Minutes passed. Her sobs faded. Her breathing slowed.
Only then did I notice Valentina standing in the hallway, watching us.
Our eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between us—something deep and quiet.
“She’s asleep,” I whispered. “I don’t want to leave her alone yet.”
Valentina nodded.
“Then don’t.”
She came in and sat beside me on the bed.
For the rest of the night, we stayed there—side by side—watching our daughter sleep.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
***
“Look, Uncle Enrico!” Clara pointed excitedly at the ice cream cart parked near the lawn. “Can I have ice cream?”
We were walking through the park, the morning sun soft and warm.
She held my hand, bouncing with excitement.
Valentina walked beside us, quiet, measured—still careful.
I glanced at her before answering.
She nodded.
“Of course, princess.”
As Clara happily ate her ice cream, Valentina’s gaze drifted to a colorful poster announcing a band we used to love.
“Do you remember them?” I asked softly.
Her eyes flicked to the poster.
“Of course,” she said. “They were our favorites.”
Nostalgia hit me hard.
I took a step closer without realizing it.
“Yeah. We never missed a show.”
She looked at me then—really looked.
And for a second, everything felt dangerously close.
“No, Enrico,” she said quietly, stepping back. “Better not.”
She turned to Clara.
The rest of the walk passed in silence.
