“I am not here as a boss,” he said. “I am here as a father who has searched one hundred and twenty-seven neighborhoods. I am here as a husband who has slept alone for three hundred and sixty-five nights.”
Elena’s face flinched at the number.
Good.
Let it land.
“I am not asking you to come back for me,” he said. “I know I do not deserve that. I am asking you to let our son see my face for one week.”
“One week does not change your life.”
“No,” he said. “But it may change his.”
She did not answer.
“I will protect him.”
“That is what scares me, Alessandro.”
He bowed his head.
That hurt because it was fair.
Elena had left because his world had entered their nursery before he admitted it could. Men in black cars at the gate. Whispered names. Guards by the garden. Mateo learning to lower his voice when certain people visited. Elena had begged him to build a life where their son could be a child and not an heir.
He had promised he would change.
Then postponed change until danger made the decision without him.
“I will let him be normal,” he said. “Public school if you want it. Soccer. Neighbors. Birthday parties with bad cake. A teacher who calls me Mr. Moretti because she does not know any other reason to lower her voice.”
Elena looked at him for a long time.
Not forgiving.
Measuring.
