Chapter 152

The drive home was silent. The car glided along the road, and I stared out the window as if I could find some answer in the blur of buildings and trees. Vincenzo drove with a grim expression, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I knew he was processing everything as much as I was.

When we arrived at the mansion, familiarity tightened my chest. This house, which had once been our refuge, now seemed to carry a new weight, a doubt that loomed in every corner.

Vincenzo helped me out of the car, and when we got inside, he led me to the couch in the living room, making me sit down carefully. Nancy appeared in the kitchen doorway with a glass of water and an awkward smile, trying to break the heavy mood. But no one said anything for a few moments.

It was Vincenzo who spoke first.

“Rachel... there’s more. Things that don’t make sense.” His eyes met mine. “And I need to clear all of this up.”

“What exactly doesn’t make sense?” I asked, my voice still weak but firm.

He sighed, running his hand over his face.

“Veronica has always been smart. She’s always known how to manipulate people. I can’t get it out of my head that maybe this is just another one of her ploys. Something… planned.” His eyes hardened. “But if it’s true… if this boy really exists, I need to know. I need to face this.”

I just nodded. A part of me was in pieces, but the other… the other understood. This was Vincenzo. This was the man I chose to love, with all his baggage, his darkness, his scars.

He came closer and kissed my forehead tenderly.

“I want Nancy to stay with you. Just until I get back. Is that okay?”

I nodded again. Nancy was already leaning against the door of the room, and when she heard her name, she straightened up, with that missionary glint in her eyes.

“Leave it to me,” she said firmly.

Vincenzo walked to the door, put on his coat, and before leaving, he looked at me one last time.

— I'm going back to prison. Talk to Veronica. Find out the whole truth. — And then, with the intensity that only he had, he added: — I'll come back to you. Always.

I nodded, feeling the hot tears running down my face, but with a knot of determination in my gut. I needed to be strong now.

Vincenzo left, and I was left with Nancy by my side, not knowing what kind of truth awaited us.

The sound of the door closing echoed like thunder in my mind. Vincenzo was gone, and all that was left now was silence. A thick, dense, uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence that screams.

Nancy sat next to me on the couch, not saying anything for a few seconds. She handed me the glass of water and waited for me to take a sip before opening my mouth.

— Do you want to talk or do you want to pretend nothing happened and watch some weird reality TV show? — she asked, turning her face to me with that half smile that only appeared when she was trying to be polite.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears where they were. But my voice failed me.

“I don’t even know what to think, Nancy.”

She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly, giving me support without words.

“That was an earthquake, Rachel. But you’re standing. I’ve seen you break down over things so much smaller than this, and yet, look at you here.”

“I don’t know if I’m standing. I feel like a wreck.”

“And who wouldn’t be?” She leaned over, picking up the remote. “But you know what we do with wrecks?”

“We rebuild?”

“We drink wine in them.” She laughed to herself and looked at me, amused. “And then we rebuild. But the wine comes first.”

For a moment, I smiled. Weakly, but genuinely. Nancy was this unlikely force that somehow always managed to pull me up, even when everything seemed to be falling apart.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen. I heard the clinking of glasses and the sound of a corkscrew. When she returned, she was carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses that seemed larger than usual.

“Let’s drink like two Roman women in mourning,” she said, pouring the glasses with the solemnity of a sacred ritual.

I took mine with trembling hands and took a long sip. The taste was strong, intense. As if reminding me that there was still good in the world, despite everything.

“Do you think it’s true?” I asked, staring at the dark liquid in the glass.

Nancy shrugged.

“With Veronica? Maybe. She’s the type who likes to control the game. And lying about a child… that’s a masterstroke.”

“But why now? Why tell this now?”

“Because now you’re real. Stable. Happy.” She rested her elbow on the back of the sofa. “And people like that bother me.”

I remained silent, digesting her words. Vincenzo and I had been through so much to get to where we were. And now... now it felt like we were back at the beginning. A new abyss. A new shadow.

“What if it’s true?” I whispered. “What if he really does have a son?”

“Then you decide what that means to you,” Nancy replied seriously. “If it changes anything. If you can live with it. And most importantly, You can't possibly love a man with that past.

"I already do," I said, my voice low.

Nancy smiled, but her eyes were full of worry.

"Then hold on tight. Because this story is far from over."

Nancy and I had just finished our second glass of wine when our cell phone vibrated.

It was a text from Vincenzo.

I'm coming in. Wish me luck."

I showed the phone to Nancy, who rolled her eyes.

"Wish me luck"? It sounds like he's going to a job interview, not visit the ex-con who might have changed your fate.

"That's just the way he is." I smiled. "He always tries to seem in control."

"Men." Nancy snorted. "They never know how to deal with vulnerability. They think controlling the narrative solves everything."

"And sometimes... it does," I admitted. "Or at least he hides it well." — Do you want to be alone?

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to sink into the couch and sleep for a year. The other part wanted company. Noise. Anything to keep me from thinking.

— Stay a little longer — I asked. — At least until I can breathe properly.

Nancy nodded and settled in, pulling the blanket over her legs.

— I will. But you know that if this boy really exists... things will change, right?

— I know — I answered. — But I don't know how yet.

Sleep began to weigh heavily on my eyes. Nancy helped me up the stairs, insisting that I lie down and rest, even if only for a little.

— I'll keep an eye on everything. You can sleep.

I thanked her with a kiss on the cheek and went into the room. I threw myself on the bed still dressed, hugging a pillow as if it were an anchor.

Minutes later, the cell phone vibrated again.

It was Vincenzo.

\- He exists. His name is Rafael. Seven years. Verônica gave me the address. I'm coming back. We're going to talk about everything. I love you.

That last sentence disarmed me.

I love you.

Maybe love wouldn't solve everything. But at that moment, it was what kept me alive.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears wet the pillow.

Rafael.

Seven years.

Life would never be the same again.