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Because I finally understand she isn’t refusing to help him.

She can’t.

Nobody can.

Fear crashes into me like a wave hitting the shore, coating my whole body in cold sweat as the truth I’ve been fighting finally gets through.

I can’t do this.

I can’t do this.

God, please, I can’t do this.

***

The antibiotics work.

Enough that two days later, Damiano is awake when I walk into the room.

Really awake.

His eyes are clear, his smile is there, and for the first time in days, I let myself breathe.

“Hey, beautiful.”

My chest tightens as I cross the room in seconds and throw my arms around him.

He laughs softly. “Careful, Vita.”

I don’t care. I kiss his cheek, his forehead, his mouth, anywhere I can reach because he’s awake and he’s here, and for two days I was terrified he wouldn’t be.

“I missed you.”

“I was sleeping, not dead.”

The joke lands between us like a grenade.

Neither of us laughs.

His smile fades first, then mine, and a heavy silence settles over the room.

Damiano notices it immediately.

His eyes move around the room, taking in my parents, his parents, Chiara and Nonna.

Everyone is here.

Watching.

Waiting.

His brow furrows before he looks back at me. “I think I’m doing better, Vita.”

Hope. That stupid lying bitch of a sentiment.

God, there is so much hope in his voice.

“So when do they start chemo again?” Damiano asks, looking around the room.