I glance at her and reply, "Nothing." Cursing myself, I sound panicked, as if I have something to hide. "Just a storage room," I add with a forced smile, hoping she won't enter my mother's room.
That's where she passed away.
Hastily, I guide her to the opposite double door leading to the living room. "This is the largest room in the house," I say with a promising tone and swing open the doors.
"Oh." She freezes like a statue. The clipboard almost slips from her hand.
I follow her gaze and freeze too.
This was our center. The open fireplace, the antique pieces of furniture, and the thick carpets where we used to lie as children while Mother read us fairy tales.
The heavy burgundy curtains we hid behind to avoid brushing our teeth.
The display cabinet with the crystal glasses we secretly sipped from when my sisters forced me to play the prince for them.
None of it exists anymore.
As I see the abandoned seating area covered in plastic, the chandelier draped in cobwebs, and the meager remnants of the ceiling decorations, I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat.
This is in ruins. Nothing is left of the Olivetta family.
At this moment, I know one thing for sure. Even just one day is too much.
I can't do this. I can't walk through this crumbling building and ignore the messages screaming at me from every corner. Maybe my father and my sisters think differently, but they’re wrong.
"You know what? I'll get you a map, and you can explore everything at your own pace," I force out with effort.
She doesn't reply.
I turn my head toward her, and immediately I understand why she's silent. Her expression tells me she's not even here.
She's somewhere else.
Her eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day. I hear her breath flow with a calmness that almost magically transfers to me. Mesmerized, I watch as her lips curve upward more and more.Then she tilts her head, as if she's listening to a melody that exists only within her soul.
I have never seen anything so charming.
Though she doesn't even look at me, she captivates me. She's like a piece of art I want to explore every detail of.
Now she blinks, and moisture clings to her dark lashes.
"Good morning," I whisper, more tenderly than I intended.
