Chapter Six: The Unasked Questions

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the mansion in a quiet twilight. The large windows of the living room framed the darkened cityscape, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floors. Antonio sat in his favorite armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, the rich amber liquid swirling slowly as he stared out into the night. The weight of the world rested heavily on his shoulders, but in this moment, the stillness was both a blessing and a curse.

His son, Luca, was playing quietly on the floor, stacking colorful blocks in neat little rows. The innocent joy in the child's movements was like a balm to Antonio's often jagged soul. Despite everything that had happened in his life—the betrayals, the bloodshed, the heartbreak—Luca was the one thing that made him feel grounded. He was the one light in a world that had grown dark and cynical.

Antonio had become accustomed to the silence that often filled the house. His thoughts were usually loud enough to drown out the quiet, but tonight, as he watched Luca with a rare softness in his gaze, a feeling of emptiness lingered in the air. The weight of his own thoughts pressed down on him, and he took another sip from his glass, the burn of alcohol a fleeting distraction.

Luca, unaware of the weight in the room, continued to play, his small fingers working diligently to build his little tower. It was a game they played often, Antonio watching as Luca built and knocked down his creations, the little boy fascinated by the simple joy of making something only to destroy it and start again. Antonio had always admired that about his son—the way he could find wonder in the most ordinary things. The world hadn’t yet been cruel to Luca, and Antonio prayed that it would stay that way for as long as possible.

Then, without warning, Luca looked up from his blocks and asked a question that caught Antonio completely off guard.

“Daddy?” Luca’s voice was soft, uncertain, the kind of voice that betrayed the curiosity of a child trying to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Antonio blinked, his eyes shifting from his son’s small face to the block tower that had been knocked down once again. "Hmm?" he replied, his voice low, gruff, his attention still half on Luca, half on his swirling thoughts.

Luca’s innocent eyes were fixed on him, his brow furrowed slightly as if trying to find the right words. He opened his mouth, paused, and then, as if the question had been growing inside him for some time, he spoke again, his words cutting through the quiet room like a sharp blade.

“Where’s my mommy?” Luca asked, his tiny voice small and uncertain.

Antonio’s heart stopped for a moment. The glass in his hand suddenly felt heavy, his fingers tightening around it as if to hold onto something—anything—that would keep him grounded in the face of this question. He had prepared for many things in his life—betrayals, enemies, the cold, hard truth of his world—but this... this was something he hadn’t been ready for.

Luca, sensing his father’s silence, continued to fidget with his blocks, oblivious to the storm raging inside Antonio. "I see them in books," Luca said quietly, his eyes still focused on the scattered blocks. "I see mommy and daddy in the stories. They both love their babies, right? But… but I only have you, Daddy. Where’s my mommy?"

The simplicity of the question tore through Antonio like a blade, and for a long moment, he said nothing. How was he supposed to answer? How could he explain the emptiness, the brokenness, to a child who hadn’t yet even fully grasped what family was? How could he tell Luca that his mother had left them both, that Valentina had walked away from the life they had built, leaving nothing behind but pain and betrayal?

It wasn’t just the weight of the question that unsettled him. It was the innocence in Luca’s eyes—the genuine, untainted curiosity of a child who had been raised in a world where love should be simple, where families were whole. Luca’s world was still one of light, one where there was no reason to question the presence of a mother and father.

But Antonio's world… Antonio’s world had been broken, shattered by a woman who had once vowed to stand by his side forever. And now, that brokenness had infected the innocence of his son’s childhood.

"Where’s my mommy?" Luca repeated, this time with more insistence in his voice, his little hands now fiddling nervously with the blocks.

Antonio felt the familiar tightness in his chest, the same suffocating sensation that had come upon him the day Valentina had left. He had told himself he would never let Luca feel the pain he had suffered, that he would shield his son from the harsh realities of the world. But how could he shield him from this?

Luca’s eyes were wide with confusion, his face too young to understand the depths of the question he had just asked. Antonio sighed deeply, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to find the right words. Words that wouldn’t break his son’s heart.

"Your mommy…" Antonio began, his voice low, unsure of how to proceed. He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. He had always been a man of action, decisive, calculating. But when it came to his son, he found himself stumbling, unsure of the right path to take. "Your mommy… she’s not here right now."

Luca’s face fell slightly, but he didn’t speak. Antonio continued, his voice softening as he tried to find a way to make sense of the situation for his son.

"She… she had to leave a long time ago, Luca," Antonio said, his words heavy, his throat tight as the memories of his failed marriage resurfaced. "And she’s not coming back."

Luca’s little face scrunched up as if trying to understand, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked up at his father, his eyes searching for an explanation, a reason for why his world wasn’t like the stories he had read or the shows he had seen.

"But why?" Luca’s voice was small, almost pleading. "Why doesn’t she want to be with me? Why isn’t she here? She’s supposed to be with us, right? Like in the stories."

The question struck Antonio harder than anything had in years. The innocence of Luca’s words, his simple, childlike understanding of love, collided with the reality Antonio had been living for years. The truth—the ugly, painful truth—was that Valentina had chosen to leave them, to leave him and their child behind. It had never been about Luca. It had always been about her own desires, her own selfish choices. But how could he explain that to his son? How could he tell him that the woman who was supposed to love him, to protect him, had walked away?

Antonio clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the glass once more. He knew he had to say something. He couldn’t leave Luca hanging on this question, couldn’t let the child think that his mother had simply disappeared without reason.

"Sometimes," Antonio said slowly, the words coming out in a way that felt foreign, like they didn’t quite belong to him. "Sometimes people… they make choices that don’t always make sense. Your mommy made a choice to leave, and that’s something we can’t change."

Luca stared at him, his little face now shadowed with confusion, trying to piece together the pieces of his broken reality. "But why did she leave?" Luca asked again, his voice softer now, almost too quiet for Antonio to hear.

Antonio didn’t answer right away. How could he? What could he say that would make any sense to a child so young? His world had been one of betrayal, of secrets, of lies that had ripped apart the foundation of everything he thought he knew. But none of that would make sense to Luca. All he knew was that his mommy was gone, and he didn’t understand why.

"Your mommy left because… because she wasn’t happy here," Antonio said finally, his voice rough, the weight of his own hurt pushing through. "But that’s not your fault, Luca. Never think it’s your fault."

Luca didn’t respond immediately, his small face now turned downward in thought. His tiny hands were still resting on the blocks, but they no longer seemed interested in playing. He was deep in thought, processing the answer in a way only a child could.

"You still love me, right, Daddy?" Luca asked suddenly, his voice hesitant, as though testing the waters.

Antonio’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He had never doubted his love for Luca. In a world that had offered him nothing but pain and betrayal, his son was the one pure thing in it all. He had vowed to protect him, to be the father that Valentina had never allowed him to be. But to hear the question come from Luca’s lips—soft and uncertain—made Antonio realize just how much his son had already absorbed of the world around him.

"I love you more than anything, Luca," Antonio replied, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re the most important thing in my life. And nothing will ever change that."

Luca looked up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was fragile, like the hope in his heart that had been dashed by the absence of his mother. For a moment, Antonio wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, that one day, things would make sense. But he couldn’t promise that.

All he could promise was that he would be there for Luca, always. And that, despite everything, he would do his best to shield him from the harsh

truths of the world.

For now, that was enough.