He's right there. Three chairs away. And he might as well be on another planet.
By day three, I stop expecting anything different.
Breakfast. Lunch. The occasional dinner when Bruno bothers to show up. He sits. He eats. He leaves.
Not a single word directed at me.
I tell myself it doesn't matter.
But something about the silence stings.
We had a moment. At the party.
I thought maybe...
It doesn't matter what I thought.
Bruno has made his position clear. Whatever crack appeared in his walls that night, he's sealed it shut.
I am furniture again. Something in the room. Not someone.
The silence becomes routine.
I learn the rhythm of this house. Breakfast at nine.
I learn which hallways lead where. Which doors stay locked. Which guards nod when I pass and which ones pretend I don't exist.
I learn that Kristen takes Lily to the garden every afternoon at three. That Pietro works late most nights.
I learn that my husband wants nothing to do with me.
Fine.
I have other concerns.
On the fourth day, I call home.
Gianna answers on the second ring. "Nella! I was just thinking about you."
"Good thoughts, I hope."
"Always." She pauses. "Are you okay? You sound tired."
"I'm fine." The lie comes easy now. "Is Papa there? I need to talk to him about something."
Silence stretches across the line.
"Gianna?"
"He's not here."
My stomach tightens. "Where is he?"
"I don't know. Claudio might. Hold on."
I hear muffled voices. Footsteps. Then Claudio's voice replaces Gianna's.
"Nella."
