Emilia Pov
By week three, sunlight came through the clouds for the first time in weeks. The cabin turned into an oven. I took off my sweaty shirt and caught my reflection in a broken mirror.
I stopped breathing.
Was my waist thicker? Were my hips rounder?
"Stop it," I hissed at myself.
But my brain whispered back. Yes. Look closer. You know what this is.
I punched the mirror.
The glass shattered. Blood ran down my knuckles. Red dripped onto the dirty floor.
Linda burst in. "What the hell?!"
"Rat," I said, holding my bleeding hand like it explained anything, like it explained everything.
She looked at me. At the broken glass. At the blood. At my face.
She didn't believe me, of course but she didn't say anything either.
She just got the first aid kit and started bandaging my hand.
We sat in silence. Her working. Me shaking.
Finally, she spoke. "You need to talk about him."
"Who?"
"The guy who's got you breaking mirrors. The guy whose baby might be growing inside you."
I pulled my hand away. "There's nothing to talk about. And for the last time, I'm not pregnant"
"Bullshit." Her voice cracked. "But we are leaving for New York city tomorrow. I'm done enabling this madness. So, pack your shit"
I stood up. The floor groaned. "I'm not going anywhere without him."
Almost made it to the door when she spoke, this time her voice was colder, not really Linda "That's where you are wrong, Baby. We are leaving by dusk tomorrow. You just don't know it yet"
I ignored her and went to sleep.That night, I dreamed of Luca.
We were back in the alley. The red light flickered above us. But instead of pulling me close, he walked away. He stepped into the headlights of a car and started dissolving like smoke. Like he was never real.
"Run," he whispered. "Run and don't look back."
I woke up gasping. My pillow was wet. My face was wet.
I didn't know if I'd been crying in my sleep or if the dream just broke me.
I was cold. The cabin was always cold at night. I grabbed Paolo's old jacket from the corner, the one I'd worn the night I ran. I put it on and something crunched in the pocket.
My heart stopped.
I reached in and pulled out the rose. The one Luca left on my pillow. The one without thorns.
The petals were dry now. Brown and crumbling. But the note was still there, folded small.
Stay safe, Piccolo. – L
Piccolo.
No one had called me that since Paolo died.
I pressed the rose to my chest. My whole body shook. Tears ran down my face and I couldn't stop them.
Why didn't you run? Why didn't you fight? Why did you stay?
Linda found me on the floor. Curled up. Crying. The rose in my fist.
"Emilia..."
"He's dead." My voice didn't sound like mine. "He's dead because of me."
Linda sat down next to me. Her shoulder touched mine. Warm. Solid. Real.
I turned around and looked at her, tears running down my cheek. "Tell me he is dead and I swear to God, I will go with you tomorrow and I will never speak of him again"
"Emilia..." She whispered, running her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Yes. Say it. I mean you are Linda Meyers. Patron saint of hard-ass truth telling even when it's inconvenient. So, if you look me in the eye and told me that he was dead" I looked at her. "If you told me that my father doesn't leave loose ends. That he killed him. I will believe you and I will follow you to New York"
I braced for it. I mean this was Linda. Cold hard truth was what she was known for.
Cold... heartbreaking truth.
And so, I waited.
She moved closer to sit by me and— she wrapped her arms around me, tight.
"Just say it" I whispered and closed my eyes.
"Okay. Here's the truth, then. My only truth" She said and I braced.
I braced for impact.
"I love you, Emilia Anna-Elsa Conti. That's it. That's all I'm sure of" She said. "And what do I know, maybe he is alive. Maybe he is coming for you."
I let out a breath i didn't even know I was holding.
After a long silence, she asked, "What was his name?"
I closed my eyes. I saw his face. His smile. His gold-flecked eyes.
"Luca."
Just saying it hurt. Like pulling out a knife that had been stuck in my chest for weeks.
"Luca," I whispered again, and the tears came harder.
She nodded and held me tighter. "It's time to find out for sure if you are carrying Luca's baby" I cried harder.
"Tomorrow" I choked out. "I can't tonight. Please don't make me"
"Tomorrow, then." Linda nodded.
Sh never let me go. And I never let go of the dried rose.
Because that's all I had left of him. A name. A rose. A memory of one night when someone looked at me like I mattered.
The wind howled outside. The rain started again.