The Healing Phase

The Healing Phase
Sofia pov

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, soft and golden, catching the edges of my curls as I moved quietly through the villa’s kitchen. A light breeze whispered through the gauzy curtains, carrying with it the faint scent of rosemary and earth from the garden outside.
I stirred the tea absently, my eyes drifting toward the hallway.
Alyssa was still asleep. For the first time in days, her breathing had been even and undisturbed all night. We have spent four days here and I was still trying to get the hang of our new environment.
And Marco?
He had gone for a run at dawn.
His absence left a strange ache in the space around me, though I couldn’t explain why. But I was suspecting it was majorly the fact that I had been relying emotionally on him for the past few days. Circumstances had pushed Marco to be my emotional support.
I wasn’t supposed to miss him like this.
But I did. I was getting too attached and I didn't know how to feel about that.

We had shared a bed the previous day because of my recurring nightmares.
The first time that it had happened, I wrote it off as a one time thing.
And yet, sometime after the first time, I had found myself standing in front of his door, my hand hovering just inches from the knob.
I hadn’t knocked. I was having second thoughts and would have retreated either to my room or Alyssa's room.
He opened the door first.
His eyes still heavy with sleep had met mine, and I didn’t say a word. He just gave me a small nod, stepped to the side making room for me to go in.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, slipping in behind me.
“Yes.” I fidgeted with the duvet laying on my side.
He snuggled close to me and laid his arm protectively over my chin, his hand resting on my pillow.
“Goodnight.” I whispered, the bruise on my throat was still healing. Sometimes, it hurt to speak and the doctor had made a comment about me being lucky that my throat had not been crushed.
“Good night.” He rumbled in response.
I let out a deep sigh and put a pause on my thoughts.
Because they were still teetering on the edge of something fragile. What were we doing?
Something neither of us had the answer for yet.

By the time Marco returned, his shirt damp from sweat and curls disheveled. I was seated outside with my tea and a book unopened in my lap.
He paused at the edge of the patio, watching me without speaking.
I felt peaceful sitting here and reading barefooted.
“How was your run?”
“It was nice. Is Alyssa still sleeping?”
“Yeah she's.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Why do you go for runs?” I was curious.
He tilted his head but answered me.
“It helps me when I need to think.”
I gestured to the chair beside me. Everyone had their own demons.
“Then you must be thinking a lot lately.”
He sat.
There was no tension this morning, no tightness in the air. Just quiet… and us.
I glanced down at my tea. “This place is beautiful.”
“I bought it for reasons like this. Like if I needed a place to rewind with my family,,” he said, surprising even himself.
I turned, lips parting slightly.

“Well, that's nice. A very nice deed.”
“It was for Nina to also come here to feel free and not caged in our house.” He explained further.
I watched him closely. “Is that what you’re doing with me?”
He looked at me.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I think you already know I couldn’t control you even if I tried.”
That made me smile, just barely.
A silence settled between us again. This one was softer. Familiar.
He turned slightly in his chair, gaze brushing my profile. “When you said you didn’t want to do this alone… Did you mean this? This life? This war?”
“I meant everything,” I said softly. “The fear. The pretending. The constant looking over my shoulder. I meant raising a child that’s not mine but feels like mine. I meant waking up and not knowing if I’ll survive the day.”

My voice broke then, just a little. “I meant… you.”
Marco’s throat tightened.
I didn’t look at him, just kept staring out at the olive trees in the distance.
“I wanted to hate you, Marco,” I said. “I tried.”
“I know.”
“But every time I thought I’d found a reason to walk away, you’d do something… human. Not the cold don, not the dangerous man I was warned about. Just a man. A father. A broken one, maybe, but trying.” My throat felt tight.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“You see too much.”
“I always have.”
My eyes finally found his.

And for once, he didn’t look away.
“I never thought I could feel safe again,” I whispered.
“You are now,” he said. “With me.”
A long pause.
Then: “Is this what healing feels like?”
Marco didn’t answer.
He simply reached for my hand.
And this time, I let him take it without showing any form of hesitance.
They sat there like that for a long time, no explosions, no threats, no ghosts of their past clawing at their heels.
Just morning.
And breath.
And a chance to begin again.