From where I stood on the terrace, looking down at the garden, Valentina and Clara playing together felt like a scene stolen from a distant dream—an alternate life I didn’t fully belong to.
Clara’s laughter filled the air, bright and effortless, the kind of joy that used to be foreign to me. It was becoming more common now—showing up in my days like sunlight I hadn’t earned.
Valentina was smiling.
A real smile. Open. Unguarded in a way I rarely saw when I was near her. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a light dress that moved with the breeze.
The simplicity of it hit me harder than any boardroom confrontation ever had.
Happiness and grief rose together in my chest—twin blades.
Because all I could think was how much time I’d lost.
How the first years of my daughter’s life—those irreplaceable moments—could never truly be recovered. Regret burned deep, sharp and constant, like a wound that refused to close.
A small cry snapped me out of my thoughts.
Clara had tripped mid-run and fallen onto the grass with a frightened, high sob.
Valentina dropped to her knees instantly, hands gentle and quick, murmuring soft reassurances. I didn’t think.
I was moving before my mind caught up.
I took the steps down two at a time, crossed the lawn with long strides, and knelt beside them, careful not to overwhelm, careful not to steal the moment from Valentina.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
Clara looked at me with watery eyes, breathing too fast, still startled.
“It hurt, Uncle Enrico,” she sniffled, holding up her knee—red and scraped.
Something tightened painfully inside my chest.
A protective instinct—deep, automatic—flared to life in me before I even understood it was there.
With a gentleness I didn’t know I had, I took her small knee carefully, checking for anything more serious, brushing dirt away with my fingertips.
“It doesn’t look too bad, princess,” I murmured.
Valentina watched every movement, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t pull Clara away. Clara watched me too, her sobs slowly easing as I stayed calm and steady.
“How about we put a really cool bandage on it?” I offered, lifting my eyes to Clara. “One of the fun ones.”
She nodded slowly, trusting me—timidly, cautiously.
And when I glanced at Valentina, she gave the smallest silent agreement.
In that moment, something moved through me that I’d never experienced before.
It felt like a dormant part of me had finally woken up—reminding me of the person I could have been.
The father I still had a chance to become.
When I helped Clara to her feet, my eyes met Valentina’s briefly.
There was something in that look—something deep and sharp and far beyond words.
And for one dangerous second I understood with brutal clarity:
