Chapter Nine: The Weight of Innocence

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of Luca’s footsteps as he walked through the hallway. Antonio sat at his desk, papers scattered around him, his mind a maze of calculations and decisions, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the brief encounter at the event—an encounter that should have been nothing more than a passing moment in time. Yet, it lingered in his mind like a faint scent, subtle but persistent. Isabella's smile, her laughter, her kindness.

Luca had asked about her every day since that night. It wasn’t surprising. His son had always been curious, always quick to latch onto anything that sparked his interest. But it was more than that, Antonio realized. Luca wasn’t just fascinated by her. He was drawn to her in a way that made Antonio uncomfortable—almost like he was trying to fill a void in his life that Antonio wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

"Daddy, when can we see Miss Isabella again?" Luca had asked that morning, his innocent eyes staring up at him as they sat at the breakfast table.

Antonio had barely looked up from his coffee, the cup resting in his hands as if it were an anchor. He took a slow sip, his gaze fixed on the black liquid. "We don’t need to see her again, Luca," he replied, his voice colder than he intended.

Luca’s small brow furrowed in confusion, his lips pursing in the way they always did when he was thinking hard about something. "But she’s nice," he said, his voice filled with the simplicity that only a child could possess. "She was so pretty. She made me laugh."

Antonio felt a knot tighten in his chest, but he refused to let it show. He set the cup down slowly, his fingers curling into the smooth ceramic as he forced himself to meet Luca’s gaze. “We don’t need to talk about her anymore, Luca. There are other things to think about.”

Luca’s lower lip poked out in a pout, and Antonio could see the wheels turning in his son’s mind. He was just a child—too young to understand the complexities of life, too innocent to grasp the harsh realities that Antonio had spent years building around them. He’d been careful to protect Luca from the world’s dangers, from the betrayals and broken promises that had left Antonio jaded, mistrustful, and scarred. But Luca didn’t know that. To him, the world was still full of possibilities, full of kindness and warmth.

"She said she liked me," Luca pressed, his voice soft and unsure, as if he were testing the waters. "She smiled at me. You always tell me that people smile at you when they like you."

Antonio’s jaw clenched at the thought of his son repeating the words of a woman he barely knew. The idea of Isabella getting too close to Luca, of him growing attached to her in a way that would leave him vulnerable, made his stomach churn. But he couldn’t explain it to Luca—not yet. Not in a way that would make sense to a child who still believed in fairy tales, in happy endings, in the simple truth that people who smiled at you meant no harm.

"I’m sure she was just being nice," Antonio finally said, his voice softer, but his tone firm. “But you don’t need to keep thinking about her, okay? Let’s focus on something else.”

Luca’s eyes dropped to his plate, his small fingers tracing the edge of his toast, but Antonio could see the confusion still in his eyes. He knew his son. Knew that Luca wasn’t going to drop it so easily.

And he didn’t.

For days after that, Luca brought her up again and again—each time in a new, innocent way. The next day it was, “Daddy, what do you think Miss Isabella would like for her birthday?” And then, “Do you think Miss Isabella likes ice cream? She didn’t eat any at the party. I think she likes chocolate like me.”

The constant mention of Isabella began to grate on Antonio’s nerves. His thoughts became tangled, the simple presence of his son’s innocent questions stirring up a conflict he hadn’t expected. He had always been the type to keep his emotions in check, to keep things close to the chest, never letting anyone—especially women—get too close. But now, he was struggling to reconcile the father who wanted to protect his son from a world that had hurt him, with the man who couldn’t stop thinking about the very woman who seemed to pull his son’s heart in a direction Antonio didn’t want.

His anger flared when Luca casually mentioned Isabella again a few days later, after Antonio had just returned from another business trip.

“Daddy,” Luca called from the living room, his voice muffled by the walls as Antonio stood in the hallway, weary from the long journey. “Miss Isabella’s really nice. Can we go see her?”

Antonio froze. He had been prepared to put all thoughts of Isabella out of his mind—just like he had done with his ex-wife, just like he had done with everything that had ever tried to break through the walls he’d built around himself. But hearing his son speak so freely of her, as though she were a permanent fixture in their lives, sent a wave of unease crashing through him.

“No,” he replied sharply, his voice carrying a coldness he hadn’t meant to let slip. “I’ve told you, Luca. There’s no need to see her again.”

Luca’s voice dropped, the usual cheerfulness gone. “But why, Daddy?” he asked, his tone small, uncertain. “She was nice to me.”

Antonio’s heart clenched at the sound of his son’s voice. It was the kind of question he would have expected from a stranger, not his own son. But Luca wasn’t a stranger. He was his flesh and blood—the only person Antonio had ever truly cared for. And yet, in that moment, Antonio felt a pang of fear. The kind of fear he hadn’t experienced in years.

Luca’s innocence, his complete trust in people, was something Antonio had never had. It was a luxury he had lost long ago, when life had taught him that people—especially women—could be just as dangerous as they were beautiful. He had been betrayed, broken, and left alone to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. And yet here was his son, so full of life and hope, asking questions Antonio couldn’t answer without shattering the very world Luca had built in his mind.

The days that followed were filled with tension—Antonio’s attempts to divert Luca’s attention to other things, to distract him from the idea of Isabella, only seemed to deepen the boy’s curiosity. It was as if Luca could sense that his father was hiding something, that there was more to the story than Antonio was willing to share.

One afternoon, while they were sitting in the living room, Luca finally broke the silence. He had been quiet for most of the day, a rare occurrence for a child as lively as him.

“Daddy,” Luca said softly, his voice filled with hesitation. “Do you like Miss Isabella?”

Antonio’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at his son, the question lingering in the air like a dark cloud. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t thought for a second that Luca would be able to sense the connection, the pull, the confusion that Antonio was battling deep within himself.

“I… I don’t know,” Antonio muttered, his voice distant, conflicted. The words felt foreign on his tongue. He had never allowed himself to entertain the thought of liking someone again—not after Valentina, not after everything that had happened. But Luca’s innocent question pierced through his defenses in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

“Is she gonna be our friend?” Luca asked, his voice quiet but full of hope.

Antonio closed his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist. It was easier to say no. Easier to shut Luca’s innocence out and keep him safe from the world that had destroyed Antonio’s faith in everything. But when he looked at his son, the trust in his eyes, the need for connection—it shattered something inside Antonio.

“I don’t know, Luca,” he said softly, his voice breaking with a vulnerability he hadn’t shown in years. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Luca seemed to accept this, his small face still puzzled but resigned. “It’s okay, Daddy,” he said, his voice full of the unspoken belief that his father always knew what was best. “I like her.”

Antonio turned away, his chest tight, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His son’s innocence was both a gift and a curse, and he couldn’t protect him from the world forever. But the thought of Isabella becoming a part of their lives, of his son growing attached to her, filled him with a sense of dread.

Antonio had promised himself he would never let another woman get close. But the pull of Luca’s desire for connection, for love, was a force he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew one thing for sure—his son was no longer a child who would easily forget. The question was, could Antonio trust Isabella, or would he protect Luca from a world he still didn’t understand?