The psychologist nodded, making quick notes.
“And how has her interaction with you been, Enrico?” she asked, turning her attention to me.
I adjusted in my chair, choosing my words carefully.
“Better than I expected, honestly. Clara has been allowing me into her routine little by little. She still doesn’t know I’m her father, of course, but I feel like she’s starting to trust me.”
Dr. Alice smiled, clearly encouraged.
“That’s excellent. It’s clear you’re building a solid foundation for her. She’s slowly understanding her new family dynamic. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing—you’re on the right path.”
At that, I looked up instinctively—and met Valentina’s gaze at the exact same moment.
The brief eye contact was charged, uncomfortable, heavy with everything left unsaid.
It was obvious that while we were managing things well for Clara, there was still an enormous, immovable barrier between Valentina and me.
A familiar ache tightened in my chest.
The last few weeks had been especially difficult in that regard. Every attempt I made to get closer was met with Valentina’s firm, silent resistance.
Every time she pulled away, it felt like a fresh wound tearing open.
It was absurd—I knew that—but I couldn’t stop it.
Living under the same roof, seeing her every day, seemed to strip away one layer after another of the earth I had piled over the feelings she once awakened in me.
For years, I had convinced myself I had forgotten her. Abandoned her. Moved on.
But seeing her daily, breathing in her scent lingering in my house, hearing her voice, watching the extraordinary mother she was to Clara—those things made clinging to those lies increasingly impossible.
I had never forgotten Valentina.
I could never forget her.
I had only buried my love for her—my desire for her to be mine—under a mountain of resentment, until it was no longer visible, until I could lie to myself and swear I felt nothing.
But they were lies.
Repeated often enough that I almost believed them—but still lies.
I loved that woman.
I wanted that woman.
I desired her.
And I would never have her again, because I did not deserve her.
My days had been flooded with memories of the past—happy moments, small gestures of affection, shared smiles, whispered confidences from a time when Valentina trusted me completely.
The faded memory of the taste of her kiss. The feel of her skin.
I knew what I remembered was probably only a shadow of the real thing. But it was all I had.
Those memories collided constantly with the present reality: Valentina’s emotional distance, her avoidance, the deep hurt etched into her eyes whenever they lingered on me for too long.
“It’s important for you to understand that Clara perceives the dynamic between you,” Dr. Alice continued, pulling me abruptly back to the present. “She feels your emotions, even if she doesn’t fully understand what’s happening. You need to make sure the environment around her remains emotionally safe and stable.”
