Chapter 22: Reflection and Regret

The light from the dim overhead lamp cast long shadows on the polished floor, making the living room feel both smaller and more suffocating. Antonio sat back in his chair, his large hands casually holding a fork, but his mind was elsewhere. His son, Luca, sat on the floor in front of him, playing with his toy cars, laughing quietly as he moved them across the rug. The boy’s innocent giggles, the sound of a child untouched by the world’s harsh realities, only deepened the silence that filled the room. Antonio had long grown used to the weight of that silence. It was the silence of a man who had built an empire of fear and power, a silence that carried the weight of every bad decision, every lie, every broken relationship.

As Luca continued to play, Antonio’s thoughts wandered to Isabella. She had made a light meal—pasta, a simple dish—something quick to ease the tension, to calm him down. But it wasn’t the meal that lingered in his mind. It was the way she had silently accepted everything. The way she had taken the punishment for his mistakes. Isabella had kept her head down, didn’t argue or fight back. She didn’t ask for more. And that, in itself, made Antonio wonder—was she truly as broken as he had hoped? Or was she just playing her part in this twisted game of his?

Antonio’s gaze shifted from Luca to the empty seat across from him. Isabella had decided to eat alone in her room. She’d been quiet since the incident earlier, and though Antonio had softened toward his son, his anger still simmered beneath the surface. He had punished Isabella without thinking—spanked her, yelled at her, all because of the way his anger had boiled over after the failed business deal. He could justify it in his own mind, telling himself that she needed to understand the consequences of living in his world, but deep down, Antonio knew that wasn’t the real reason.

The truth was, he was angry at her for reasons beyond her control. He was angry at her because she reminded him of Valentina. His ex-wife. The woman who had shattered his heart and taken everything from him. She had played the role of a perfect wife, at least at first. She had been beautiful, graceful, and utterly naive—until she showed him the other side. The side that wanted control, the side that betrayed him with his closest friends. Valentina had broken him in ways that still haunted him, and now Isabella, innocent and sweet as she was, reminded him of the worst of it.

Antonio set his fork down, the pasta forgotten as his thoughts spiraled further. Was I punishing Isabella for what Valentina did?

The question gnawed at him, the sharp edges of doubt cutting through his anger. He had married Isabella out of a twisted sense of duty and control. His son had taken a liking to her, and she was, in his mind, an innocent pawn in the game of power he had been playing for years. But now, looking at his son—seeing how much Luca adored her—he was forced to face a harsh reality. He wasn’t breaking Isabella the way he had intended. She wasn’t bending to his will the way Valentina had. Isabella was different. She was stubborn in a way that Valentina hadn’t been. She didn’t ask for this life, yet she was enduring it with quiet grace. She was trying, as best as she could, to be a part of Luca’s life, to ease the tension that had taken over their home.

But was it enough?

Antonio’s thoughts turned to his past. His relationship with Valentina hadn’t always been like this. They had once been in love, or so he thought. They had shared moments of happiness, before the lies had come. Before the betrayal had shattered the foundation of their marriage.

Valentina had made him believe in love. She had made him think that love could conquer all, that it could shield them from the cruelty of the world. But when she had destroyed that trust, when she had betrayed him in the most intimate ways, it had broken something inside him. His heart, once capable of love, had turned cold. The walls around it had grown high, unbreachable. And when Isabella had entered his life, with her naïve, trusting eyes, he had thought maybe, just maybe, she could be something he could control, something he could bend to his will.

But now, looking at her in the way she silently endured his cruelty, Antonio couldn’t help but question everything. Was he truly breaking her, or was he just breaking himself? Was he projecting his bitterness, his anger at Valentina, onto this woman who had done nothing wrong? Isabella was no more responsible for his heartbreak than Luca was. She was just a woman trying to survive in a world she had never chosen, and Antonio was making her pay for sins she had no part in.

What am I doing? Antonio thought, rubbing his temples. Isabella doesn’t deserve this. She never asked for any of it.

The anger that had once fueled his decisions now seemed misplaced. It was as if he had forgotten what it felt like to care for someone. To want to protect them instead of controlling them. He had thought forcing Isabella into submission, into his world of power and control, would give him what he needed. He thought he could fix his broken heart by destroying hers. But in doing so, he had only made himself feel more empty.

The sound of Luca’s laughter broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. The child was still playing with his cars, but Antonio’s mind was far from the game. His son’s innocent joy reminded him of everything he had lost, of everything he had failed to protect. He had promised to be a better father. He had promised to shield Luca from the harshness of the world. But the more Antonio tried to control his life, the more he seemed to lose grip of what really mattered.

He stood up suddenly, startling Luca. The little boy looked up at him, confused, his toy cars momentarily forgotten. Antonio softened, kneeling down in front of Luca, the urge to protect him overtaking everything else.

“Luca,” he said gently, his voice strained, “I’m sorry for raising my voice earlier. I should’ve been better. I should’ve been calmer. You didn’t deserve that.”

Luca’s eyes softened, the innocent trust still there, as if nothing had happened. The child didn’t hold grudges. He forgave easily.

“I know, papa,” Luca replied with a small, understanding smile.

Antonio smiled faintly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’re a good boy, Luca. And I’ll do better. I promise.”

The words felt empty, hollow in his own ears. He couldn’t promise to fix everything. He couldn’t promise to be the perfect father. But he could try. He could be better. For Luca’s sake.

As Antonio stood up and began walking toward the kitchen, he heard Isabella moving around in her room. Her presence weighed on him, a constant reminder of his mistakes. He had hurt her. He had punished her for being a part of a world she didn’t understand. He had seen her innocence as weakness, but it wasn’t. It was something pure. Something he had lost long ago.

He stood outside her door for a moment, hearing her soft movements inside. She was probably sitting at her desk, reading or writing something to pass the time. Or maybe she was staring out the window, lost in thoughts of her own. Either way, she was waiting for him to come in. Waiting for him to do something, anything, to prove he wasn’t the monster he had become.

Antonio hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to take back every harsh word he had thrown at her. But he wasn’t sure he could do that without revealing just how lost he had become.

“Isabella?” he called softly, his voice uncertain.

There was a brief pause before she answered, her voice quiet but steady. “Yes?”

“I... I just wanted to make sure you ate,” he said, his words not coming out as smoothly as he intended. “I know I... I wasn’t easy on you earlier. But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Antonio felt a pit grow in his stomach, unsure of what Isabella would say, if she would even respond.

Finally, she spoke. “I’m fine, Antonio. I’ve eaten.” Her voice was calm, distant even, and it hurt him more than if she had screamed at him. She was resigned to it. Resigned to the world he had forced her into.

Antonio swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Isabella... I—”

“I know,” she interrupted softly, her voice carrying an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “You don’t need to explain. Just... just don’t do it again.”

Her words stung, but they were also a reminder of how far he had fallen. She wasn’t asking for anything from him, not anymore. She had given up on the hope that he could change.

Antonio stood there for a long time, his hand still on the doorknob, not knowing what to say. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. He didn’t need to explain himself. He just needed to show her that he could be different. That he could be the man he used to be. For her. For Luca.

But as he stood there, he realized one undeniable truth: the hardest part wasn’t asking for forgiveness. It was truly earning it.

And he had a long way to go.