A Fragile Thread

Chapter 15: Giggles

Emilia POV:

I woke up slowly, the fuzziness of sleep still clinging to me. For a moment, everything felt like it was in a haze. My head was heavy, and my throat was dry, but at least it didn't feel as if I was on fire anymore.

Raffaele was sitting at the edge of my bed, looking at me with his usual grin, though it seemed a little gentler today. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the last bit of sleep.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice still a bit raspy.

His grin softened. "I've been here for a while, actually. You've been out cold for hours, sweetheart." He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I muttered. "I'm not... not burning anymore." I shifted, sitting up a little, but the room still felt wobbly.

Raffaele immediately placed a hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm, making sure I didn't topple over. "Careful, love," he said, his tone soothing. "I don't think the room's ready for you to start jumping around just yet."

I gave him a small, half-smile, despite myself. I wasn't sure what was going on, but the way he was talking—so calm, like he was trying not to spook me—it made me feel like maybe I didn't have to be so scared anymore.

But the moment his hand left my shoulder, the quiet crept back in. I shifted uncomfortably, hugging my knees to my chest.

I remembered what happened before, how I had gotten sick and why. It wasn't just the fever. It wasn't just the pain. It was everything that had been happening around me that I didn't understand. The way my brothers were always so on edge, always so careful with me like I might break at any second.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He froze, his eyes softening, confusion flickering across his face. "Sorry?" he repeated. "What for?"

"I don't know. I just... I don't want to be a burden," I said quietly. My voice cracked, and I hated it. "I don't want you all to keep worrying about me."

Raffaele's gaze softened, and I could see him processing my words. His usual playful grin was gone, replaced with something more... real. Something more like concern.

He leaned in just a little, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're never a burden, sweetheart," he said gently. "Don't ever think that. We just care about you." His eyes met mine, and for a second, I could see the weight of the unspoken words. He wasn't just talking about this fever, this sickness. He was talking about everything else, too.

I nodded slowly, not sure what to say.

Then, Raffaele cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter, his usual teasing smile returning, though it wasn't as playful as usual. "Okay, well," he began, his voice brightening just a little, "I've got a joke for you." He raised an eyebrow, trying to make it look dramatic. "What do you call a fake noodle?"

I just looked at him. I didn't feel like smiling.

"A impasta!" he said, his grin wide as if the joke was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

I blinked at him, my lips barely twitching.

"Really?" I asked, and I could hear the edge of disbelief in my voice.

Raffaele chuckled softly, brushing his hand through his hair. "Okay, that one was a bit of a stretch," he admitted. "How about this one? Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

I sighed softly but still couldn't help the flicker of interest in my eyes. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because he was outstanding in his field!" he said, laughing at his own joke.