The morning was quiet inside Alessandro's mansion, softened by the warm sunlight slipping through the curtains. I was still lying beside Alessandro when my phone vibrated against the bedside table.
I glanced at the screen.
Mateo Cortez.
For a second, I just stared at it.
My father rarely called me first.
Alessandro noticed the shift in my expression immediately. "Who is it?"
I picked up the phone slowly. "My father."
One of his brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing as I answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Sofia."
His voice sounded calmer than usual, almost careful, like he had spent time thinking about what he wanted to say before calling.
"Good morning," I replied quietly.
There was a brief pause before he spoke again.
"I was hoping you and your husband could come over today."
That caught me off guard.
I sat up slightly against the bed. "Today?"
"Yes," he answered. "It's been a while, and… I'd like to see you."
The hesitation in his voice was subtle, but I noticed it immediately.
My father was not a man who hesitated often.
I glanced briefly at Alessandro before speaking again. "I'll talk to him about it."
"You're both welcome here," he continued. "I'll have everything prepared."
Another short silence followed before he added more quietly, "I know things between us haven't always been good, Sofia. I'm trying to change that."
Something in my chest tightened unexpectedly.
For years, I had wanted to hear words like that from him. Now that they were finally coming, I didn't fully know what to do with them.
"We'll come," I said softly.
His voice relaxed slightly. "Good. I'll see you both later."
The call ended shortly after.
I lowered the phone slowly, still staring at the screen for a moment before setting it aside.
Alessandro was watching me carefully.
"What did he want?"
"He invited us over."
"To his mansion?"
I nodded once.
Alessandro leaned back slightly against the headboard, studying me for a second before speaking again. "And how do you feel about that?"
I exhaled softly.
"I don't know."
That was the truth.
Part of me still remembered every cold look, every harsh word, every moment I spent feeling unwanted in that house. But another part of me could see the effort Mateo was making now, awkward as it was.
"He's trying," I admitted quietly.
Alessandro reached for my hand, his thumb brushing slowly across my fingers.
"Then we'll go."
I looked at him. "Just like that?"
"You want to give him a chance."
It wasn't a question.
I stayed quiet for a moment before nodding faintly.
"Maybe."
A small smile touched his lips. "Then we'll go."
I smiled slightly before resting against him again, allowing the warmth of his body to calm the thoughts slowly building in my head.
Miles away, Mateo Cortez lowered his phone and stood from his chair.
For the first time in years, he felt nervous about seeing his own daughter.
He walked toward the dining room where his wife was already seated with a cup of coffee in front of her.
"They're coming over today," he said.
She looked up immediately. "Sofia?"
"Yes. Her and her husband."
The woman forced a small smile. "That's nice."
Mateo noticed the insincerity instantly but ignored it.
"I want the house prepared properly," he continued. "Everything cleaned. And prepare the meals Sofia likes."
His wife's expression shifted slightly.
"You suddenly remember what she likes?"
Mateo's jaw tightened faintly.
"I made mistakes with my daughter," he said calmly. "I'm trying to fix them."
Silence settled briefly across the room.
His wife lowered her cup slowly, masking the irritation building inside her.
For years, Sofia had been treated like an outsider in that house, and Mateo had allowed it. Now suddenly everything was changing, and she hated how easily his attention had shifted.
"I'll make sure everything is ready," she replied smoothly.
Mateo gave a small nod.
"I don't want any tension when she arrives."
Without waiting for another response, he turned and walked away.
The moment he disappeared from the dining room, the softness vanished from his wife's face completely.
One of her daughters entered moments later and immediately noticed the expression on her mother's face.
"What happened?"
Her mother let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"Your father suddenly remembered he has another daughter."
Alessandro was lying beside me comfortably, one arm beneath his head, watching me with that calm expression that somehow always made the rest of the world feel distant.
"You were staring at me?" I asked.
A faint smile touched his lips. "Maybe."
