Chapter 221
Aria’s Pov
POV: Aria
I watched him fall apart before he realized he was doing it.
Matteo didn’t make noise when he hurt. He didn’t scream. He didn’t shout. He broke things in silence. Tore through drawers. Shattered glass with his hands. Let the blood speak instead of his mouth. That was how I knew it was bad.
It shook something in me, seeing him like that.
He wasn’t made of stone. Not really. I’d known that since the night he bled into my palm, whispering orders like they could hold him together. But this tonight he wasn’t just bleeding. He was burning from the inside out.
And I didn’t know if I could stop it.
I’d never seen his hands shake before. Not like that. Not Matteo. Not the man who could stare death in the eye and make it blink. I stood there for too long before I said anything, afraid that if I touched him too soon, he’d turn to ash.
But I touched him anyway.
I held his hand. I wiped the blood from his knuckles. I didn’t tell him it would be okay. I didn’t lie. I just stayed there. Close. Breathing the same air. Feeling the same silence press in around us like the walls themselves were grieving.
Everything about this war had started with me.
And now it was taking everything from him too.
If I hadn’t run. If I hadn’t lied. If I hadn’t dragged my ghosts into his world, maybe Luca would still be alive. Maybe Matteo wouldn’t be breaking things just to feel something.
And still… he didn’t push me away.
Not when I touched his face. Not when I leaned my forehead to his. Not even when my voice cracked.
You’re still breathing, I told him. So fight like someone who’s alive.
I hope he heard me.
Later, Enzo found me in the hallway. He had that look he always wore when he was trying to hide the fact that he was worried. He was bleeding too, just a little at the temple. Bandaged. Tired.
“You should rest,” he said, voice low.
I nodded. I pressed a soft kiss to Matteo’s cheek before I left the office. He didn’t say anything. But his shoulders dipped just a little, like the storm inside him had lost one gust of wind.
I didn’t say goodbye. I just walked upstairs, holding the railing tighter than I wanted to admit.
My body still ached. The wounds were healing, but slowly. I wasn’t as strong as I used to be. Not yet. But I made it to the second floor on my own, one step at a time. I paused in the hall, outside a door that had been half open since the day we got back.
Chiara’s room.
I didn’t knock.
She wasn’t crying again. That was something.
1/3
Chapter 221
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colors. She looked over when she saw the, and something like relief paved arote hey fave.
“You look like a ghost,” she said gently.
“You look like ven’re getting better at hiding your crying.”
She smiled, just a little.
She stood up and walked toward me. Wordless. Light steps on the rug. She slipped her arm around my waist lite she’d done it a hundred times before and helped me toward the bed.
“Come on,” she murmured. “I’ll make room.”
I sank onto the mattress slowly, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She pulled the blanket over both of us and climbed hark it heside me.
“What movie is this?” I asked softly.
“My Neighbor Totoro,” she said. “It’s kind of weird but nice. Like nothing bad happens. It’s just quiet. Just… soft.”
I looked at the screen. There was a big gray creature holding an umbrella. The wind was blowing but nothing scary was coming, Just trees, clouds, the sound of rain.
“I could use a little soft right now,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Chiara said, voice fading into a yawn. “Me too.”
She leaned into me, settling her head on my lap like it belonged there. Like maybe I was her soft place now, even with all my own jagged edges.
I ran my fingers through her hair gently. Slow. Careful.
“I’m hurting,” she whispered, like it took everything in her to say it out loud.
I touched her cheek. Brushed my thumb beneath her eye.
“I know,” I whispered. “Me too.”
She didn’t cry. Neither did I.
The movie kept playing. Somewhere in the distance, I could still hear the ocean slamming into the shore. The island had always felt like a cage. Now it felt like a bruise we all lived inside of.
But in this room, just for a little while, the war stayed quiet,
And I let myself breathe again.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what survival really looks like not the loud dramatic kind you see in stories but this quiet aching kind where you sit beside someone else who’s also broken and neither of you says the right thing but you still stay anyway and somehow that staying matters more than anything else used to think strength looked like standing tall keeping your hands steady keeping your heart locked away where no one could touch it but lately I think it looks like letting your guard down when it feels impossible letting someone lean on you even when your ribs still hurt from the last time you fell it’s in the way Chiara doesn’t ask me to be perfect she just rests her head on my lap and trusts me to hold her and it’s in the way Matteo didn’t say a word when I kissed his cheek but I felt him breathe a little easier after like maybe for just one second he remembered that he’s still human still allowed to feel something other than rage I don’t know what happens next or how we crawl out from under all of this but tonight there’s a movie playing and a girl beside me who still believes in soft things and for now Ifthink that might be enough
