Emily's POV
I was not even done settling in when the door burst open.
"Emilyyy!" Sophia squealed, her tiny feet pounding against the floor as she ran straight into my room. "I'm back!"
Before I could react, she threw herself into my arms, wrapping herself around me like she had been gone for months instead of a few hours.
"Hey there, princess," I said softly, hugging her back, inhaling the faint scent of crayons and baby shampoo that clung to her. "How are you? How was school?"
"School was alright," she said, climbing onto my bed and kicking her legs happily. "But I missed papa."
Something tugged painfully in my chest.
"Aww," I murmured, brushing her hair back gently. "I'm sure papa missed you too. But he has to work so he can buy you lots of dolls and princess clothes."
Her eyes lit up instantly. "And a castle?"
I laughed. "Especially a castle."
That seemed to satisfy her.
I led her downstairs so she could have her lunch, keeping my tone light even though my thoughts felt anything but. The house felt quieter without Matteo. Bigger. Heavier. Like it was holding secrets in its walls.
I was rinsing vegetables when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
For a second, my heart skipped. Stacy's face flashed in my mind, her smile sharp and knowing. I wiped my hands on a towel and answered on the third ring.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Emilyyy," a familiar whining voice sang. "I can't believe you left London without telling me. I came to visit today only to find out you had moved."
My lips curved into a genuine smile. "Good afternoon to you too, Eve."
"My own twin sister abandons me for another country, and this is the greeting I get?"
"Oh please," I laughed. "You're never alone with that golden retriever husband of yours."
She huffed. "Roman is not a golden retriever."
"He absolutely is," I said. "How is he?"
"He's fine. At work. Always working." She paused. "Stop changing the topic, Emily. You said you were just visiting Italy to see Andrew. You did not say you were moving your entire life to Milan."
"I'm guessing you called Andrew and he ran his mouth," I said knowingly.
A beat.
"…Maybe."
I shook my head, smiling. "Of course he did."
"We're not talking about Andrew right now," she pressed. "We're talking about how you abandoned me. What happened to the twin bond?"
"Abandoned you?" I scoffed. "You got married and disappeared first."
"That was different."
"How?"
"I invited you to the wedding."
I laughed softly. "Fair."
She sighed dramatically. "So tell me. What are you really doing in Italy?"
I hesitated.
I stared down at the cutting board, my fingers tightening around the knife. I had rehearsed so many answers for this question. None of them felt safe enough to say out loud.
"I just wanted a change of scenery," I said finally.
She snorted. "Emily. You hate change. And Italy? Of all places? The same place dad ran off to with his mistress?" Her voice sharpened. "It's not a coincidence. Spill."
My shoulders sagged.
"Okay," I admitted quietly. "I came to Italy to find dad."
There was silence on the line.
"No," she said slowly. "I refuse to believe this."
"I just want answers, Eve," I said, my throat tightening. "I want him to look me in the eye and explain why he left his wife and two toddlers behind. Why he vanished and never looked back."
She exhaled heavily. "Emily… if he wanted to be found, he would have reached out."
"I know," I whispered. "But knowing that doesn't stop me from needing to hear it."
Before she could respond, a small voice chimed in brightly.
"Emily, look! I'm a fairy!"
I turned to see Sophia standing proudly in the kitchen doorway, wearing a sparkly fairy costume that was far too big for her, wings crooked and glitter already dusting the floor.
"Oh wow," I said softly. "You're the most beautiful fairy I've ever seen."
"Hold on," Evelyn said sharply. "Was that a child?"
I froze.
"Tell me you did not give birth without informing me," she shrieked.
I burst out laughing. "Eve, think."
"Italy changes people!"
"You saw me at your anniversary party three months ago," I said between laughter. "Unless I discovered time travel, that's impossible."
"…Right," she muttered. "I didn't think that through."
"So who's the kid?" she asked.
"My boss's daughter," I said, dropping the vegetables into boiling water. "I got hired as a nanny."
"Oh," she said, relieved. "That makes sense."
"Does it?"
"Compared to secret childbirth? Yes."
I laughed again.
"I have to go," she said. "Beautician appointment. Please don't traumatize me like this again."
"I'll try."
"Love you," she added softly.
"Love you too, little sis" I replied.
"It's just seven minutes," she teased.
"Still counts," I shot back.
When the call ended, I realized how much lighter my chest felt. Even briefly, she had pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.
"Okay, principessa," I said, plating the spaghetti. "Where do you want to eat? Here or the living room?"
"The living room!" Sophia chirped. "Can we watch Moana?"
