with remorse and pain—but I can’t tell if I’m ready to forgive him.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Or your mercy. Even if it was an accident—a horrible, terrible mistake—it doesn’t change the fact that I killed your brother.”
The words slice through me like a double-edged sword.
“I was hurt, Matteo,” I continue, my voice trembling now as the weight of the words press down on me. “And I was angry. Oh, God, I was so angry. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so badly because the truth was too hard to face—I was in love with you.”
I pause, the rawness of the confession hitting me like a wave. It’s painful, but it’s the truth. I can feel the walls around my heart start to crumble as the memory of him in the cabin floods my mind—the way he rushed to me, how his fear was written all over his face. How, even after everything, he still cared.
In the silence that stretches between us, it feels like I can hear my heart beating—steady, insistent, pulling me toward him. But the weight of what we’ve lost, of what he’s done, threatens to tear that connection apart.
I’ve spent so long convincing myself that love could be enough—that if I just held on tight enough, we’d find a way through.
But love built on broken promises was never going to last.
And the illusion holding us together… it shattered the moment I watched my brother fall.
“But then, in the middle of all the rage and confusion, I saw you, Matteo. I saw you in the cabin, coming for me—fear etched across your face. I saw the man who would do anything to save me. And for a moment… I wanted to believe that was enough. That despite everything, despite the pain, I still loved you. That I could still believe in us. In that moment—so close to death—it wasn’t dying that terrified me. It was the thought of letting go of you. Of waking up in a world without you in it.”
I shake my head slightly, the ache in my chest tightening. “But love isn’t supposed to feel like this—like a wound that never heals. And every time I look at you, I see what I lost. Loving you feels like betraying him… like turning my back on my brother. Like every beat of my heart for you erases a piece of him—and the memory I’m still trying to protect.”
My voice falters, the rest of the words lodged painfully in my throat.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t reach for me. He just stands there—still, silent—like he knows that any wrong move might break me completely. And somehow, that silence gives me the space I didn’t even know I needed.
“Over the past few months, I’ve come to know you—your character, the kind of man you are. And that man doesn’t shoot innocent people in cold blood. You’re not perfect. You live in the gray, and sometimes you make impossible choices… You protect what’s yours. You act when you’re cornered. And maybe that’s why it hurts so much—because deep down, I still believe you’re not the villain in this story.”
His expression shifts—something flickers in his eyes, raw and unspoken—but it’s quickly replaced by a deep sadness that makes my heart ache.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me, as if trying to process what I’ve said.
“I shouldn’t want to still be with you. In fact, I should run for the hills and never look back. That would be the safest option—the only logical answer for me. And yet… somewhere along the way, against every ounce of reason, I fell in love with you, Matteo,” I whisper, my fingers curling around his. “But love isn’t always enough. Not when it’s built on pain. Not when it costs me pieces of myself.”
I gently pull my hand from his, the ache rising in my throat.
“I love you… but I can’t stay—not right now. Maybe not ever. Because if I stay, I’m choosing you over the part of me that’s still grieving him. And I don’t know how to live with that.”
His eyes shine, the emotion in them breaking something inside me. He leans forward, presses a kiss to my forehead—soft, reverent, like goodbye.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with regret.
We hold each other’s gaze, a thousand words spoken in silence.
And for one final, fleeting moment—I wish things had been different.
But love alone won’t carry us through this storm.
Not this time.
But just as the silence settles between us, my thoughts shift—and a sudden panic grips me. “Daniele,” I whisper, breaking the fragile stillness. “How is he?”
The weight of Daniele’s fate crushes me in a way I can’t fully grasp. His apology, his regret—it feels like a final breath he’ll never get to exhale.
And the man who should be at his side… is here, with me.
I want to push him away, to make him feel the guilt I carry for still loving him despite everything.
But I don’t. Not yet.
Because my heart aches for the son he’s about to lose—and some part of me still needs to hold on, if only long enough to survive this moment.
Matteo’s face tightens, and I see the anguish in his eyes before he speaks.
“He’s on life support, Maria. There’s little to no brain function. The doctors… they don’t think he’s going to make it.”
The room goes still.
The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
For all he did, in the end, he found his redemption. He tried to correct the mistakes he had made.
I squeeze Matteo’s hand, my chest tightening with grief—grief for Daniele, yes, but also for the man I love, who is shattering before me.
“I’m sorry, Matteo. I’m so sorry.”
I open my arms to him, and he lets me pull him into a warm embrace.
Nothing will ever soothe this kind of heaviness—but I will do whatever it takes to make sure he never feels alone.
“In the end, he was sorry—for how everything played out. He loved you with everything he had, and he wanted to get me to safety… to make up for the wrong he’d allowed.”
Matteo stares at me, his face caught between deep sorrow and acceptance—like he’s already mourning the loss of the son he tried so hard to protect. His eyes hold a pain so raw, so real, that it twists in my chest. He’s not just losing Daniele—he’s losing the future they both fought for.
I can see the heaviness in his gaze—the quiet desperation to be there for Daniele in his final moments.
And I know what he needs to do.
“Go to him,” I say quietly, urging him. “Go be with your son. I’ll be okay here for now.”
He looks at me, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. But I know he has to be with Daniele. He has to say goodbye—and we don’t know how much time he has left to do that.
“Here. Take my phone,” Matteo says, his voice shaking as he hands it to me. “Call your parents. They’ve been worried about you, and I promised them you’d call as soon as you woke up. They were set to land in two days.”
I nod, trying to keep myself composed. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him and make him hesitate.
He needs to go. He needs to be with his son.
After Matteo leaves, I stare down at the screen—my mother’s number already open, waiting for me to dial.
I let my fingers hover above the phone, frozen.
My hands tremble as I lift the phone to my ear. The room is quiet, sterile. A faint beeping from the monitors is the only sound as I sit curled on the hospital bed, wrapped in a blanket that doesn’t quite chase away the cold.
The phone rings three times before my mother answers. “Maria? Dios mío—are you all right?”
“I’m okay, Mamá,” I whisper. The lie tastes like ash on my tongue. I wish I could believe it.
“I just wanted to tell you… I’m coming home.”
There’s a long pause. I can almost hear her heart pounding through the silence.
“We’ve been so worried, Maria. We’ve missed you so much.”
“I know, Mamá.”
“When will you be here?”
“Soon,” I say softly. “There are just a few things I need to do first.”
I don’t explain. I can’t. There’s too much she wouldn’t understand—too much even I don’t.
Matteo is losing his son. And for everything that’s happened between us, I can’t walk away. Not yet. So I’ll stay beside him through this. I’ll help him say goodbye. I’ll be his strength—until he no longer needs mine.
And then… I’ll leave.
Not because I stopped loving him—
But because sometimes love isn’t enough to survive what’s been lost.
