A Fragile Thread

Chapter 11: Burdens

POV: Emilia

The day passed in a blur of uneasy calm. I'd spent most of it in my room, avoiding the weight of their stares and the suffocating feeling that came with being under constant watch. I wanted to pretend I was fine—to make them think I was fine. They didn't need to worry about me more than they already did.

But something was wrong.

My arm throbbed under the cast, a dull, relentless ache that hadn't been there before. At first, I thought it was just healing pains, the kind that came and went, but the discomfort had grown sharper, deeper, twisting into something I couldn't ignore.

The skin around the edge of the cast had started to turn red a few days ago, but now it was angry and swollen, the heat radiating from it making me feel sick. I knew it wasn't normal. I knew I should say something.

But I didn't.

I couldn't bring myself to.

They'd already done so much—more than anyone ever had for me. The last thing I wanted was to add to their stress, to make them regret bringing me here.

So, I kept quiet.

The hours crawled by, the pain growing worse with every passing minute. By the time evening fell, I was struggling to move my arm without wincing, the feverish heat making my head spin. I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching my good hand over the bad arm, trying to steady my breathing.

I could hear them downstairs, their voices low and steady as they talked about something I couldn't make out. Part of me wanted to go to them, to ask for help, but the fear of being a burden rooted me in place.

A knock at the door startled me, and I quickly pulled the blanket over my arm, trying to look as normal as possible.

"Emilia?" Matteo's voice came through, soft and warm. "Can I come in, sweetheart?"

I hesitated, panic flaring in my chest. "Y-Yeah," I managed, my voice shaking.

The door opened, and Matteo stepped inside, his usual gentle smile on his face. "Hey," he said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "We're all heading to the living room for a movie night. Thought you might want to join us."

"I-I'm okay," I said quickly, shaking my head. "You guys go ahead."

He frowned, tilting his head as he studied me. "You sure? It could be fun. You don't even have to watch the movie if you don't want to—just sit with us. No pressure."

"I'm fine," I insisted, my voice sharper than I meant. The guilt hit immediately, and I looked down, my hands twisting in my lap. "Sorry," I muttered.

Matteo's gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against my shoulder. "Don't apologize, dolcezza. I just wanted to check on you." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay?"

My heart jumped, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me. "I'm fine," I lied, forcing a small smile. "Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he nodded slowly, standing up and giving me one last look. "Alright. If you need anything, you know where to find me, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, relief flooding through me as he left the room.

As soon as the door closed, I let out a shaky breath, pulling the blanket away to look at my arm. The redness had spread, the skin hot to the touch and slightly swollen. I bit my lip, trying to fight back the rising panic.

I'd deal with it myself. I had to.

But deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before they found out.