Can he see it?
The resemblance is unmistakable to me, but would he recognize himself in their features?
"Your children are beautiful, Elena," Luca says softly, his finger tracing the edge of the frame.
There's genuine warmth in his voice, tinged with something that sounds almost like longing.
"Thank you," I manage, my throat tight.
"The little girl… she has your smile." He studies the photo more closely. "But her eyes…"
I hold my breath, waiting for the recognition, the accusation.
"They're extraordinary," he finishes. "All of them are."
I want to cry out at the injustice of it all.
An injustice that I’m complicit in.
Luca's eyes don't leave mine, and the intensity of his gaze makes me feel exposed, like he can see right through me.
"How long are we going to keep pretending we don't know each other?" His voice is quiet but firm.
I swallow hard, retreating behind the Christmas tree. "We're not pretending anything. We're just… coexisting."
"Coexisting?" He scoffs. "Is that what you call running out of rooms when I enter? Declining invitations to family events when you know I'll be there? Having Dom run interference for you? Fucking hell, even now you’re trying to hide behind the tree. Am I so repulsive?—”
"I don't know what you want from me, Luca." I focus on straightening an ornament that doesn't need straightening.
"I want you to look at me." His voice drops lower. "I've respected your space for a year, Elena. Even though it pisses me off that you think I would betray you or your father."
The raw hurt beneath the anger makes me meet his eyes. For a moment, I see the boy I fell in love with, not the hardened man who returned from Italy.
"I know you didn't—" My throat tightens around the confession.
I know you didn't betray us. I know you're innocent.
But then I think of Gio and the others who are looking for any reason to kill Luca.
Who I wouldn’t put past hurting me or the children if they knew about us.
His eyebrows lift slightly, sensing my hesitation. "You know I didn't what?"
The truth presses against my chest, making it hard to breathe. One truth would lead to another, and another.
The dam would break, and I'd drown us both in years of secrets and regret.
"Elena?" He steps closer, concern replacing anger. His hand lifts, hovering near my cheek but not touching. "What is it?"
I imagine telling him about the kids.
The hope lighting his face.
The joy.
Then the inevitable fury when he realizes how long I've kept them from him.
The war that could break out between the families.
