Truce

Truce
Sofia Pov

I heard the front doors slam before I saw him.
I was curled up in the reading nook by the hallway window, pretending to study while my mind swirled with a thousand thoughts.
One of my textbooks laid open on my lap, but the words had long stopped registering.
Footsteps, measured, heavy. Marco's.
I leaned slightly to peer down the grand corridor as he entered, his brows furrowed in displeasure like there was a weight pressing on them. His shirt was still rumpled from the meeting I knew he had with his inner circle. He looked upset like he just had an argument. It was the way his hand trembled as he ran it through his hair that I knew whatever had upset him was huge, a faint twitch in his jaw. The absolute absence of that cold composure he always wore like a second skin.

I should have stayed hidden. But I stood up making my presence known.
“Marco.”
He froze at the sound of my voice. His head turned slightly, but he didn’t speak.
“Are you alright?” I asked gently, stepping closer.
He exhaled slowly. “Fine.”
A lie. Obvious.
“You’re not,” I pressed, not giving up. I don't know why I was even trying but I didn't like seeing people upset.
Marco finally looked at me then, and the fire in his eyes wasn’t anger this time. It was weariness. Pain. His walls weren’t shattered, but they were cracked, and for once, he didn’t seem interested in patching them up.
“I had a conversation I should’ve had years ago,” he said quietly. “One that ended too late to matter.”
Before I could ask more, the lights flickered.

Then everything went dark.
I gasped, instinctively stepping back. Somewhere down the hallway, Alyssa’s voice called out, a sleepy, confused little cry.
Marco’s entire body went alert. “I’ll check the backup power.”
He seemed kind of relieved that we weren't continuing the conversation. Something that I had missed feelings about.
“No,” I said quickly, already moving. “You check the generator. I’ll get Alyssa.”
I hurried down the hallway, heart in my throat, guided by the soft glow of emergency lights that began to pulse faintly from the floor trim.
I found Alyssa curled up in bed, clutching a stuffed elephant.
“Sweetheart?” I murmured, brushing a hand over her hair. “It’s just a blackout. Everything’s okay.”

Alyssa blinked up at her, disoriented. “Is Daddy mad?”
My throat tightened. “No. Just tired.” And upset, even though I didn't know why he was.
“I heard his voice,” the girl whispered.
I didn’t have the heart to lie. “Grown-ups sometimes need to let out their hurt too. It doesn’t mean anything bad will happen.”
I stayed there for a while until Alyssa’s breathing evened out, soft and trusting.

By the time I returned to the main hallway, the soft hum of solar power had restored a dim golden light through the estate. I found Marco by the fireplace in the sitting room, staring into the cold embers like they might spark again if he willed it hard enough.
I stood in the doorway.
“I tucked her back in. She’s fine,” she informed him quietly.
Marco didn’t turn.
“What happened?” I asked him.
He stayed silent but surprisingly he gave a response.
“I had a fight with Domenico.”
Domenico was Nina's brother, his brother-in-law, I knew that.
“You fought with Domenico?” I panicked, checking his face for any sort of injury.
“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he said.
“I let him speak. It’s something I always let him do after Nina's death.”

I crossed the room slowly and sat in the chair across from him. The air between them wasn’t hostile anymore,.just… raw. Real.
I looked at him in the flickering light.
“He blames you.”
“I know.” His tone was resigned.
Guilt warmed in his eyes, he felt guilty after all these years.
“Do you blame yourself?” I asked him, knowing well that he could choose to answer or not.
Marco didn’t answer right away. “I replay everything sometimes. Every argument. Every silence. Every time I shut her out to protect her, or to protect myself. But whether I blame myself or not doesn't bring her back.”
The quiet settled again.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. “I used to lie awake at night, trying to imagine who you really were. The man I married without choice. The man I was warned about. I looked for reasons to hate you.”
“And did you find them?”
I looked straight at him. “Yes. And then I found reasons not to.”
He was making it hard not to hate him even though I wanted to.

Marco turned toward me now, shadows cutting across his face. “Which one wins?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said honestly. “But I stopped hoping you'd be a monster. That was easier than accepting that you're just... a man carrying too many ghosts.”
Something shifted in his expression, something almost vulnerable.
He stood, and for a moment I thought he would leave.
But instead, he reached out a hand. “Come.”
I hesitated, then placed my hand in his.
He led me not to the master bedroom, but the guest room I used before moving into my space. It felt like a strange full circle.
“I won’t touch you,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts. “Not unless you ask me to.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I replied, even as my heart pounded.

We laid side by side on the bed, not touching, just breathing in the same dark.
The silence was oddly comforting.
“I wanted to hate you,” I whispered. “That was supposed to make this easier.”
Marco didn’t answer. We watched each other in silence.
He only reached out after long moments had passed, just his pinky brushing against mine between them on the sheets.
I didn’t pull away.
When I finally drifted to sleep, it was to the sound of his breathing matching mine.