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ALESSIA

T he silence in my apartment is suffocating, a thick blanket that presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I’m sprawled on the floor in front of my couch, my knees pulled to my chest, my arms wrapped around them like I can keep myself from falling apart if I just hold on tight enough. My breath hitches, and another sob breaks free, ripping through me with a force that shakes my whole body.

I can’t stop crying. The tears flow unchecked down my cheeks, hot and relentless, blurring my vision, making everything look distorted and strange. Mr. Marvin, nudges against me, his warm body offering some comfort, but even his purring doesn’t reach the hollow ache inside me. My chest feels like it’s been carved out, a void where my heart used to be, and every breath I take feels like I’m inhaling shards of glass.

I try to focus on the sounds around me—the hum of the fridge, the distant wail of a siren, the ticking of the clock—but nothing cuts through the fog of my grief. I feel like I’m drowning in it, lost in a sea of memories and pain, each wave pulling me under a little more.

Nonna. She’s gone. Just like that.

The image of her slumped in the chair, her head tilted, her eyes lifeless, her blood slipping through my fingers like water—it all flashes through my mind again, and I choke on another sob. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to block it out, but it’s seared into my brain. I can’t erase it. I can’t unsee it. I loved her so much. She was the glue that held us all together, the one who always knew what to say, the one who could make everything feel okay. Now she’s gone, ripped away in an instant, and nothing makes sense anymore.

A knock on the door startles me, jolting me out of my thoughts. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, my hands trembling. I don’t want to see anyone, don’t want to face the world outside these walls, but the knocking comes again, more insistent this time.

I force myself to stand, my legs feeling like lead, and make my way to the door. I don’t even check who it is before I open it. I just need something, anything, to break through this unbearable loneliness.

Valentina and Mara stand on the other side, their expressions a mix of worry and determination. They’re carrying bags of snacks and bottles of wine, and I see the resolve in their eyes, the way they’re ready to bulldoze through whatever walls I’ve put up.

“Oh, Allie,” Valentina breathes, stepping forward and pulling me into a tight hug. I feel her warmth, the strength in her arms, and I cling to her, my fingers gripping the back of her shirt like she’s my lifeline.

Mara wraps her arms around us both, and suddenly, I’m in the middle of a group hug, surrounded by my closest friends, my family, feeling their love and support like a balm against my broken heart.

They pull back, and Valentina gives me a small, understanding smile. “We’re here,” she says simply, and those two words are enough to crack something open inside me. I nod, unable to speak, and step back to let them in.

Their bodyguards remain outside, standing by the door, alert and watchful. Valentina leads the way into the living room, placing the bags on the coffee table as Mara lowers the lights to a soft, comforting glow. She puts on Mamma Mia !. It’s light and warm, but none of us really pay attention to the screen.

We settle on the couch where they flank me, each of them taking one of my hands, grounding me in their presence. I try to speak, to tell them how much this hurts, how lost I feel, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I just let the tears fall, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Valentina’s grip on my hand is firm and unyielding, like she’s trying to transfer her strength to me. Her breath is warm against my cheek, her other hand gently brushing a stray hair away from my face. “We’re here, Allie,” she murmurs, her voice a soothing whisper. “We’re right here. Just breathe. Just stay with us, okay?”

I nod weakly, my head pounding, the room swaying. I see Mara beside Val, her usual playful expression now tight with concern, her hand gently rubbing my shoulder in small, comforting circles. Mara’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, her lips pressed into a thin line, and I know she’s fighting her own battle against the fear that clings to us like a second skin.

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling, the words raw and jagged in my throat. “Nonna… she was… she was everything.”

Mara’s hand stills on my shoulder, her grip tightening just slightly as if to reassure me that she’s here, that she understands. Her voice is soft when she finally speaks, barely more than a whisper, but there’s a rough edge to it, a crack that betrays the depth of her own pain.

