A Fragile Thread

Chapter 15: Giggles

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I won't do it if you're not." His tone was firm in a way that made me feel like I didn't have to be afraid. He wasn't going to push me into anything. I could say no, and that was enough.

I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice. My hands were still shaky, and I clutched at the blankets, not sure if I wanted to pull them tighter or let go. But something about the way he stood there, arms ready but patient, made me feel like I could trust him. Like it would be okay.

"Okay, sweetheart," he whispered, his hands moving carefully under my back and knees. The moment his arms slid beneath me, I felt my breath catch. He was warm, solid, and strong—but gentle too. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was giving me a choice even after I'd already said yes. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I had to brace myself.

When he lifted me, I felt a quick jolt of surprise, my body going rigid for just a second before I realized how steady his hold was. His hands were firm, but not crushing—just enough to make me feel safe, like nothing could happen to me if I stayed close to him.

"I've got you, bambina," he murmured, his voice low, calming. I could hear the soft beat of his heart under my ear, and with every step he took, I felt the tension inside me start to melt away, just a little.

It was strange, being carried. I wasn't used to feeling like this—so... light, almost weightless. And I wasn't used to being held with such care. My head rested against his chest, and the steady thump of his heart was grounding, like a reminder that I wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it was new, and I wasn't sure how to navigate it yet.

His arms were strong, supporting me, but it was his voice that kept me from feeling like I might slip away.

It was almost as if he was trying to reassure both of us. I felt the weight of my own body, but I also felt his strength, surrounding me, wrapping me up in something soft and gentle. My hands, still gripping his shirt, felt the slight tremor of his muscles beneath the fabric. But he was careful, every movement slow, making sure I didn't feel any jarring motion.

There was no rush, no urgency in his steps. Every one of his movements felt like he was checking in with me, making sure I was okay.

The best part was that I believed him. Deep down I knew he would protect me. I realized that I felt so safe and secure in his arms that I left out an involuntary sob.

He immediately froze.

"Is this alright?" His voice was so soft now, barely above a whisper. With a barely noticeable hint of panic. "Do you want to stay like this, sweetheart? Please tell me if you're uncomfortable. I promise I won't be mad, I want to help."

"I'm okay," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but they felt like the truth. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear him say that I was safe, that he wouldn't drop me, that he wouldn't rush. Every moment felt like he was reminding me that I was okay, that I didn't have to be afraid.

I didn't feel scared in his arms. It wasn't like the times before, when being held had felt wrong, when it had felt forced or harsh. This time, it was different. He was giving me the space to decide, to be still or move, but the comfort he provided made me feel calm, safe. I felt small in his arms, but not fragile, not like I would break if I let go.

I rested my cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, steady and familiar. I could feel the warmth of his skin against my face, and it was like everything in the world slowed down for just a moment. My body, still weak from the fever, felt like it could finally relax.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Raffaele repeated, his words like a promise.

I closed my eyes for a second, allowing myself to lean into him, to trust him, to let him carry me. "Thank you," I whispered, the words barely a breath against his shirt.