No one used yellow lights before her.
I press my head against the wall.
She’s still here. Inside Bruno’s room. Sleeping in his bed. I only have to cross the wall separating us, and I’ll see her.
Antonio sits beside me.
“Go to her.”
I look at him. “She’ll hate me when I kill her uncle.”
He sighs. “Look at yourself, Salvario. You look no better than a dead man to me. You’re neither working on your revenge nor living your life.”
“When have I ever lived my life in twenty-five years, Antonio?” I mutter, turning my eyes to the light on the floor.
“There’s a difference now. You know how to live, and yet you choose the suffering. Forget the revenge for a while. What will you do, clinging to it, when you’re no longer in any state to do anything about it?”
“You know I can’t forget the revenge. It’s not possible,” I whisper tiredly.
Silence falls between us.
Antonio places a hand on my shoulder. “Find a way, son. She won’t wait forever.”
He rises after delivering those burning words.
It’s true. She won’t wait forever. There are countless men so much fucking better than me, why would she wait for someone like me?
But I want her to.
I want her to love me.
And only me.
I clench my fist. There’s only one thing standing between her and me. I can’t let it stay—can’t let it steal the life I could have with her.
I rise from the floor, resolve solidifying in my chest.
“I won’t kill Alexander. I’m letting go of revenge.”
The words fill my head with a peace I've never felt.
Antonio turns, a smile slowly forming on his face.
But the peace doesn’t last. Not even a minute.
Chaos explodes behind my open eyes. The boy seizes every sense and hurls me into the pit of memory.
Antonio
“I won’t kill Alexander. I’m letting go of revenge.”
He speaks in a voice I know too well. I’ve heard it promise destruction—and carrying it out—for over a decade.
I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d witness him truly living. Alba will finally find peace, seeing her son walk away from destruction. She was a kind-hearted woman; she never once hurt anyone. I knew her well enough to be sure: she wouldn’t want her son destroyed by revenge.
I turn to him, see the determination in his eyes. A relieved smile touches my lips, but it doesn’t last.
His gaze loses focus. He stumbles back. I rush to him, but he falls before I can catch him. His eyes are wide, unfocused. Words slur from his mouth—incoherent, broken.
