At that moment, Enrico finally lifted his eyes to me, and the expression on his face made my heart stumble clumsily in my chest.
His gaze was loaded with meaning, intimacy, and a vivid, powerful memory of the birthdays we’d shared before everything collapsed between us.
“Your mom really does deserve something special, Clara,” he said, never once taking his eyes off mine.
His voice came out low, rough, and so full of implication that I had to turn my face away immediately, completely affected.
I swallowed hard, feeling the heat deepen as I tried to regain some control over my emotions.
“I really don’t need anything special, Clara,” I murmured, absentmindedly stroking my daughter’s dark hair. “Having you with me is already everything I need.”
Enrico stayed silent for a few more seconds, his eyes still fixed on me with an almost unbearable intensity, before finally turning back to his coffee, a subtle smile forming on his lips.
“Well, on that point your mom is right, Clara,” he said calmly, though I could hear the teasing edge in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something special for her too.”
He winked at Clara, who immediately clapped her hands, thrilled by the idea.
And I realized, in silence, that I was completely lost—because it took only those few words for the expectation I’d been bragging, just a minute earlier, about not having created to bloom inside my chest.
Huge.
Fully formed.
Ready to live on its own.
***
My breathing was still uneven, my body trembling and sated as Enrico remained over me, inside me, his forehead resting against mine while we tried to regain some control over our bodies, still lost in bliss.
He lifted his face, his dark, deep eyes locked onto mine, filled with a satisfaction and tenderness so intense that my chest tightened painfully.
“I love being inside you like this—without barriers,” he murmured hoarsely, caressing my face.
My body pulsed around him in response, and Enrico laughed softly, still not moving, as if he wanted to stretch that moment for as long as possible.
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning as I bit my lower lip to keep from saying that I felt exactly the same. It was impossible to deny how much I loved that feeling too—our physical connection completely free, total, absolute.
Bless the IUD I’d had placed shortly after Clara was born—even though, for all those years, it had never actually been necessary as contraception.
Not until that moment.
Not until Enrico had returned to my life with a force so overwhelming that I had no physical resistance left.
Throughout all those years, the only touch my body had known was my own. At first, not even that.
First, because I was too lost to think about anything beyond emotional survival. Then, because the hurt and resentment were too deep to allow me to open my body and my heart to someone else again.
And finally, because it simply didn’t make sense.
I had never been the kind of woman who sought casual pleasure. What I wanted—what I had always wanted—was love.
Kisses after the climax. Bodies tangled until sleep came. Silly laughter. Whispered conversations. A specific scent that made me feel at home.
So as Enrico looked at me that way—so intimate and vulnerable—his lips occasionally brushing my skin, his eyes saying everything his heart felt, I suddenly realized, terrified, that this was exactly what was happening.
My heart began to race with sudden anxiety.
I gently pushed his chest, easing him away as he frowned in surprise.