I smiled despite myself. We had watched it more times than I could count, but I nodded anyway.
"Yes, darling. Moana again."
She cheered.
We settled onto the couch, the lights dimmed, the massive television filling the room with color. Sophia curled against my side, humming along as she ate, her small body warm and trusting.
I wrapped an arm around her instinctively.
How could anyone hurt something so innocent?
The thought made my chest ache.
As the movie played, her chewing slowed. Her eyelids fluttered. Eventually, she slumped fully against me, fast asleep, her fairy wings digging into my side.
I did not move.
I let the movie continue, the sound low, the room quiet except for her breathing.
Holding her there, I realized something terrifying.
I was already attached.
And that made everything so much more dangerous
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Matteo's pov
The front door closed softly behind me.
The house greeted me with silence at first, the familiar stillness of a place too large for the people living in it. I loosened my tie, exhaling as the weight of the day settled into my shoulders. Meetings. Contracts. Faces that expected strength and certainty when all I felt was exhaustion.
Then I heard it.
Soft music.
Faint. Almost hesitant.
Moana.
I stilled, listening. The sound drifted from the living room, low enough to be considerate, gentle enough to be intentional. Something about it tugged at my chest in a way I was not prepared for.
I followed the sound.
The living room lights were dimmed, the television casting a soft glow across the space. On the rug beside the couch, Emily and Sophia were asleep.
Not neatly. Not carefully arranged.
Just… slumped.
Sophia was curled into Emily's side, one small hand fisted in the fabric of her top. Emily's head had fallen back against the edge of the couch, her arm wrapped loosely around Sophia, as if sleep had claimed her mid duty.
Two plates sat forgotten beside them, pasta half eaten, forks abandoned where small hands and tired ones had let go.
My steps slowed.
I stood there longer than I intended to, taking them in. Sophia's face was relaxed, her mouth slightly open, lashes resting against her cheeks. She looked peaceful in a way that still startled me every time I saw it.
Emily looked exhausted.
Not the surface level tiredness people complained about, but the kind that lived deeper, in the bones. And yet even in sleep, she had not let go of my daughter.
Something tight coiled in my chest.
I moved quietly, lifting the plates first, careful not to let them clink. I carried them into the kitchen, rinsed them, and stacked them neatly. A small, ordinary task. One that grounded me more than I expected.
When I returned, the television was still playing softly.
I picked up the remote and turned it off. The room fell into silence except for their breathing.
Emily shifted slightly, murmuring something under her breath. Sophia pressed closer to her instinctively.
I reached for the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and unfolded it slowly, draping it over them both. I adjusted it around Sophia first, then Emily, tucking it gently so they would not wake from the cold.
For a moment, my hand hovered.
Then I stepped back.
This was not my moment to intrude on.
The memory of last night surfaced without permission.
Her hands on my chest. The warmth of her skin. The way she had pulled away not because she wanted to, but because she understood what I was losing control of.
I clenched my jaw.
I should not have let it happen. I knew that. I knew it the moment I felt her lips against mine and still did nothing to stop it. Grief had loosened something inside me. Loneliness had widened the cracks.
That was not an excuse.
I turned and left the room quietly, the image of them following me up the stairs whether I wanted it to or not.
In my bedroom, I shut the door and leaned back against it, eyes closed. The day should have ended there. Clean. Controlled.
It did not.
A short while later, I heard it.
Bare feet against the floor.
A door opening.
"Papa."
I opened my eyes just as Sophia appeared in the doorway, clutching her stuffed toy, hair messy from sleep.
I crossed the room in two steps and crouched in front of her. "Hey, principessa."
She wrapped her arms around my neck without hesitation. I lifted her easily, holding her close.
"I woke up," she murmured. "Emily was still sleeping."
"That's okay," I said softly. "You did good."
"She watched Moana with me," Sophia added, her voice drowsy. "Even when she was tired."
I swallowed.
"I know," I said quietly.
"She makes me feel safe," she added, so softly it almost broke me.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. "You are safe," I said firmly. "Always."
She nodded, trusting me completely, and that trust was heavier than any burden I had ever carried.
Sophia yawned, resting her head against my shoulder. I carried her back to her room, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead.
As I turned to leave, she spoke again, half asleep.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"I like Emily."
My chest tightened.
"I know," I said. "Me too."
I left her room and stood in the hallway for a long m
oment, the house silent again.
Emily had not just taken care of my daughter tonight.
She had given her something I could never buy.
And that realization stayed with me long after I lay down, staring at the ceiling, wondering when exactly control had slipped through my fingers.