"While he was all alone in the bedroom?"
"Well, nothing happened. He's fine," Allegra finally speaks, eyeing the baby in my arms for the first time. I turn to her, only to be struck with such strong disgust as I take in her features—oddly smug and heartless—and the way her body language tells me she couldn't care less about Luca.
"He's not. Why not let Lia watch him if you needed some time alone?" I probe further, incensed that she'd think it's okay to leave a newborn—a premature one at that—alone and unattended.
"Oh, you didn't hear?" She tilts her head to the side, her eyes slightly hooded as if she's trying to feign concern. "She had a family emergency in Italy and she had to leave. I couldn't keep her here. Not when her family needed her more than I did."
"Why wasn't I made aware of this?" What sort of alternate reality did I walk into?
She waves her hand dismissively.
"You know now," she says, and my father interjects at the same time.
"Come on, son, no harm done. Let me take a look at my grandson." He rises from his seat, coming next to me to peer at Luca.
"He takes after you," he comments, and I just grunt, pissed off about everything.
Allegra also stands up, and I offer Luca to her, knowing he loves to feel his mother's warmth. She makes a weird face but awkwardly takes him in her arms.
Just as he's settled against her breast, he wakes up and starts wailing.
"I think he's hungry," I add, and Allegra surprises me by thrusting Luca back into my arms.
"Give him something to eat then."
"What? He needs breast milk, Allegra. From you." I almost roll my eyes at her.
Is this her way of punishing me for my wrongdoings? Because it's definitely working. But she shouldn't involve Luca when this is strictly between us.
"The doctor said my milk wasn't good enough and we should switch to formula," she quips, pouting as her brows go up in professed innocence.
"Really?" I drawl, narrowing my eyes at the two of them.
With Luca still crying in my arms, I head back inside the house, intent on finding some formula to feed him.
And just as I thought—there's none.
What the fuck!
"Shh, little one," I try to coo to him while I dial Nero to get me a lifetime's supply of formula.
Luckily, he's fast, and I'm soon able to feed Luca.
How did this get so screwed up?
I'm holding my two-week-old son as he sucks on his baby bottle, everyone around me completely disinterested—including his mother.
The odd behavior persists, and it's like Allegra can't bring herself to look at Luca. She always finds an excuse to leave the room when she sees me with him.
It's even worse at night, as she'd declared from the very beginning that she's not sleeping in the same room as him because it would upset her sleeping schedule.
I'd stared at her dumbfounded, convinced there was something seriously wrong with her.
Nevertheless, I'd taken Luca to my room and proceeded to feed him every two hours, barely getting any sleep.
At some point, sick of this new attitude of hers, I confronted her, only to be met with soft, derisive laughter. She'd said I was imagining things.
The internet had been a little more enlightening, and I'd started to believe that maybe she was suffering from postpartum depression. Why, with that traumatic event and the subsequent birth, I don't blame her. So I'd decided to give her some breathing room, hoping that at some point she'd come back to us.
