Chapter 37: Mending the bridges.

Antonio stood at the entrance of the house, his hand gripping the door handle as he stared into the quiet darkness that stretched beyond. The cool night air brushed against his skin, but it did little to cool the tempest inside his chest. He had taken a walk to clear his mind, to sort through the knots of conflicting emotions that twisted inside him. But even now, as he stepped into the familiar hallway, he couldn't shake the unease.

His eyes scanned the room, and there, as unexpected as it was, Isabella sat in the dim light of the living room. She hadn’t gone to bed. Her head was tilted slightly, eyes glued to the book in her hands, though it seemed she wasn’t really reading. Her stillness caught his attention more than anything. She was waiting. For him.

It irritated him. Why was she still up? Didn’t she know how fragile his world was? Didn’t she understand how dangerous it could be to stay so close to a man like him, a man who had been torn apart by his own demons?

Yet, as he walked toward her, all of that seemed to melt away, just for a moment. There she was—so calm, so patient. And despite everything, despite the way he’d been pulling away, she still waited for him.

Antonio stood in the doorway of the living room, watching her for a long moment. He should’ve just gone to his room, shut the door, and left her to her thoughts. But something tugged at him, an invisible thread that connected him to her. His chest tightened, and his mind scrambled, unsure of what to do with the feelings bubbling beneath the surface.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Antonio’s voice broke through the silence, a bit harsher than he meant it to sound.

Isabella’s head snapped up, her gaze meeting his with that same softness she always carried, like she wasn’t afraid of him, like she wasn’t afraid of the man who had spent months trying to shut her out. She slowly set the book down, her fingers lingering on the pages for a moment before she looked up at him.

“I was waiting for you,” she replied quietly, the words carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air between them. “Is everything okay?”

Antonio didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, staring at her with a mixture of confusion and something softer—something that looked a lot like longing. He didn’t know how to talk to her like this. He didn’t know how to explain himself. The words were tangled in his throat, and the longer he stood there, the harder it was to find them.

“Everything’s fine,” he muttered after a beat, though he knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t fine at all. He was lost—lost in his own fears, lost in the pull between wanting to protect her, wanting to push her away, and yet, needing her in ways he couldn’t understand.

Isabella studied him carefully, her eyes never leaving his. “Antonio...” She said his name as if she understood, as if she saw the turmoil inside him.

Her voice was gentle, inviting him to speak, to open up. But he wasn’t sure he could. Not yet. He wasn’t sure he knew how to.

“Do you ever feel like…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the words. “Like you’re stuck between two sides of yourself?” Antonio’s hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Like you want to protect the people you love, but the more you try, the more you end up pushing them away?”

Isabella watched him carefully, her expression softening. “I think that’s something a lot of people feel,” she said quietly. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Antonio’s eyes flickered to hers, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. He felt the rawness in her words, in the way she looked at him. She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of his flaws, of the pieces of him he had hidden for so long.

“But I’m not sure how to stop it,” he whispered, his voice rougher than usual. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her any of this, why he was letting his guard down just a little. But he couldn’t help it. He was tired. He was tired of pretending to be this invincible man, the one who had it all under control. Because the truth was, he didn’t.

“Luca…” He paused, swallowing hard. “I can’t stand the idea of failing him. I can’t bear the thought of losing him, of not being able to protect him from the world. And you… You’re here, and I…”

Isabella’s breath caught in her chest. He was vulnerable now, his harsh exterior falling away just a little, enough for her to see the man underneath, the man who had been broken. She didn’t move, didn’t interrupt him, knowing that he needed to speak, to get the words out, even if it hurt him.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Isabella said again, more firmly this time. “You don’t have to protect everyone by yourself. It’s okay to lean on someone else.”

Antonio’s eyes flickered to her face, and for the briefest of moments, he looked unsure—like he wanted to let go, to reach for her, but couldn’t. His eyes hardened again, and he shook his head as if trying to shake off his own vulnerability.

“I don’t know how,” he muttered, taking a step back, distancing himself again, though it was a futile gesture. His emotions were too raw, too exposed. It wasn’t like him to feel this way, to let someone see his weakness.

Isabella stood up slowly, walking toward him, her steps measured but full of resolve. She didn’t give him a chance to back away this time. She placed her hand gently on his arm, her touch warm, reassuring. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

Antonio’s throat tightened at her words, the raw emotion in her voice almost too much to bear. She was offering him something he didn’t know how to accept—something real, something untainted. And he didn’t know if he could let himself have it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the warmth of her touch, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel the weight of everything he had been carrying.

“I’m scared,” he admitted in a low voice. “I’m scared of trusting again. Scared that I’ll lose everything. I’ve already lost so much.”

Isabella’s heart clenched at his confession. She could see the battle in his eyes, the tug of war between wanting to love and be loved, and wanting to shut it all down before it could hurt him.

“You don’t have to trust everything at once,” she said softly. “But you can trust me. And you can trust Luca. We’re here, Antonio. You’re not alone.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he was trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I don’t know if I’m capable of being the man you want me to be,” he muttered.

Isabella didn’t hesitate. “I’m not asking you to be anything other than who you are. I’m here, Antonio. No matter what.”

For a long moment, they stood there in the quiet, the air between them thick with unspoken words, with emotions that neither of them knew how to fully express. Antonio could feel the warmth of her touch on his arm, the steady presence of her near him. And despite himself, despite all his fears, he allowed himself to feel the pull toward her. He had spent so long building walls, afraid of being hurt again, that he had forgotten what it was like to feel cared for.

And as he stood there, with her hand resting on him, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to fight it anymore.