Chapter 88
LUCÍA – POV
I don’t know if it was the sound of the Mediterranean wind hitting the shutters or the silence seeping through the ancient walls, but lately the afternoons in the mansion weigh on me more heavily.
The days are so alike that sometimes I feel as if I’m living inside an endless loop. I wake up, feed the twins, take a short walk through the vineyard gardens, and try to convince myself that everything is fine, even though inside the emptiness gnaws at me.
The mansion is beautiful, yes, but it’s also far too big for one person. The girls’ laughter fills some corners, but when the echo fades, only the silence remains… the kind that constantly reminds me that Mateo is no longer here.
Every time I pass by the silver cross hanging in the main hallway, I stop for a moment. Not because I feel more faithful, but because its presence reminds me of him. His deep voice, his scent, his hands. I try not to think about the last night we shared, but every corner of this house carries his shadow. He told me he would come back. He promised it with eyes full of conviction.
And even though I try to believe him, there are days when faith slips through my fingers like water.
That afternoon, the sky was leaden gray. I was sitting on the terrace with the twins, feeding them their bottles, when I heard the sound of a car engine. For a moment, my heart raced violently. For one absurd instant, I thought it was him. But no. It was Elena.
She arrived with Diego, who jumped out as soon as the car stopped.
“Lucía!” she greeted me with that warm smile I’ve always envied. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Of course not,” I replied, genuinely happy to see her. “Come in. I really needed you.”
Elena laughed.
“That sounds like an invitation to rescue you from boredom.”
“And from loneliness,” I added honestly.
We hugged. She smelled of soft perfume, of flowers, of home. Meanwhile, Diego approached the twins curiously. He watched them for a moment and then asked:
“Can I play with them?”
“Of course, but be gentle,” I warned him. “They’re still very small.”
The boy sat down on the Persian rug and began making funny noises to make them laugh. The twins watched him, fascinated, letting out clumsy giggles. Seeing them together was… strange. As if, for a moment, everything made sense.
Elena settled beside me with a steaming cup of tea.
“They seem to get along well,” she said, smiling. “Diego is very happy here. Sometimes I can’t believe how quickly he adapted.”
“You can tell you love him,” I said. “That child desperately needed love. And you gave it to him.”
“He completely changed our lives,” she admitted. “Santiago plays the tough guy, but he adores him. He doesn’t say it out loud, of course, but you can see it in the way he looks at him.”
I smiled.
“Maybe all the men in this family hide what they feel too much.”
Elena let out a soft laugh.
“Maybe.” She paused and looked at me. “But you know better than anyone that Mateo doesn’t do it out of pride. He… is afraid.”
My smile faltered. I felt the familiar knot rise in my throat.
“I know,” I said softly. “And I don’t blame him.”
The silence between us was gentle, comfortable, but also heavy with something we both understood perfectly. She took my hand.
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
I lowered my gaze to my lap.
“There isn’t a day that goes by without me thinking of him. Without imagining his voice when he prays, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.” I swallowed with difficulty. “My life without him is a silent agony, Elena. But I endure it.”
She squeezed my hand tightly.
“You don’t have to pretend to be strong with me.”
“I’m not pretending.” I smiled sadly. “I’m just accepting what is. He has a sacred calling. He belongs to something greater than us, and I can’t ask him to give everything up for me or for the girls. That would be selfish.”
Elena sighed.
“Love doesn’t always need rational explanations. Sometimes it’s just felt.”
“And sometimes it hurts like hell,” I replied.
We fell silent. Diego’s laughter and the twins’ filled the terrace, and for a moment I felt part of something beautiful. A piece of real family. The boy built towers with wooden blocks, and the twins knocked them down laughing. Elena watched them like a proud mother.
“I admire you,” she said suddenly.
I looked at her, confused.
“Me? Why?”
“Because you keep believing, even though life hasn’t been fair to you.” She smiled gently. “Not many women could endure so much and keep loving with the same strength.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just hugged her tightly.
When the sun began to set over the Mediterranean, Elena stood up. Diego ran to say goodbye to the twins.
“Bye, little ones!” he said, laughing. “I’ll bring you candy next time!”
“Thank you for coming,” I said to Elena as I walked her to the car. “You did me good today.”
“You needed it,” she replied. “Don’t shut yourself in so much, Lucía. A house can become a prison if you let it.”
“I’ll try.”
She hugged me before getting into the car.
“Mateo will come back,” she said firmly, with certainty. “And when he does, you’ll know what to do.”
I nodded, though I didn’t say anything. When the car disappeared down the cypress-lined road, I returned to the terrace. The girls were sleeping in their cribs, exhausted from playing so much.
I sat beside them and watched them for a long time. They had the same peaceful expression he did when he slept. The same way of furrowing their brows, the same curve of the lips.
I stroked their black hair and murmured:
“Your father would love you madly if he held you in his arms.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Instead, I prayed. Not for myself, nor for him. I prayed that, wherever he was, he would feel the same thing I felt in that moment:
The certainty that the love we share is still alive, even if the world insists on separating us.
I stayed there in silence, with night falling over Sicily, thinking of Mateo, of his promises, and of the weight of his absence. I knew I couldn’t have him, but I also knew it was impossible to stop waiting for him.
And somehow, that was enough to keep breathing.