With my arm linked with my father's, I scan the faces of the guests. There are, of course, my sisters and Pietro, Adriano with his family whom I've only seen in photos, and several of our former seasonal workers from long ago. I spot Maria, the owner of the specialty shop, and Michele, the owner of the restaurant where we're celebrating tonight. Behind him stand our neighbors and a dozen men around my father's age whom I don't know. They must be friends from the past, maybe from school. Their faces barely register in my vision. In truth, I barely see them, as I am only searching for one person: Hanna.
She had said she would call me so I could pick her up from the hospital, but my phone hasn't rung all afternoon. And I haven't dared to reach out to her; after all, I've already made enough mistakes.
Over there, next to a tall jasmine shrub, I find her. A few white blossoms have become entwined in her dark hair. She gazes into the distance, but today, I cannot discern the dreaminess that usually fills her expression.
She appears lost, as if she doesn't know why she's here.
Keeping her in my sights, I guide my father over to Camilla. "Here we are," I say, pretending to wipe sweat from myforehead, as if the effort of bringing him here has taken a toll on me.
Immediately, my sister embraces him. "It's so wonderful to have you here. We are all very happy," she says, looking at me over his shoulder. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
I nod at her and then turn away. Not only because of the fear brewing inside me, that this celebration could ultimately push my father deeper into his dark pit, but also because of Hanna.
And the way she's currently talking to Alessia. They're laughing together, and Hanna places her hand on Alessia's arm. They look like friends, and anyone would believe they're having a great time together.
But even from here, I can tell that's not the case. There's a heaviness in Hanna's eyes that her forced smile can't conceal. Alessia seems oblivious, chatting nonstop, laughing, and making funny faces.
Perhaps she's just sad about leaving us soon. More than once, I noticed how much she's fallen in love with the authenticity of the estate. Initially, she spoke about her renovation plans, but lately, she's been talking only about how to preserve our family traditions. The way she interacts so intimately with my sisters makes it seem as if she's already become part of this family in such a short time. Yes, that could be the reason for her sadness.
Or perhaps her smile is strained because she is deeply disappointed in me. We both know that her accident would never have happened if I hadn't encouraged her to step out of her safe shell. I need to talk to her about it, apologize again, and see if there's any way to make amends.
Swallowing hard, I march toward them. "Hello." My voice sounds hoarse.
Instantly, the two fall silent, and Alessia takes a sip of the red wine in her hand. "Oh, look, there's Laura over there. Haven't seen her in ages," she says, shooting me a meaningful look. "Beright back," she chirps and dashes off, her hair flowing behind her.
I briefly watch her go before turning my attention to Hanna. She immediately lowers her gaze.
I know it's my turn to say something, but I struggle to find the right words. Nervously, I shift from one foot to the other. "I'm so sorry."
She raises her hand with a tired smile. "We've already discussed that. There's nothing for you to apologize for. Riding the Vespa was solely my decision. And you were far away from me when I had the accident. You had nothing to do with either."
That's not true. And we both know it. But the way she defends her perspective so vehemently tells me I shouldn't press further.
She attempts another smile. Maybe she's just as unsure of what to say next as I am?
"Florian must have been completely shocked." I have no idea why I bring up the man who is fortunate enough to have Hanna by his side. Maybe to punish myself. Because I couldn't care less about what her boyfriend thinks.
She presses her lips together.
"What happens now?" I don't want to ask this question, but I must.
We had four whole days left before our time together in Italy would have ended. Four days during which I wanted to find out what's between us, something that clearly cannot be controlled. And who knows, maybe we would have discovered an entirely new future for ourselves. One where we wake up next to each other every day. One where we live here together and work on the estate.
Despite the fear that overwhelms me just thinking about it, I also feel the longing for this entirely new life we could lead. One of inner contentment and love.
Suddenly, she looks at me. There's pleading in her eyes. "I don't know."
The cheerful music starts playing beside us, and some guests joyfully dance. "Will you stay?" I ask, my voice strained.
"I don't know." Her forehead seems to consist of nothing but wrinkles.
I can't help it; I have to approach her. "What's wrong, Hanna? Something's not right, I can tell. And if you're not angry with me about the accident, as you've said, something else must be troubling you. Please, tell me."
