Page 121 of Veil of Obsession

He resists. He bucks against her. But she holds him. Tight.

His chest rises and falls like a caged animal’s. His knees buckle. He lets her guide him to the wall and slides down it, breathing like he’s drowning in open air.

I don’t move. I can’t.

I just stare at Ma’s bed. At her still body. At the bloodstained gown. The white sheets.

Her chest isn’t rising anymore. There’s no warmth left in the room. None.

Behind me, I hear Mara. At first, a breath. Then a sound. A scream. Raw. Guttural. It tears out of her like something was wrenched from her soul and the echo is all that’s left.

She falls, but Matteo’s there. His arms wrap around her, and she’s clawing at his jacket, sobbing, gasping, hitting him, holding him.

I hear her, but I don’t move. I don’t blink. I just…exist.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was going to be okay. She was going to wake up and complain about the food and kiss us all on the forehead and tell us we were dramatic. She was going to be fine.

How the fuck did we get here? How thefuckdid we lose her?

I don’t feel the tears at first. They come slow, hot. Drop down my cheek.

One. Then another.

I take a step forward. Then another. I reach her bedside and sit beside her. Her hand is cold. I take it anyway. Her nails are still painted—soft pink, chipped at the corners.

She’d been fussing with Mara over dresses earlier that day. Arguing over whether the napkins matched the table runners.She had told me to take more chicken. That I looked too thin. She’d smiled. She was happy.

And now she’s gone.

I feel Matteo’s hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

Eli hasn’t spoken either. He’s curled against the wall, Valentina rocking him like he’s a child.

Mara’s still sobbing, her cries growing hoarse.

The machines are quiet now. No beeping. No heartbeat. No sound.

Just the absence of her.

The rain feelslike it’s trying to wash her away.

We step out of the hospital, and the world looks like it’s mourning too—gray skies, neon smears on wet pavement, the heavy hush of a city trying to pretend it doesn’t hear our grief.

My shirt sticks to my skin. Cold water drips down the back of my neck.

No one talks.

Matteo walks ahead; phone pressed to his ear again. He’s muttering low, fast, tight. Something about firewalls. About breach points. About how itshouldn’thave happened.

Valentina wraps her coat tighter around her, one arm hooked through Eli’s. He hasn’t said a word since Ma’s last breath.

I trail behind.

The city doesn’t feel real. It’s blurred at the edges—like I’m looking at it through glass. Or grief. Or guilt.

Then Eli stops walking. We all do. He turns around slowly, the streetlight casting sharp angles over his face. His jawclenches, and when he speaks, his voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.

“You brought this into our house.”