82 | It will be a tough road, but not a dead end
I leave my latest session with Dr. Navarro, the weight of her PTSD and BPD tests settling over me like stones, but not crushing like I thought they'd be.
We spent the hour digging deeper, answering questions about my triggers, my moods, my past, and though my chest is raw from peeling back those layers, I feel... lighter, like I've let some of the poison out.
Dr. Navarro said we'll have answers next session, a clearer picture of what I'm facing, but even if it's BPD, even if it's both, she promised healing's possible.
It will be a tough road but not a dead end.
I wander through the mansion, its marble halls colder than Sicily's warmth until I reach Luciano's office, drawn to him like a moth to flame.
The door's ajar and I slip inside, settling on the leather sofa by the window.
Luciano's at his desk, papers scattered, his dark hair falling over his brow as he works, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp with a focus that's both beautiful and dangerous.
He's planning something, something big, something deadly. I can feel it in the air, thick with intent, and it stirs a mix of awe and unease in me, because this is him, my husband, a man who'd tear the world apart for me.
I curl my legs under me, my gaze tracing him, the way his dark shirt stretches over his shoulders, the glint of his ring matching mine.
He hasn't noticed me yet, too lost in whatever he's plotting, and I let myself watch, let myself love him.
But curiosity tugs, and I can't stay quiet.
"What are you doing?" I ask, cutting through the silence.
He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, they soften, a flicker of warmth that's just for me.
"Digging up a grave," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Or rather, having people dig up a grave for me."
My brows lift in surprise because it's not what I expected, though with him, I should know better.
"Whose grave?" I ask.
He leans back in his chair, his gaze holding mine, calculating, like he's weighing how much to share.
"An enemy," he says, his voice final.
I tilt my head, a small smile tugging at my lips, because I know this game, he's trying to protect me from something or someone.
"Do they owe you money or something?" I ask, teasing, but my eyes search his, looking for the truth he's hiding.
He smirks, a flash of amusement breaking through, and it's like the sun piercing a storm, making my heart skip.
"Something like that," he says, his voice smoother now, but it's a dodge, and we both know it.
He stands, crossing the room in a few strides, and drops onto the sofa beside me, his arm draping over the back, his fingers brushing my shoulder, possessive.
I lean into him, my head resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.
"You don't have to hide it," I say, my hand finding his, lacing our fingers. "Whatever you're doing, I know it's for me, for us."
He tenses, just for a moment before relaxing.
"I know, but you should focus on therapy," he murmurs, his voice thick with love and I believe him because he's my shield, the man who'd dig up the earth to keep me safe.
"So, how was your session today?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with concern.
I pause for a moment, letting the question settle.
"Heavy," I admit, my voice quiet. "Dr. Navarro ran some tests about PTSD and BPD. It felt like digging through old wounds, pulling things out I didn't even realize were still buried. But... it didn't break me. It just made me feel tired... But not in a bad way."
His eyes soften as he cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.
"You carry more than most ever could," he tells me, "You're fighting, Aurelia, and I'm so fucking proud. I'm here, every step, no matter what."
His faith in me wraps around my heart. I lean into him, kissing him, letting my love and trust speak louder than words ever could.
He kisses me back, hungry like he's drinking me in.
But the truth lingers, someone's out there, haunting me, and Luciano is digging, hunting, planning something dangerous to end it.
I don't ask whose grave he's digging because I trust him, trust that whatever he's doing, it's for me, for the life we're building.
I pull back, resting my forehead against his, breathing in the scent of him.
"Promise me you'll be careful with whatever you are doing," I plead, searching his face. "Because I've finally found peace in you, and the thought of losing that... losing you... it terrifies me."
He lift his head up and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I don't care if I bleed. I don't care if I burn. I'll crawl through hell and slit every throat if that's what it takes to get back to you."
"You say you'll crawl through hell to get back to me?
" I whisper, my fingers clutching his shirt, my heart thundering.
"Then know this, I'll be waiting for you.
I won't run. I won't hide. I'll burn right alongside you if I have to.
Just don't die, Luciano. Live. Fight. Come back to me. "
He doesn't answer. He just kisses me again like a man already in the fire.