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That nervous laugh of his returns. His eyes shine like a thousand shooting stars as he stares at me. “I am but I wanted you to have some comfort food. Your mother tells me that you love a good chicken curry.”

“You spoke to my mother?”

He nods. “After she scolded me, of course. She made sure to remember her promise to me on the day of our wedding. I told her it would stick with me for life.”

I tilt my head to the side and observe him for a moment. “What promise?”

“She said she would find eighteen different ways to kill me if I didn’t take care of you.” He blinks at me. “She was deathly serious too. I believe her.”

I sputter out a laugh and think of my sweet mother. “Of course she would.”

“Try it—I tried to make it the way that your mother does back home.” He waits for me to try the curry and I have to fight back a smile. This man is just too cute right now.

I pick up my fork and take a bite, and the moment the flavors hit my tongue, I let out a small, surprised hum. “This is actually good. It tastes like home.”

Matteo exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh I’ve ever heard from him. “I’m sure your mother would kill me if it wasn’t. It’s her recipe that I would have botched.”

The tension between us shifts slightly—still present, still heavy, but no longer suffocating. For the first time since our wedding, aren’t caught in a constant push and pull of resistance and surrender.

We’re simply existing together.

The silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels… oddly peaceful. Then, without thinking, I ask the one question I know I shouldn’t.

“This is real, right?”

Matteo pauses, his fork hovering just above his bowl. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sets his fork down, leaning back slightly in his chair.

His gaze locks onto mine, something unreadable swimming in the depths of his eyes. “It is more real than it has ever been, Maria.”

I should be relieved by his words. I should let them settle in my chest like a soothing balm, should let them wash away the uncertainty clinging to me like a ghost. But instead, doubt curls around my ribs like a serpent, whispering the cruelest question of all—what if this isn’t real?

What if I’m just another duty he’s committed to out of guilt?

What if, one day, the warmth in his eyes cools, and I’m left alone in the shadows again?

What if this isn’t real? What if I’m just another fleeting moment to him—just a duty he’s committed to out of guilt?

My fingers tighten around the fork, and I lower my gaze to my plate, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. I want to believe him—I need to believe him. But my heart has already learned the cost of trusting too easily.

And yet… he came back for me. He stayed with me.

“I want to believe you,” I murmur, almost too quietly.

Matteo exhales. His voice, when he finally speaks, is quieter—but no less intense.

“I know why you hesitate, Maria. I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt this—to doubt me.” His jaw tightens for a brief moment before he releases a slow breath, his shoulders softening. “But I need you to know this.”

He leans forward, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face. His gaze—steady, unwavering—locks onto mine, and for the first time, I see something in them that wasn’t there before.

“I am here. I am yours. And I am not going anywhere.”

The raw sincerity in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“I don’t expect you to trust me overnight.

I don’t expect you to believe every word I say just because I’m saying it.

But I need you to see that I’m standing right in front of you, choosing you.

Every damn time, I will choose you.” He pauses, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

“I don’t want to make this work out of duty, or guilt, or obligation—I want to make this work because I need you.

Because you, Maria, are the only thing that makes this world feel real to me. ”

His words press against something deep inside me, cracking the carefully constructed walls I’ve spent months building.

My breath catches. I swallow hard, feeling the sudden weight of his words settle between us. “I don’t want you to hurt me, Matteo.”

He lifts his eyes to meet mine and the world stills. I forget how to breathe. I can hear the blood gushing past my ears.

“I was unfair to you, and I cannot apologize enough for what I have done to you and your heart.”

I open my mouth to speak but he holds his hand up to allow him to finish.

“I have not loved a woman since Beatrice. When I lost my wife, something inside me snapped. I thought I locked my heart away, convinced myself no one would ever reach it again. But you?—”

His breath hitches, his fingers tapping against the table once before stilling.

“You were already inside before I even realized it. And that scared me.”

I hold my breath, my chest tightening as he continues.

“I pushed you away because I thought it was the only way to keep myself from losing again. Because love—real love—makes you weak. It gives someone the power to ruin you.” His voice drops lower, almost hesitant. “And I swore I would never be that vulnerable again.”

He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “But when I saw you lying there in the hospital bed, Maria—when I saw you pale and unconscious, barely breathing—everything I thought I knew shattered. I wasn’t protecting myself.

I was punishing myself. I was punishing you for something you never even did. And I was so fucking wrong.”

His voice is raw, thick with a kind of desperation I never thought I’d hear from him. His fingers tighten around his fork for a brief moment before he exhales, his jaw tightening.

“Do you know what it feels like, Maria?” His voice drops lower, barely above a whisper. “To think you’re untouchable—only to realize too late that someone has already burrowed so deep inside of you, you can’t breathe without them?”

He looks at me then, and for the first time, I see it. Not just the love, but the fear.

“That’s what you are to me.”

He finally looks at me, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “You are the sun I revolve around, Maria. I will never let my fear push you away again.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because for the first time, I don’t think Matteo is just saying something to manipulate, to control, to assert power. For the first time, I think he means it. I don’t just hear the words—I feel them.

His words linger between us, thick with something I can’t quite name.

“I don’t care how many times you need reassurance I will be right in front of you telling you, that I am here and this is real.

I will tell you every morning, noon, and night if I have to.

” His words are coated in conviction and truth.

“You are my world, Maria. And there is no me without you, not now or ever. Okay?”

My mind is a frenzy of emotion and chaos. I don’t have the right words to say so I simply nod.

“Good.” His body eases and the tension releases from his body.

The rest of dinner passes in a quiet, unexpected calm. Matteo doesn’t push for conversation, and for once, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.

When I finally set my fork down, I realized just how much I needed this. Not just the food, but this moment. The warmth of a meal shared, the steady presence of this man.

Matteo watches me carefully as if trying to read my thoughts. “You should rest,” he says, voice softer than usual.

I nod, but something in his gaze keeps me locked in place. The candlelight casts sharp shadows across his face. There is a tinge in his pupils, a flicker of heat that simmers just below the surface.

My fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the table. The electricity in the air crackles to life, and that subtle hum that passes between us whenever we collide smashes into us.

I don’t know what comes over me then, whether it’s exhaustion, the warmth of the evening, or the sudden pull between us, but before I can think better of it, I stand from my seat and walk toward him.

Matteo watches me carefully, his expression unreadable, his body as still as stone. The heat in his eyes begins to boil, and the gentle charge in the air intensifies.

“What are you doing, cara?” He looks up at me as I come to a halt by his chair. I stare down at him, trying to make sense of my own intentions.

“Fuck it.” I don’t give myself a chance to second-guess—I just move.

I lean down, brushing my lips against his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens quickly. Matteo doesn’t hesitate. He responds instantly, his hand coming up to cradle the back of my neck, pulling down toward him. He pushes back to give me the room to settle in his seat.

The kiss is slow, sensual—an unspoken promise, a confession in the language of touch.

I taste the heat of him, the hunger, the depth of everything he feels but doesn’t say.

Fuck, it’s good. Our tongues move together in an intricate dance that only they understand.

It’s this gentle push and pull of the tides that leaves my heart pounding ferociously in my chest.

When we finally break apart, my pulse is racing, my breath uneven.

“Take me to bed, Matteo,” I whisper.