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I wish I could let someone in, share my burden, but it's difficult to trust anyone in this world. Even Stefano.
I pull out a photo of my father from my purse, tracing the contours of his face with my fingertips. "Papa," I whisper, choking back tears. "How am I supposed to do this without you?"
But there's no answer, only silence pressing down on me like a heavyweight.
I force myself to focus on breathing, in and out, trying to steady my racing heart. And I continue to wear this mask of politeness, even if it suffocates me, because it's the only way I know how to survive in this new reality.
The darkness of the room envelops me as I lie in bed, motionless. My body feels heavy, sinking into the mattress, and my eyelids refuse to lift. A thick layer of dust coats the furniture, reflecting my own state of neglect. The smell of stale air lingers around me, suffocating me with its oppressive weight.
"Isabella?" Stefano's voice floats through the door, warm and concerned. I hear the soft creak of hinges when he enters the room. "It's getting late and you haven't called for dinner. Are you not feeling well?"
"I'm fine," I mutter, but my voice is barely a whisper, devoid of conviction.
Stefano doesn't believe me, and neither do I.
"Let me help you up," he says gently, sliding his arm under my shoulders and lifting me into a sitting position.
His touch is tender, careful not to hurt me, but even his kindness feels like a burden I can't bear.
"Thanks," I force out, my eyes finally meeting his. They're filled with worry, a dark storm cloud brewing just beneath the surface. But I don't have the energy to reassure him, to offer any comfort.
"Have you eaten anything today?" he asks, glancing at the untouched tray of food from lunch on the side table.
I shake my head, my stomach churning at the mere thought of it. "Not hungry."
"Isabella, you need to take care of yourself. You can't keep going like this," Stefano urges, his voice tinged with desperation.
"You're right," I fake a small smile, but my words feel hollow. The will to take action, to fight against anything, for myself, has lost hold.
"Please, Isabella" Stefano implores, his hand squeezing mine. "You must take care of yourself."
"I'll try, I promise," I whisper, but even as the words leave my lips, I wonder if they hold any truth. Can I really find the strength to crawl out of this emotionless state?
"Why don't you eat now?"
"Sure," I say in a flat voice, not wanting to come across as ungrateful.
I reach for the tray, but Stefano stops me.
"Let's get you something fresh. This is stale now," he frowns.
Stefano rings for dinner.
The sound of Stefano's footsteps echoes through the room as he paces back and forth, waiting for the kitchen to send up a new plate. I watch him from my bed, feeling nothing but emptiness inside. Earlier, I would have told him I'm capable of feeding myself.
Now, I don't even fight his presence. Every gesture, every word, seems to require a monumental effort, like I'm a marionette with tangled strings, struggling to move. So, it's better not to move at all.
Dinner arrives and I take the tray, in bed.
Stefano stops pacing and sits down on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his. "Isabella, please. Talk to me. I'm worried."
I hesitate, unsure if I even have the words to express the chaos that churns inside me. But Stefano's dark eyes are pleading, and I know he genuinely wants to help. So I take a deep breath and begin.
"Life haunts me. My father, gone in an instant. Killed by god knows who. The person I trusted with my life keeps me alive, but prisoner. You tell me I can't lie here all day. Where should I go? I'm not allowed out of the room. There's only so much books and television can do for a person. Right now, I'm the loneliest person in the world."
My words tumble out, raw and unfiltered, the darkness that has consumed me finally given voice.
"Isabella..." Stefano says gently, clearly unsettled by my confession. "Tragedy is a part of life but we can't let it paralyze us. You must remember that there's light at the end of the tunnel."
