Chapter 71 -
“That is not rational,” Nia said.
“Grief is not rational,” Micheal said. He reached over and took Nia’s hand, squeezing it gently. “And love is not rational either. So if you are going to try this, if you are going to try to reach him, you need to go in with your eyes open. You need to know that he is going to hurt you. Not because he wants to, but because he does not know how to do anything else.”
“You make it sound impossible,” Nia said, her voice breaking.
“It might be,” Micheal said honestly. His eyes were sad, so profoundly sad that it made Nia want to cry just looking at him. “I have watched him die inside for years, Nia. I have watched him become less and less human, more and more like a machine designed only to kill and destroy. And I have tried to reach him. Christian has tried. Rosa has tried. We have all tried, and we have all failed.”
“Then maybe I will fail too,” Nia said, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all.
“Maybe,” Micheal agreed. “But maybe you will not. Maybe you are different. Maybe the fact that you are not family, that you are not part of this world, that you have no obligation to care about him, maybe that is exactly what he needs. Someone who chooses him not because they have to, not because they are bound by blood or duty, but because they want to.”
“I do not know if I am that strong,” Nia admitted.
“You are stronger than you think,” Micheal said, echoing his earlier words. “But even if you are strong enough, even if you do everything right, it still might not be enough. Because at the end of the day, Leo has to choose. He has to decide whether he wants to keep living in the past, punishing himself for Andrea’s death, or whether he wants to try to have a future. And that is a choice only he can make.”
Nia wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, frustrated with herself for crying again. “So what do I do?” she asked. “If I care about him, if I want to help him, what do I do?”
“You be yourself,” Micheal said. “You keep being real and honest and refusing to let him hide behind his walls. You challenge him. You make him uncomfortable. You make him question everything he thinks he knows about himself. And then you wait. You wait and see if he is brave enough to choose you.”
“And if he is not?” Nia asked.
Micheal’s expression softened with something that looked like genuine affection. “Then you survive anyway,” he said. “Because that is what you do. You survive. And eventually, you find a way to be happy again, even if it is not with him.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of the conversation pressing down on them both. Nia felt exhausted, wrung out, like she had run a marathon and collapsed at the finish line.
“Good luck with that,” Micheal said finally, and there was a bitter edge to his laugh that made it clear he did not actually think luck would be enough.
“You are very encouraging,” Nia said dryly.
“I am honest,” Micheal corrected. “There is a difference. If you wanted encouragement, you should have gotten drunk with Rosa. She would have told you that true love conquers all and Leo just needs the love of a good woman to heal his broken heart.”
“And you do not believe that?” Nia asked.
“I believe that love is powerful,” Micheal said. “But I also believe that some wounds go so deep that love alone cannot heal them. Sometimes people need to want to be healed. And right now, Leo does not want that. He wants to bleed. He wants to hurt. He wants to suffer until he finds the person who killed Andrea and makes them suffer more.”
“That is the saddest thing I have ever heard,” Nia said.
“Welcome to the DeSanto family,” Micheal said with a humorless smile. “Where sadness is the baseline and tragedy is just another Tuesday.”
Despite everything, despite the heaviness of the conversation and the tears still drying on her cheeks, Nia found herself smiling slightly. “You are ridiculous,” she said.
“I am a realist,” Micheal said. “With a drinking problem and a flair for dramatic timing.” He hauled himself to his feet with exaggerated effort, swaying slightly as he found his balance. “And on that cheerful note, I should probably go before Matteo breaks down the door to rescue you from my terrible influence.”
“He is probably still standing right outside,” Nia said.
“Definitely,” Micheal agreed. He reached down and pulled Nia to her feet, steadying her when she wobbled. “Promise me something,” he said, his hands on her shoulders, his expression suddenly serious.
“What?” Nia asked.
“Promise me that no matter what happens with Leo, no matter how this all ends, you will not lose yourself,” Micheal said. “You will not let this family, this house, this whole twisted situation turn you into someone you are not. Stay real, Nia. Stay you.”
“I promise,” Nia said, and she meant it.
Micheal pulled her into a quick, tight hug. “Good,” he said into her hair. “Because the world needs more real people and fewer ghosts.”
The room tilted slightly as Nia stood up, the whiskey making her movements uncoordinated and her thoughts bolder than they had any right to be. The empty bottle sat on the floor like an accusation, but there was another one, half-full, that Micheal had brought with him and set aside earlier. Nia’s eyes locked on it with the kind of focus that only came from being drunk enough to think terrible ideas were actually brilliant plans.
“Where are you going?” Micheal asked. He was still on the floor, looking up at her with bleary eyes that were trying very hard to focus and failing spectacularly.
“To talk to him,” Nia said. The words came out with more certainty than she felt, but the whiskey had stripped away her usual caution, leaving behind only raw impulse and a burning need to know if Micheal was right about everything.
Micheal blinked at her, processing her words with the slow deliberation of someone whose brain was swimming in alcohol. “Bad idea,” he said finally. “Very bad idea. Possibly the worst idea you have had since deciding to date Alex in the first place.”
“I do not care,” Nia said, and she meant it. The fear that usually kept her careful, kept her measured, had been drowned in whiskey and honesty. All that was left was a reckless courage that made her think she could march down to Leo’s study and demand answers to questions she had not even fully formed yet.