Her eyes go bright. Wet. She blinks rapidly, and I realize she's fighting back tears.
"Yes." Her voice cracks on the word. "Please. I've been going crazy in that room by myself. Pietro tries, but he has work, and I can't expect him to sit with me all day while I complain about crackers making me nauseous."
"Then sit with us." I gesture toward the comfortable chairs by the window. "Gianna was just telling me about everything happening at home. You can listen and pretend you're somewhere other than this compound."
Nora nods. She opens her mouth to respond.
"Nora."
Pietro's voice cuts across the room.
I turn to see him striding toward us. His face is tight with concern, his eyes locked on his wife like she might collapse at any moment.
"What are you doing out of bed?" He reaches her in three long steps and pulls her into his arms. "You should have called me. I would have come to you."
"I needed to move." Nora's voice is muffled against his chest. "I was going insane staring at those walls."
Pietro pulls back just enough to look at her face. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently under her eye.
"Do you need anything? Water? Food? Should I call the doctor?"
"I need people." Nora's voice wavers. "I need to talk to someone who isn't you or the ceiling or my own thoughts."
Pietro's expression softens. He looks at me over Nora's head, and something passes between us. Gratitude, maybe. Understanding.
"Stay with her," he says. "Please. She needs?—"
"I know." I nod. "We're not going anywhere."
Pietro nods. He presses a kiss to Nora's forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, then releases her.
"I'll be in my office if you need anything." His eyes move to me. "Thank you, Antonella."
"Of course."
He leaves. His footsteps echo down the hallway, fading until the library falls silent again.
Gianna waits approximately three seconds before pouncing.
"So how did you two meet?" She bounces on her heels, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. "You and Pietro, I mean. Was it romantic? Did he sweep you off your feet? Oh my God, was there a proposal? Tell me there was a proposal."
Nora blinks at the rapid-fire questions. She looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"She's enthusiastic about love stories," I explain.
"I can see that."
"I believe in true love," Gianna says firmly. "And soulmates. And happily ever afters. Antonella thinks I'm naive, but I don't care. Romance is real and beautiful and I want to hear every detail."
I don't think she's naive.
I think she's hopeful in a way I've forgotten how to be. She still believes in fairy tales, in princes and princesses and love conquering all. The world hasn't beaten that out of her yet.
I love her for it.
I hope nothing ever changes that.
Nora studies my sister with an expression I can't quite read. Something soft crosses her face. Something almost wistful.
