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I want to push him away, to make him feel the guilt I carry for still loving him despite everything.

But I don’t. Not yet.

Because my heart aches for the son he’s about to lose—and some part of me still needs to hold on, if only long enough to survive this moment.

Matteo’s face tightens, and I see the anguish in his eyes before he speaks.

“He’s on life support, Maria. There’s little to no brain function. The doctors… they don’t think he’s going to make it.”

The room goes still.

The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

For all he did, in the end, he found his redemption. He tried to correct the mistakes he had made.

I squeeze Matteo’s hand, my chest tightening with grief—grief for Daniele, yes, but also for the man I love, who is shattering before me.

“I’m sorry, Matteo. I’m so sorry.”

I open my arms to him, and he lets me pull him into a warm embrace.

Nothing will ever soothe this kind of heaviness—but I will do whatever it takes to make sure he never feels alone.

“In the end, he was sorry—for how everything played out. He loved you with everything he had, and he wanted to get me to safety… to make up for the wrong he’d allowed.”

Matteo stares at me, his face caught between deep sorrow and acceptance—like he’s already mourning the loss of the son he tried so hard to protect. His eyes hold a pain so raw, so real, that it twists in my chest. He’s not just losing Daniele—he’s losing the future they both fought for.

I can see the heaviness in his gaze—the quiet desperation to be there for Daniele in his final moments.

And I know what he needs to do.

“Go to him,” I say quietly, urging him. “Go be with your son. I’ll be okay here for now.”

He looks at me, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. But I know he has to be with Daniele. He has to say goodbye—and we don’t know how much time he has left to do that.

“Here. Take my phone,” Matteo says, his voice shaking as he hands it to me. “Call your parents. They’ve been worried about you, and I promised them you’d call as soon as you woke up. They were set to land in two days.”

I nod, trying to keep myself composed. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him and make him hesitate.

He needs to go. He needs to be with his son.

After Matteo leaves, I stare down at the screen—my mother’s number already open, waiting for me to dial.

I let my fingers hover above the phone, frozen.

My hands tremble as I lift the phone to my ear. The room is quiet, sterile. A faint beeping from the monitors is the only sound as I sit curled on the hospital bed, wrapped in a blanket that doesn’t quite chase away the cold.

The phone rings three times before my mother answers. “Maria? Dios mío—are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Mamá,” I whisper. The lie tastes like ash on my tongue. I wish I could believe it.

“I just wanted to tell you… I’m coming home.”

There’s a long pause. I can almost hear her heart pounding through the silence.

“We’ve been so worried, Maria. We’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, Mamá.”