Bless him, he’s still trying.
“It’s adequate for my purposes,” comes the short reply.
God, this is so bad I want to scream.
I also want to intervene, to tell her she’s going too far, but I know it would only make things worse.
This is something she needs to work through, even if watching it feels like witnessing a slow-motion car crash.
The conversation continues this way throughout the first course.
Matteo asking gentle questions about her life, Bianca responding with the minimum courtesy required while avoiding any trace of warmth or familiarity.
She addresses him as “Matteo” consistently, never once slipping into the “Dad” that had been natural for her whole life.
Each time she says his name instead of “Dad,” I see his eyes tighten.
It’s like she’s driving a knife deeper with every word.
“Banca!” Arianna calls out from her high chair, reaching toward her with sauce-covered fingers. “Banca, up!”
For just a moment, I see something soften in Bianca’s expression as she looks at her niece—or rather, what she now knows is her niece rather than her sister.
But instead of the warm response Arianna is used to, Bianca simply nods politely.
“Hello, Arianna. You’re certainly messy.”
The formal tone confuses the toddler, who tilts her head and tries again. “Banca play?”
“Perhaps another time,” Bianca replies, turning her attention back to her plate.
Fuck. I watch Arianna’s face crumple slightly with confusion, and my heart breaks for this innocent child who doesn’t understand why her beloved “Banca” is suddenly treating her like a stranger.
Bella’s face falls at the rejection, and I watch Matteo’s hands still on his silverware.
Giovanni, sensing the tension even at eighteen months old, grows quiet and stares at Bianca with wide eyes.
“The children have missed you,” Bella says softly, trying to bridge the growing distance. “They keep asking for you. I know they want to know when you’re coming home.”
“This isn’t my home anymore,” Bianca responds in a clipped tone. “I have my own place now. More appropriate for someone of my age and circumstances.”
Her words have their intended effect.
Bella’s eyes fill with tears and Matteo stills.
Even the staff moving around the dining room seem to sense the tension, their movements becoming more cautious.
Each word is carefully chosen to cut, to establish distance, to reject the family bonds that Matteo is desperately trying to maintain.
She’s not shouting or throwing accusations—she’s doing something much more cruel.
She’s treating them like strangers.
“Bianca,” Matteo says quietly, and there’s a note of pleading in his voice that makes me want to flee. “Please. Whatever anger you’re carrying, don’t take it out on Bella and the children. They love you.”
“Love requires honesty, doesn’t it?” Bianca looks directly at him for the first time all evening. “And since honesty has been in suchshortsupply in this family, perhaps it’s better to maintain appropriate boundaries.”
Goddamn, this doesn’t even sound like her.
