Chapter 66 The distance between them
Clara met her eyes. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Dante turned his gaze toward Sienna, his expression unreadable. His eyes, still glazed from the hypnosis, searched her face like he was seeing her and someone else at the same time.
Her voice shook. “Dante, do you know who it is?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched, raw and painful. Clara stood up slowly, packing her things. “That’s enough for now,” she said softly. “Let him rest. The mind will bring what it needs, when it’s ready.”
Sienna barely heard her. She was watching Dante, who still hadn’t moved, he still hadn’t looked away from her.
When the door closed behind Clara, the quietness was deafening.
Sienna whispered, “Dante?”
He blinked, like waking from a sleep. “I… I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
Her heart ached. She reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into her touch either. His eyes flicked past her, lost somewhere she couldn’t reach.
Sienna’s chest tightened. He’s slipping again.
She wanted to hold him, to ground him, but all she could do was stay close waiting for his breathing to steady, for his eyes to find hers again.
Outside, thunder rolled across the coast low and distant, like a warning.
Dante finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “What if the person I’m trying to forget doesn’t deserve to be remembered?”
Sienna’s breath caught.
Before she could answer, he stood up abruptly, walking to the window. His reflection looked hollow against the stormlight. “What if remembering breaks everything again?”
She swallowed hard. “Then we’ll face it together.”
But he didn’t turn around.
The wind rattled the glass, carrying the faint echo of the sea. Sienna watched him in silence, her heart heavy, her thoughts racing.
Something in his eyes scared her, not fear, not confusion. Something darker. As the storm built outside, she realized: This was only the beginning.
Clara paused outside the villa, pulling out her phone as rain began to fall. She typed quickly, her face unreadable.
“He still remembered fragments but not the woman. He’s blocking her out, like we planned.”
A reply came seconds later from an unknown number. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. He must not remember that night.”
She looked at the door she was walked out from and smiled, then she turned towards the gate and left silently.
The villa felt different the next morning. It was quiet, wide and too cold.
Sienna sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a bottle of wine while glancing at the empty pot on the gas cooker. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. It should’ve been peaceful. It wasn’t.
Dante hadn’t spoken much since Clara left the previous day. He’d thanked her, nodded politely, and walked straight to his study. He didn't come out for breakfast, he locked himself when it was time for lunch.
No goodnight. He didn't even reconsider. Just silence. She had to even sleep in her former room, just to give him the space he required.
Now, as sunlight slipped through the tall glass windows, she heard the faint sound of his cane tapping down the hallway slowly. He rarely used the cane.
He walked past the kitchen without a word.
“Dante,” she said softly.
He paused, not turning. “Morning.”
Her throat tightened. That was it. Just morning. No warmth, no smile.
She forced one. “You didn’t sleep.”
“I didn’t need to.” His tone was flat and detached.
Sienna stood, trying to read his face, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead somewhere past her.
“I made breakfast,” she said gently. “It’s..”
“I’m not hungry.”
The words landed like stones.
She wanted to argue, to remind him he needed strength for his therapy, for himself, for them. But something in his posture that quiet, rigid distance stopped her.
He wasn’t angry. Not outwardly. He was closed. And that was worse.
After a few hours, Sienna cleaned the kitchen that didn’t need cleaning. She organized books that didn’t need organizing. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted toward the study door, where faint sounds like paper rustling, the soft creak of a chair, came and went.
By noon, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She walked to the door and knocked lightly.
“Dante?”
There was no response
“Dante?” she called again.
She waited and then a dull voice.“Come in.”
He was at his desk, surrounded by old files and notes. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in stripes of sunlight that cut across his face. His cane leaned against the chair, untouched.
Sienna stepped in quietly. “You’ve been here all morning.”
“I needed to think,” he said, flipping through papers that weren’t even open.
“About what you saw?”
He stilled. His fingers froze on the page.
She waited. He didn’t look at her.
Finally, he said, “I can’t stop replaying it. The lights. The sound. Luca shouting my name.”
