His hands replace mine on the buttons. He finishes them without a word.
"Thank you." My voice sounds hollow.
Dante nods. His eyes meet mine in the mirror.
"Are you ready?"
I want to laugh. Ready? How can anyone be ready for this?
But I nod.
We head toward the door.
Aria Sartori arrived yesterday from Italy. Valentino came with her. And Carmela, his mother. Aria's sister.
I watched them embrace Sophia in the foyer. Three women. Three generations of loss. Aria lost her son. Sophia lost her husband. Carmela lost a nephew.
They cried together. Held each other. Rocked back and forth like the motion could ease the pain.
I stood in the doorway. Watching.
I couldn't help.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to do something. Say something. Fix something.
But there's nothing to fix. Nothing to say. Nothing I can do that will bring Lorenzo back.
I'm useless here.
The thought has been growing for days. Taking root. Spreading.
I want to leave.
I want to run from this house. From their grief. From the weight of loss that presses down on everyone who walks these halls.
I can't help them. Not really. I can hold Sophia's hand. I can sit beside her while she cries. I can bring her food she won't eat and water she won't drink.
But I can't fix this.
I can't make it better.
And staying here, watching them suffer, watching Sophia break apart piece by piece—it's killing me.
But I can't leave.
Sophia needs me. She said so. Last night. Her hand gripping mine in the dark.
"Don't leave me." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Please. I can't do this alone."
So I stay.
And Dante needs me. Even if he won't say it. Even if he keeps his walls up and his secrets locked away. I see it in the way he reaches for me at night. The way he holds on too tight. The way he watches me like I might disappear.
So I stay for him too.
I need to be strong for everyone.
Even when I feel like I'm drowning too.
