Page 39 of Beneath the Shadows

Valentino’s grip on my arm loosens as he looks over my shoulder. “What do you want?” he snaps.

Antonio steps forward. “Is everything alright?” he asks, his tone steady but filled with an undercurrent of concern.

Before Antonio can say more, I step in quickly, forcing a light laugh as I rub my arm. “It’s nothing, really. Just a little misunderstanding—newlywed things, you know.” I offer a playful smile, trying to ease the tension. “Nothing to worry about.”

Antonio looks between Val and me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” I say, my voice a little too cheerful as I meet Antonio’s gaze, silently pleading with him to let it go.

Valentino narrows his eyes at me before turning his attention back to Antonio. “See? No problem. Just a private conversation between husband and wife.”

Antonio’s jaw tightens. “Your mother is in the other room. You don’t want to upset her with your newlywed spat.”

Valentino turns to me, his expression hard. “This isn’t over,” he warns before storming out of the house and slamming the door behind him.

I force a small, dismissive smile, turning to Antonio as if brushing off the tension. “Marriage can be overwhelming. We got a little heated over nothing, really.” I give a small, awkward laugh. “He’ll cool off.”

Antonio doesn’t seem convinced, his eyes studying me carefully. “Alessia...”

“It’s fine,” I cut in, keeping my voice light even though my heart is pounding. “He’ll be fine. “I’m going to say goodbye to Domenica. Will you walk me home after?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

I return to the patio where Domenica is waiting, her expression curious. "What did Valentino want? He seemed upset."

I force another smile. "He came home and wanted to take me out on a date. He got worried when I wasn’t there.”

Her face brightens. "That’s wonderful. He’s been so preoccupied with taking over for his father. I’m glad to see him making time for your relationship.”

I nod, playing along. "Yes, it’s nice to see him making an effort.”

Domenica pats my hand, her eyes filling with hope. "Enjoy your evening, dear.”

"Thank you, Domenica," I say softly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

As I step outside, I find Antonio waiting on the porch. "Ready?" he asks, offering a small, comforting smile.

"Ready," I reply, although the last place I want to go is home.

We take a few steps in silence. The cooling air calms my nerves. I steal a glance at Antonio, my thoughts swirling. Without thinking, I finally break the silence. “Antonio,” I hesitate, then push forward, my voice soft but laced with a question I’ve been carrying for too long. “What happened between us? Why didn’t you go to my father?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as he stares straight ahead. The silence stretches between us. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and filled with something I can’t quite place. “Things changed,” he says, keeping his gaze forward. “You know that.”

“But you didn’t even try,” I whisper. “You just let me go.”

Antonio stops walking, turning to face me. For a moment, there’s a hint of the boy I once loved in his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it fades, replaced by the cold distance that’s become so familiar.

“I realized there wasn’t anything worth fighting for,” he says, his tone harsh and emotionless.

His words are unexpected and hit me like a slap across my face. My chest tightens as I search his face for some sign that he doesn’t mean it—that it’s a lie.

“That’s not true. I don’t believe you,” I say, my voice trembling with hurt.

Antonio’s expression hardens further, his blue eyes locked on mine. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

The pain in my chest twists, and I can’t stop the words from spilling out. “And what about me? What about us? Wasn’t I worth fighting for? Or did I mean so little to you?”

Antonio flinches, just barely, but I catch it before he stiffens, his mask of indifference slipping back into place. His voice hardens as he speaks, his words cruel and deliberate. “I was a stupid kid back then, saying things I didn’t mean. This,” he says, gesturing toward himself, “is the real me.”

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