The sun rose slowly over the villa, its rays slicing through the heavy curtains that had stayed closed for weeks. The world outside seemed alive again, but inside the mansion, everything felt cold — untouched, frozen by grief. Elena sat by the window, her face pale from sleepless nights. Her fingers absentmindedly touched the small blue chain she wore around her wrist — the one that once belonged to their unborn child.
Lorenzo watched her from the doorway. He hadn't spoken much since the night she killed her father. He wasn't angry anymore, not truly, but something inside him had changed. The man who once ruled the city with a fiery temper now carried a silence that frightened everyone around him.
"Elena," he finally said, his voice soft but tired. "You need to eat."
She didn't turn around. "I'm not hungry."
He sighed, walking closer, the floor creaking under his boots. "You can't keep doing this. You're hurting yourself."
"I already lost everything that mattered," she whispered, her voice trembling but sharp. "What's left to hurt?"
Lorenzo sat beside her, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. The distance between them wasn't just physical — it was carved by pain, guilt, and the things they couldn't undo.
"I know what it feels like," he said quietly. "Losing someone before you even get to hold them. I feel it every night. But shutting me out won't bring the baby back."
She finally turned to face him, her eyes red and raw. "You think I don't know that? I see that little face in my dreams, Lorenzo. I wake up thinking maybe it was all a lie — maybe the doctor made a mistake. But every morning, it's the same. Empty."
He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn't. They both knew it would never be the same again.
"I don't blame you," he said softly.
"But I do," she replied, tears spilling. "I blame myself for falling in love with a man who lives in blood and danger. I blame myself for believing I could change the world you built. And I blame myself for letting our child die in it."
Her words hit him like bullets. He lowered his gaze, guilt burning through him. "You're not the reason, Elena. The people who did this—"
"Are already dead," she interrupted. "I killed my father, Lorenzo. I killed the man who made me this way. But it doesn't stop the nightmares. It doesn't stop the pain."
He reached out again, this time she didn't pull away. He took her hand gently, his thumb brushing against her cold skin. "Then let me carry it with you," he murmured. "Let me take what's left of your pain, even if it kills me."
A single tear slid down her cheek. "You can't fix me."
"I'm not trying to," he said. "I just don't want to lose you too."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of the wind filled the room. The silence between them wasn't empty anymore — it was heavy, full of memories and broken promises.
That night, Lorenzo came into the room again. He found her sitting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The blue chain rested on the pillow beside her, glimmering faintly under the moonlight.
"I can't sleep," she whispered when she heard him.
"Me neither," he said, sitting down beside her. "I keep thinking about what we could've been… if things had gone differently."
Elena turned toward him, her voice small. "Do you ever wish we never met?"
He looked at her, shocked. "Never. Even with all the pain, I'd still choose you. Every time."
Her breath hitched as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. She didn't push him away. For the first time since the hospital, she let herself feel his warmth. She let the walls she had built start to crumble, piece by piece.
"I don't know how to move on," she whispered into his chest.
"You don't have to," he replied. "We'll move together. Slowly. One day at a time."
She looked up at him then, her eyes searching his face. There was pain in both of them, but there was also something else — love, stubborn and raw.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You once told me you didn't want peace," he said quietly. "But I think it's time we try to find it — not for the world, but for us."
Elena nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't know if I can ever forgive myself, Lorenzo."
"Then let me forgive you," he whispered. "For both of us."
They stayed like that for a long time, their bodies close but their hearts still learning how to beat in rhythm again. Outside, the storm that had raged for so long seemed to fade. The city lights flickered like tiny flames of hope.
Lorenzo pulled the blanket around her and whispered, "Sleep, my love. Tomorrow, we start again."
For the first time in months, Elena closed her eyes and let herself believe that maybe — just maybe — they could heal. Not completely, but enough to keep going.
And as Lorenzo watched her drift to sleep, he kissed the little blue chain beside her and whispered a promise — not of revenge, but of protection, love, and a future they'd both fight to keep.