A Fragile Thread

Chapter 10: Small Steps

POV: Emilia

Morning came too soon.

I knew it by the faint light peeking through the curtains, but I didn't want to open my eyes.

My hands ached.

My knees throbbed.

Every tiny movement sent sharp little reminders through my body, and the memories from last night came rushing in like a flood.

The shattering glass.

The blood.

Their voices.

I curled in tighter under the blankets, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I stayed still enough, quiet enough, they'd forget about me.

Just pretend it didn't happen.

But then there was a knock.

Soft. Careful.

"Emilia, tesoro?"

Matteo.

I didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway.

I braced myself for... something. I didn't know what.

Instead, his voice stayed soft.

"Time for breakfast, amore."

I hesitated, heart pounding too fast.

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "The others are waiting."

I swallowed hard, staring at my hands wrapped in soft white bandages.

If I said no, would he be mad?

Would they all be mad?

Would they think I was ungrateful?

The weight of his presence in the doorway felt crushing, even though he hadn't moved closer.

I nodded. Barely.

"Good girl," he said, and for some reason, it made my chest ache.

The dining room was too big.

Too bright.

Too... much.

I took small, careful steps, feeling them all watching me.

Luca. Matteo. Nico. Raffaele.

I kept my eyes down as I took my usual spot at the end of the table.

"Morning, Emilia," Raffaele said, his voice light, like nothing had happened last night.

I didn't answer.

Matteo set a plate in front of me—scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit.

Too much.

I stared at it, stomach twisting.

The smell was overwhelming.

I could feel them watching. Waiting.

I picked up my fork with shaky fingers, the bandages making it awkward.

A small bite.

The eggs tasted like nothing.

Another.

The toast was dry, scratchy against my throat.

Half a strawberry.

My chest felt tight.

I put the fork down.

Couldn't do more.

I stared at the plate, waiting for disappointment, for anger—

But Matteo's voice was gentle.

"You did so well, tesoro."