A week after the war ended, peace finally returned to the Moretti mansion — a peace that felt strange, almost too quiet. The air no longer carried the smell of gunpowder or blood, but the memory of it all still clung to Elena's heart.
That morning, she asked Lorenzo to take her somewhere important. She wore a simple black dress that barely fit around her swollen belly, her hair tied loosely as she stood by the car. Lorenzo tried to convince her to rest, but the look in her eyes told him there was no stopping her.
They drove in silence through the narrow road leading to the old cemetery on the hill. The wind brushed against the trees, and the sun burned softly through the clouds.
When they arrived, Elena stepped out slowly, her hand resting on her belly for balance. Lorenzo helped her walk across the grass, past the graves of nameless soldiers and old families, until she stopped in front of two graves standing side by side.
One was her mother's.
The other — the man she had once called father.
For a moment, she didn't speak. The only sound was the rustle of the wind and the faint chirp of birds. Then she knelt carefully, placing white lilies on both graves.
"Mom," she whispered, "I don't know if you can hear me, but I forgive you. Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing… maybe you just didn't know how to love me. But I love you, even after everything."
Her voice cracked as she turned to the second grave. "And you… you were never truly my father, but you raised me. You made me strong, even if your way of love was pain. Deep down, I still love you too. You were cruel, but you were mine."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Lorenzo placed his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, drawing quiet comfort from his warmth.
"Let's go home," he murmured softly. "You've done enough for one day."
She nodded, wiping her tears, and allowed him to guide her back to the car.
By the time they returned to the mansion, the evening sun had begun to set, coloring the sky a deep orange. Elena looked exhausted but strangely peaceful. Lorenzo helped her upstairs, but before they could reach the bedroom, she stopped suddenly and looked at him with a tired smile.
"Lorenzo…"
"Yes, amore?" he asked, holding her hand.
"I feel… strange."
Before he could ask what she meant, she suddenly lifted her voice — softly at first, then louder — and started singing a tune no one had ever heard before.
It was beautiful, chaotic, and completely out of rhythm.
"Hmm hmm la la hungry… hungry… I'm hungry… hungry hungry babyyy… I wanna eat some fooood!" she sang dramatically, twirling around in the hallway.
The guards froze. The maids looked at each other, wide-eyed. Moretti, who had just walked by, dropped his gun cleaning rag and blinked twice, unsure whether to laugh or salute.
Lorenzo just stood there, watching her — half in disbelief, half in pure amusement.
"Elena… amore mio… what— what was that?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
She puffed her cheeks and pointed at her belly. "It's your child's fault! I'm hungry! And you're just standing there while your woman and your baby starve to death!"
That broke the silence. Everyone burst out laughing. The maids covered their mouths, giggling, and even the guards couldn't hold it in.
Elena frowned, placing both hands on her hips. "Are you all laughing at me because I'm hungry?" she demanded, her lips trembling.
Then, out of nowhere, her voice cracked. "You're all mean!" she yelled, tears filling her eyes.
Lorenzo froze — the same man who could kill a dozen men without blinking — now panicking because his pregnant wife was crying over food.
"Hey, hey, hey, amore! Don't cry," he said quickly, running to her side. "They're not laughing at you. I promise. They're just… um… happy to see you sing?"
"You liar!" she sniffled. "You were laughing too!"
"I— I wasn't!" Lorenzo lied terribly.
"Yes, you were!"
"No, I swear! Okay, okay, no more laughing! Come on, bella, let's feed you."
He bent down and lifted her into his arms, ignoring her little kicks and half-hearted protests. "Put me down, Lorenzo!"
"No chance," he said, chuckling softly. "You've embarrassed me enough today. Now everyone knows my wife sings about food."
She pouted and smacked his chest lightly. "You're lucky I'm too tired to fight you."
Lorenzo grinned and kissed her forehead. "And you're lucky I love you too much to care how crazy you get when you're hungry."
He carried her upstairs to their bedroom while the staff giggled quietly behind them. As soon as he placed her gently on the bed, she sighed dramatically and murmured, "I want pasta… no, maybe pizza… no, actually, I want both."
Lorenzo laughed and brushed his hand through her hair. "Whatever my hungry queen wants, she gets."
She smiled faintly, her eyes fluttering shut as he kissed her belly. "You hear that, baby?" he whispered to the unborn child. "Mama's crazy, but papa loves her anyway."
That night, as the mansion settled into quiet laughter and warmth, Lorenzo realized that peace didn't always come with silence. Sometimes, it came with chaos — and a woman who sang love songs about food.