I lean down to see.
The initials are faded but still visible.
Two letters intertwined with a heart around them.
I look at it curiously and wonder myself what it means.
This is Dante's private villa, but from what I can tell, it was likely his father's before him, and maybe his grandfather's before that.
"Who do you think they were?" Sofia asks.
"I don't know," Dante says.
"Maybe two people who loved each other a long time ago."
"That's so sweet," Sofia says.
She looks up at him. "Do you believe in true love?"
Dante looks at me and then back at Sofia.
"I believe in protecting the people who are important to you."
"That's not the same," Sofia says.
"You're right,Piccola."
He tousles her hair, and she scowls then shrugs and runs off to explore another part of the garden.
I watch her for a long moment and wonder if I have an answer for her that would satisfy her.
Love is a tricky thing, not something you choose, but something that springs upon you like the first rays of light in the morning.
You don't create it, but by it, you see clearly.
That thought warms my heart, and Dante clears his throat as if trying to get my attention.
We sit down on the bench and I sigh softly.
"She's getting attached to you," I say.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Why?"
"Because if we leave, it'll break her heart. And if we stay, she grows up in a world where violence is normal. I don’t like the idea of that."
"I'm working on making it safer," he says.
"I'm working on ending this war before Christmas. If I can eliminate the threats, then Sofia won't have to grow up in fear."
"And if you can't?"
I turn to look him in the eye, wondering if he could actually pull it off or if this world will just suck him back in.
He doesn't just kill people.