“I know,” she says, her gaze far away like she’s staring into a past she can’t escape. “I know how it feels, Allie. When we lost my dad to the—” She pauses looking at Val, who gives her a nod to continue, “to the Chicago Outfit…It was like… like my whole world just… stopped. He was my hero, you know? And then… he was just… gone. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Her voice breaks on the last word, and she takes a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Grief glimmers in her eyes. The sadness flickers and burns like a dying ember, still glowing with the remnants of an old, searing pain. She looks down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap, and I realize she’s shaking.

“I used to think,” Mara continues, her voice steadier now, “that if I just held onto the anger, if I just kept it burning hot, I’d never feel the pain. But… the anger only lasted so long. Eventually, it just left me empty. I had to find a way to fill that emptiness… with memories, with the good things, even when it hurt.”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I nod, my throat tight. I know exactly what she means, that empty feeling, that desperate need to hold onto anything that makes sense when everything else is falling apart.

Valentina shifts beside me, her hand still holding mine, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. She takes a deep breath, like she’s steeling herself for something difficult, something she’s kept locked away.

“When I decided to be with Emiliano,” Valentina begins, her voice low, “I knew I was making a choice. I knew I’d have to leave my family behind—my sisters, my brother, my mom. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I still remember the look in their eyes after I returned to Chicago… it was like the war was tearing us apart.”

She pauses, swallowing hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I used to think I could have both, you know? That I could keep them close, even from a distance. But… it doesn’t work that way. Not in this life. Sometimes, love means making impossible choices. It means sacrifice. And sometimes, I wonder if I made the right one.”

Her words hang in the air between us, heavy and filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets. I feel the tension in her grip, the way her fingers tighten around mine as if she’s afraid I might slip away, too. I squeeze back, letting her know I’m still here, still with her, even in the midst of my own pain.

The room is silent for a moment, filled only with the quiet sounds of our breaths and the distant noise of the city outside. I feel my own pain mixing with theirs, a tapestry of loss and longing that connects us in ways we never fully realized until now.

Valentina turns the music on the soundtrack up slightly, the soft notes of the mournful tune fill the air, like an echo of sadness we all feel. “We all have our losses,” she says quietly. “Our sacrifices. But we’re still here, Allie. We’re still here, and we have each other. That’s something. The pain is still fresh, but time will dull it. I won’t lie to you and tell you that it will make you forget, or it’ll make it any easier, but it will dull it.”

I nod, my tears blurring my vision, but I feel a strange warmth blooming in my chest, a tiny spark of light in the midst of all this darkness. They’re right. We’re still here, and we still have each other. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe, for now, that’s enough.

We start to move, slowly at first, our bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. It’s not dancing, not really, just a way to feel something other than pain, a way to remember that we’re alive, that we’re still here, still breathing.

But then, the lights flicker. Once, twice, and then everything goes dark.

I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat, my breath catching in my chest. “What… what’s happening?” I whisper, gripping Valentina’s arm, my fingers digging into her skin.

“I don’t know,” she replies, her voice tight with fear. “Stay close. Don’t move.”

The sound of footsteps, heavy and fast, echoe from the hallway outside. There’s a shuffle, the sound of a low voice muttering something I can’t quite make out. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, a shiver running down my spine. Then a thud, and another thud follows shortly after.

Mara fumbles with her phone, turning on the flashlight, the beam of light cutting through the darkness, casting long, twisted shadows on the walls. Valentina follows suit, and we all huddle together, our breaths shallow, our hearts pounding. I fumble with my own phone, trying to call Romiro, but it’s too late.

The door bursts open with a deafening crash, splinters flying through the air. I see the silhouette against the doorway, tall and menacing, and I barely have time to react before something hard slams into the side of my head.

The pain is instant, a blinding flash of white that makes the world tilt and spin. I hear someone scream—maybe it’s me, I don’t know—and then the ground rushes up to meet me, and everything goes black.