His voice was hoarse, not angry, just lost. “And then the crash, I can still feel it. Like it’s happening again.”
Sienna’s heart twisted. She took a small step closer. “You remembered more than before. That’s good.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Good? I don’t even know what I’m remembering. It’s like watching a movie with half the screen missing.”
“You’ll see more,” she said softly. “It takes time.”
He finally looked at her just for a moment. His eyes were sharp, haunted. “And what if I don’t like what I find?”
She didn’t answer. She had no answer for him.
He turned away again, voice low. “It feels like I’m losing control, Sienna. Like something inside me is pulling back.”
Sienna wanted to reach out, to touch his hand, but she hesitated. Lately, he’d been pulling away from even that.
“Dante,” she said quietly, “you don’t have to go through this alone.”
He let out a long breath. “That’s the thing. I think I do.”
The words hit her harder than she expected. She opened her mouth to speak, but he’d already picked up a pen, pretending to read. The conversation was over and dismissed without cruelty, but dismissed all the same.
The afternoon dragged on like rain that wouldn’t fall.
Sienna sat by the window, staring at the sea below the cliffs. The waves moved endlessly, pulling and breaking like her thoughts.
She wanted to help him. To fix whatever was unraveling in his mind. But how could she reach him when he kept locking the door behind him?
When she heard the faint clink of cutlery, she turned. Dante was in the dining room now, eating alone, a plate of food untouched for hours before finally being moved to the sink.
He didn’t look up when she entered.
She stood a few feet away, her voice careful. “You’re eating now. That’s good.”
He nodded, chewing slowly. “I needed something in my stomach.”
She tried to smile. “Maybe later we can”
“I have work,” he interrupted, his tone gentle but final.
Her hands curled at her sides. “You’ve been working all day.”
He met her eyes briefly, a flicker of guilt there, then looked away. “It helps me think.”
Sienna wanted to say it wasn’t helping. That it was only building walls higher around him. But she bit her tongue.
She just whispered, “Okay,” and turned away.
Her chest ached as she walked down the hall. The sound of his fork against the plate followed her, steady, distant, like a metronome to her heartbreak.
At night, the villa lights glowed warm against the dark outside. Sienna lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for his footsteps. But they never came.
The clock ticked past midnight. Still nothing.
Finally, she gave up pretending to sleep. She slipped out of bed and walked barefoot through the corridor, her thin robe brushing against her legs.
A faint light spilled from under the study door.
She knocked gently. No answer.
“Dante?” she whispered.
Still nothing.
She turned the handle and stepped in.
He was there, hunched over his desk, head resting on his arm. Papers and notebooks lay scattered around him. A cold cup of coffee sat beside his hand.
The sight broke her heart a little.
She walked in quietly, setting a tray on the table beside him, tea, honey, a small slice of bread. “You need to eat,” she said softly.
He stirred slightly, opening his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Late,” she whispered. “You’ve been here all night.”
He rubbed his face, sighing. “I can’t stop seeing it.”
Sienna knelt beside him, resting a hand on his arm. “You’re remembering trauma. It’ll feel worse before it feels better.”
He didn’t look at her. “What if it’s not just trauma?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head slowly, eyes distant. “When Clara hypnotized me. I heard someone call my name, right before the crash. It wasn’t Luca that time.”
Sienna’s chest tightened. “Then who?”
He hesitated and the silence stretched between them.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “But I can feel it. Whoever it was, they were very close.”
Sienna’s pulse quickened. “You’ll remember. You just need time.”
He gave a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Time’s the one thing I’m running out of, Sienna.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him he wasn’t alone, that he still had her but the words caught in her throat. Because lately, it felt like he was already slipping beyond her reach.
She pushed the tray toward him. “At least drink the tea.”
He nodded, murmuring a quiet “thank you,” and he took a sip without looking up.
Sienna watched him in silence, her fingers curling around the edge of the desk.
He’s here, she thought. But he’s already somewhere else.