Grief
Valeria
I still have trouble believing it: Dante isn’t the father of Bianca’s baby.
Strangely, instead of the relief I should’ve felt, what I feel is concern.
For him.
I can see how torn he is—relieved that he’s no longer tied to Bianca for the next two decades, yet already attached to the child he believed was his.
Those two feelings exist side by side, refusing to reconcile.
He’s been very quiet since we got back. Sitting on the couch, staring off somewhere I can’t reach.
I let him.
He has something to grieve. That takes as long as it takes.
I’m still not going to tell him about our baby. The last thing I want is for him to hear this news as some kind of consolation prize—a child replacing another. When I tell him, that moment will belong only to us.
Not to Bianca’s shadow.
Dante finally stirs from his haze, lets out a long breath, and picks up his phone. His fingers move quickly across the screen. He scrolls through files before showing me what he’s about to post: scanned boarding passes, conception dates, medical margin of error.
Minimal. Surgical. Completely devoid of emotion.
The conclusion is obvious to anyone capable of reading a calendar.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him softly.
“Yes, I do. Otherwise she’ll twist the truth and find a way to make you responsible for all her misery. You know that as well as I do.”
He’s right.
I nod and he posts it.
Social media does the rest. Within hours, public opinion turns against Bianca with the same violence that supported her yesterday. I should probably feel guilty but all I feel is relief.
Dante wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“You don’t have to feel guilty. She’s the one who chose to expose all of this publicly. She thought she could use it against us.”
“I know.”
Deep down, none of this chaos really matters to me. The only thing that truly matters is that Dante isn’t the father of that child. That mine won’t have to share a father with the child of the woman who tried to kill me.
For the first time since I learned about Bianca’s pregnancy, I can finally breathe.
*
After dinner we go upstairs.
In the darkness, after making love, I remain curled up against him, listening to his breathing gradually settle.
I know he loves me.
I know he chooses me.
And yet, some nights, I still hate the fact that he shared his bed with her.
I think he’s asleep when he speaks.
“Bianca and I never had a romantic relationship in the true sense of the word.”
His voice is low. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with the late hour.
“After you disappeared, she used to come see me often to talk about you. For a few minutes, it felt as though you were coming back to me. I looked forward to those moments more than I should have.”
I say nothing. I let him continue.
“That’s how we got closer. One night, a little over a year after you disappeared, I’d had too much to drink. The next morning, I woke up with her in my bed. I barely remember anything.”
His arms tighten slightly around me.
“After that, things just… happened. It was easy. No expectations. I was just tired of being alone.”
My heart tightens.
“I never loved her the way I love you,” he says softly. “She knew that. I never lied to her about it.”
I close my eyes for a moment.
Suddenly, Bianca’s place in his life becomes painfully clear.
She hadn’t won his love.
She had simply filled the void I left behind.
“What about the wedding?”
His breath brushes against my hair.
“When she proposed... I didn’t really react. Without you, none of it mattered much anymore. And in a way...”
He hesitates.
“She was the last living connection I had to you. She knew you. She could tell me stories about you. It was probably selfish, but keeping her close made me feel like I was holding on to a part of you.”
“You gave her a sapphire just like the one you gave me.”
“It’s not what you think. She wandered into a jewelry store and picked out the ring herself. I thought it was strange that she wanted the same one, but she told me that this way, you would always be with us.”
“And the wedding date?”
“She said it was because of you that she had discovered what Christmas really meant, and that it had been one of the happiest days of her life.”
I’m stunned by the lengths she went to sink her claws into his life.
I imagine the patience with which she watched Dante over the years. Everything she learned about him. About us.
She knew exactly how to exploit every weakness with almost terrifying precision.
But she never understood the most important thing.
Love can’t be stolen. It’s built, through the simplest choices as much as the hardest ones.
I turn my head slightly. His gaze is lost in the darkness, and I recognize that expression. Loss. Despite everything he says, this has shaken him more deeply than he wants to admit.
I move closer and wrap my arms around him. He lets me without resistance.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
The silence stretches for a long time.
“I didn’t want that baby at first,” he finally admits. “It tied me to Bianca, and I hated that. But I got used to the idea. I started imagining a future with them.”
His voice barely cracks.
“And now I’m sad, it’s ridiculous.”
“No. You were attached to that child. That’s not ridiculous. It’s human.”
He closes his eyes. I slide a hand into his hair, and he pulls me closer with almost unconscious force, like he needs to make sure I’m really here.
And me, curled against him in the darkness, I think about our baby.
About the secret already growing between us—silent and patient.
A smile brushes my lips despite everything.
Soon.
Soon, I’ll tell him.