A Fragile Thread

Chapter 11: Burdens

The pain didn't let up. By the time night fell, I couldn't focus on anything else. My arm felt like it was on fire, each throb making my head spin. The edges of my vision blurred as a dull ache settled into my skull, spreading down my spine like waves of heat.

I curled up under the blanket, trying to will it away, but the fever was taking hold. My skin felt too hot and too cold at the same time, and every breath felt shallow and shaky.

It would be fine. It had to be.

I'd just sleep it off. That's what people did with fevers, right?

But sleep didn't come.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt trapped—caught in some suffocating space I couldn't escape from. My chest tightened, my breaths coming quicker, shorter. The air in the room seemed to press down on me, heavy and stifling.

A soft knock at the door broke through my haze.

"Emilia?" It was Luca this time, his deep voice steady and calm but tinged with concern. "It's late. Are you alright?"

I froze, my heart pounding.

What could I say? That I felt like I was falling apart? That I didn't want to be a burden?

The door opened a crack, and Luca stepped inside, his sharp eyes immediately narrowing as he took me in.

"Emilia," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, crouching beside the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy.

"Don't lie to me." His hand reached out, brushing the back of his fingers against my forehead. His expression hardened instantly. "You're burning up."

I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I sank back down, groaning softly.

"Stay here," Luca said, his voice firm but still gentle. "I'll be right back."

He left the room, and I closed my eyes, the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall. My arm throbbed beneath the cast, and I couldn't stop the tears that slipped down my cheeks.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and this time all four of them walked in.

Luca, Matteo, Nico, and Raffaele.

I wanted to sink into the bed and disappear.

"Tesoro," Matteo said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't feeling well?"

"I didn't want to bother you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Bother us?" Nico's voice was sharp, his brows furrowed in frustration. "You're running a fever, Emilia. This isn't something you can just hide."

"Easy, Nico," Matteo said, his hand brushing my hair back. His touch was so careful, so heartbreakingly gentle that it made my chest ache. "She's scared."

"Let me see," Luca said, his tone unreadable as he gestured to my arm.

I hesitated, but Matteo gave me a reassuring nod. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're here to help."

With trembling hands, I pushed the blanket away, revealing the red, swollen skin around the edge of the cast.

"Damn it," Luca muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.

Raffaele knelt beside the bed, his usual lightheartedness replaced with quiet worry. "Piccolina, how long has it been like this?"

"I-I don't know," I admitted, my voice cracking.