Chapter 34: Beneath the Armor

Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass. She could still feel the weight of Antonio's words lingering in the air, his confession of vulnerability seeping into her thoughts like ink into water. The way he had slurred the words, the bitterness in his voice, and yet, there had been something raw, something deeply human about it. He was so used to being cold, distant, a fortress of ice, but in those moments of drunkenness, his walls had crumbled—if only briefly—and she had seen him for who he truly was.

Her mind replayed his words, his tone, the despair that flickered in his eyes before he quickly masked it with anger and arrogance. She understood now, more than ever, why he was the way he was. Fear. That was it. Fear of being hurt again. Fear of losing someone else. He had loved Valentina so deeply, allowed himself to trust her completely, and she had shattered him. She had betrayed him in the most intimate way possible, and now, Antonio carried the scars of that betrayal, hidden deep beneath the armor he had constructed around himself. He was a man who couldn’t let anyone in, not after the hell he’d been through.

Isabella let out a soft sigh, her heart aching for him. How could she not? The man she had come to know—stoic, unyielding, and so determined to keep everyone at arm’s length—was a product of pain. It wasn’t just a defense mechanism. It was survival. She had witnessed it firsthand. The way he shut down, the way he pushed people away, the coldness that dripped from his every word when he wanted to avoid feeling anything.

She would heal him.

The thought solidified in her mind. There was no other option. He might try to reject her warmth, but she would give it to him anyway. He had already suffered too much, and she wasn’t going to let him drown in his own self-inflicted prison. He was not beyond saving, and for some reason, she believed that it was her—she—who could reach him. Slowly, but surely, she would break through.

The house was silent, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Isabella placed her glass down, wiped her hands on her jeans, and made her way to the kitchen. The night was heavy with thoughts, but there was no way she could sleep without trying to make sense of everything. What did she mean to him? Was she just the woman he had forced into a marriage for the sake of his son, or was there something more beneath all the aggression, the cold shoulders, and the guarded eyes?

---

Antonio leaned against the doorframe, watching her in silence. His eyes were heavy with the weight of his thoughts. The whiskey had worn off, leaving behind a haze of regret and longing that he couldn’t shake. He had pushed her away again, in every possible way. But even as he distanced himself, he couldn’t help but feel her presence like a beacon, a warmth he didn’t know how to fight.

He had tried so hard to keep his emotions at bay, to keep her at arm’s length. He knew better than to get attached to anyone, especially someone like her. Someone who had so much light in her, someone who could never possibly understand the darkness he carried. He couldn’t afford to let her get too close. She had already seen too much. She had seen him weak, vulnerable—pathetic.

But then, there were the moments where he found himself looking at her, really looking at her, and he saw something more than just the woman who had been thrust into his life. She was patient. She was kind. She cared. Too much, he thought. And that scared him more than he cared to admit.

---

"Isabella," his voice cut through the silence, low and rough. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain the mess inside his mind. All he knew was that when she was around, the walls seemed to grow thinner.

She turned, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked. There was a moment of understanding between them, something neither of them had to say aloud.

"Antonio, we need to talk." Her voice was soft, calm. But there was a firmness in her tone that told him she wasn’t going to back down.

He felt a flicker of frustration surge through him. “About what?” he asked, trying to sound dismissive, but it came out colder than he intended.

She shook her head, stepping closer. “About everything. About you. About us.”

Her words were like a whisper, but they struck deep inside him. He felt a tightening in his chest, a knot that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Us. He had never allowed anyone to be a part of his "us." It was always just him and Luca.

He glanced away, trying to avoid the vulnerability he could see reflected in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let this go. He knew that.

“You think you know me,” he said, his voice a mixture of bitterness and regret. “But you don’t. You don’t understand what it’s like to lose everything. To have your heart torn out and trampled on. To be made a fool of by someone you thought you could trust. No one understands that. Not even you.”

Isabella felt her heart break, but she didn’t let it show. “I’m not here to judge you, Antonio,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m here to help. To be there for you. I want to understand you. To understand  why you are the way you are.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. “You don’t need to understand me. All you need to know is that I’m broken, and I’m not fixable. So stop trying.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but she refused to back down. “You’re not broken, Antonio. You’re hurt. And it’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to have scars. But you don’t have to carry that alone. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The air between them crackled with tension, but Isabella stood her ground. She could see the turmoil in his eyes, the battle he was fighting within himself. She could feel the walls he had built up pressing down on her, trying to push her away. But she wasn’t going to let him.

He took a step forward, his face a mask of frustration. “You don’t get it. I can’t let you in. I can’t let anyone in. Not again. Not after everything.”

Isabella took a deep breath, gathering her strength. “I’m not here to hurt you, Antonio. I’m here to heal you. But you have to let me.”

His eyes softened for a brief moment before the coldness returned. He clenched his fists at his sides. “I can’t,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I can’t let you be my weakness.”

“Then what are you going to do?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Push me away forever? Live in that shell of a man you’ve created, just to avoid feeling anything?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The truth was, he was scared. Scared that if he allowed her in, she would break him all over again. But what terrified him more was the thought of losing her—the one thing in his life that hadn’t been tainted by betrayal.

---

Later that night, as he lay in bed, Antonio wrestled with his thoughts. He had never been good at this—at letting someone see the parts of him that had been buried for so long. The parts that still hurt, still ached. But there was something about Isabella. Something about the way she looked at him, like she saw the man he was beneath all the layers of anger and coldness.

She hadn’t run. She hadn’t turned away. And for the first time in years, he wondered if he could let her be the one to heal him. Or if he was destined to remain broken forever, afraid of the very thing that might save him.

Luca’s soft breathing from the next room only reminded him of what he had to protect—his son, the one person he couldn’t afford to fail. But maybe, just maybe, allowing Isabella into their lives wasn’t failure. Maybe it was the beginning of something new.

---

Isabella, on the other hand, lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Antonio was complicated. His pain was deep, and the walls he had built around himself were towering. But she had seen glimpses of the man he used to be, the man beneath the anger and distrust. She was determined to reach him, even if it meant facing his anger, his walls, and his fear.

She wouldn’t give up on him. Not when she knew he was worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, he would come to understand that love didn’t have to be a weakness. It could be the very thing that made him whole again.