I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. Raffaele's side was untouched, the sheets undisturbed, which could only mean one thing: he hadn’t returned last night. He must have slept somewhere else.

To my surprise, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. After everything that happened, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to face him. Even though it’s been nearly thirteen years, the fear I felt last night was disturbingly familiar—the same fear that monster that my father brought left behind. The way Raffaele gripped my arm triggered something raw and terrifying. It was eerily reminiscent of Salvatore’s hold on me that awful night. The surge of panic that coursed through me at Raffaele’s touch was nauseating. I shouldn’t have felt that kind of fear—especially not from him, my husband, and not from something as simple as him grabbing my arm.

I waited until I was sure both Raffaele and Michael had left the house before heading downstairs. The kitchen was quiet except for the gentle clink of a spoon against a mug. There, perched on a stool, was Christina, lost in thought as she sipped her hot chocolate. I snuck up behind her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Where’s my dear sister lost this morning?" I teased, tapping her temple lightly.

She jumped a little, then let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. “Andrea,” she breathed, turning to smile at me. “You’re finally awake. I made some coffee for you, just the way you like it. I have so much to tell you!” She pointed toward the coffee maker, the enthusiasm in her voice unmistakable.

“Why, thank you, love.” I poured myself a cup and settled onto the stool beside her. “I have plenty to tell you too, but you go first.”

She spun on her seat to face me fully, her grin stretching even wider. “Michael finally kissed me!” she blurted out, her excitement bubbling over. I couldn’t help but grin in return, feeling a similar surge of happiness for her.

“Really? How was it?” I asked, knowing how long she’d been waiting for this. From the moment we arrived here, she’d been stealing glances at him and blushing every time he so much as teased her.

“It was… amazing,” she breathed, her eyes alight with joy. “I forgot about everything else the moment his lips touched mine. He was so passionate, yet so careful. He even told me I could set the pace.” She shook her head, still caught in the memory. “I was terrified to ask him, you know? I kept thinking he’d reject me, that he’d want someone else, like all those other men who keep mistresses because their wives aren’t enough. But he—he actually wants me.”

Her happiness was contagious, but before I could respond, she leaned closer, her expression expectant. “Enough about me. What about you? Did anything happen between you and Raffaele?”

I sighed, feeling the smile slip from my face. “Nope.” I drew out the word with a deliberate pop of my lips. “After you left yesterday, I stayed back to finish our run. Gabrielle decided to join me for the last few rounds, but he made the mistake of sneaking up on me in the dark.”

Christina’s grin faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Oh no…”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, my instincts kicked in. Before I even registered who it was, I had him slammed up against a tree, restrained.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Andrea!”

“Of course, I let him go the second I realized it was him. But not before I left a bruise on his cheek.” I looked down at my coffee, the guilt settling in like a weight. “I apologized, of course, but… it shouldn’t have happened. My fucked up brain keeps registering everyone as a threat.”

“Is he okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, he’s fine. But Raffaele saw the bruise and freaked out. He grabbed me by the arm, slammed me into a wall, and started demanding answers.” I lifted my sleeve to show her the darkening bruise, the shape of his fingers still visible against my skin. “And just like that, his touch felt exactly like his—like that monster’s. Panic set in, and before I knew what I was doing, I kicked him in the groin and threatened to rip his arm out if he laid a hand on me again.”

I glanced up at her then, expecting shock or horror. But Christina’s expression flickered between concern and something akin to admiration.

“What the hell, Andrea,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I mean, your reaction was understandable. He crossed a line. But you’re telling me this now—after letting me ramble on about my kiss with Michael? And Michael didn’t even say a word this morning, not even when he kissed me goodbye.”

“It wasn’t his story to tell,” I said gently. “He tried to step in last night, but Raffaele was too far gone, too caught up in his anger.” I reached out, squishing her cheeks gently to stop her from pouting. “And, Christina, I want to hear about everything. You deserve to be happy, to share those moments with me. I’ll always listen to you. And I hope you’ll do the same for me.”

Her face softened, and she placed a hand over mine. “I always will. But—did you speak to Raffaele after?”

“No. He didn’t come back to our room last night. Probably found somewhere else to sleep. I’ve been avoiding him all morning, honestly.”

“Are you okay, though?” she pressed, her voice gentle. “I know you like to downplay things, but I can tell this brought up a lot for you. Tell me if there’s anything I can do. We can even leave if he's hurting you.” Christina gently traced the bruise on my arm.

I leaned forward, resting my head on her shoulder, the familiar comfort of her presence easing some of the tension coiled tight in my chest. “I’m fine now. Thank you, sister." I then pulled back and grinned. "I'm sure I left him equally sore, so no worries.”

She let out a bell like laugh and I joined in.

No matter what happens, no matter how chaotic things get, we’ll always have each other. That’s the only thing I’m sure of. The only thing I need.