I shook my head lightly, smiling despite myself before moving closer to him, resting my head against his chest.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It was peaceful.
The kind of peace I had started craving more and more lately.
"I've been thinking about something," I said quietly.
Alessandro looked down at me. "What?"
I traced my fingers slowly against his chest before answering.
"What if one day we leave all this behind?"
His brows lifted slightly.
"The business?" he asked.
"Everything," I replied softly. "The danger. The family drama. The constant problems."
He stayed quiet, listening carefully.
"I think I'd want somewhere far away," I continued. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere nobody can reach us."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"And what exactly does this imaginary place look like?"
I smiled slightly, already picturing it in my head.
"A big house," I said. "Not too modern. Somewhere surrounded by trees. Maybe near water."
Alessandro watched me with amusement in his eyes as I kept talking.
"I'd want animals too," I added. "A small farm. Horses maybe. Dogs. Chickens."
He laughed softly.
"Chickens?"
"Yes," I defended immediately. "And maybe a garden."
"You've thought about this a lot."
"I have."
He brushed a hand gently through my hair.
"And where do I fit into all this?"
I tilted my head slightly to look at him.
"You'd be there."
"That's good to know."
I smiled softly before my expression relaxed again.
"And maybe…" I paused briefly, "a child."
That made him look at me properly.
"A child?" he repeated.
I nodded carefully. "Maybe one day."
His hand moved slowly along my back.
"One day," he agreed calmly, "but not now."
I raised a brow slightly. "Why not?"
"Because I'm still enjoying having my wife to myself."
I laughed quietly.
"You make a child sound like an intruder."
"They are intruders," he replied seriously. "Small, loud intruders."
I hit his chest lightly, laughing again.
"That's terrible."
"I'm honest."
I shook my head, smiling as I settled closer against him again.
"What if it's a girl?" I asked softly.
Alessandro was quiet for a moment before answering.
"She'd look like you."
"And if it's a boy?"
His expression shifted slightly, something thoughtful settling into it.
"Then I'll teach him how to stay out of trouble."
"That's impossible in this family."
"That's true."
The words were light, but both of us understood the deeper meaning behind them.
Silence settled again after that, softer this time.
I listened quietly to his heartbeat beneath my ear while his fingers continued moving absentmindedly through my hair.
And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to imagine what peace would actually feel like.
His chest rose and fell slowly beneath my cheek, steady like a rhythm I could fall asleep to if I let myself.
For a while, I almost did.
Then his voice broke through the quiet again, softer than before.
"You really think a place like that exists?" he asked.
I turned my face slightly against him. "Why wouldn't it?"
He didn't answer immediately. I felt his fingers pause for a second in my hair, like the question had pulled him somewhere far away.
"People like us," he said finally, "don't really get to disappear."
I lifted my head just enough to look at him. His expression wasn't cold, not exactly—but it carried something heavier. Something he rarely let show.
"I don't believe that," I said quietly.
A faint, almost tired smile touched his lips. "You're lucky, then."
"I'm not lucky," I replied. "I just still believe we can choose something different."
His eyes held mine for a moment longer than usual, like he was studying that belief in me the way you study something you don't fully understand.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"And if choosing something different means everything else catches up to us?"
I hesitated.
That question didn't have an easy answer. Not in our world. Not with everything we were tied to.
But I still didn't look away.
"Then we deal with it," I said simply.
A silence followed.
Not heavy this time—just thoughtful.
Alessandro shifted slightly, pulling me closer until my head was fully back against his chest again. His arm tightened around me in a quiet, protective hold.
"You talk like it's that simple," he murmured.
"It could be," I said. "If we stop making it complicated."
A soft breath left him, almost like a quiet laugh that never fully formed.
"You're dangerous," he said.
I frowned slightly. "How?"
"Because you make me want things I shouldn't want."
That made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't quite explain.
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I listened again to his heartbeat, steady but just a little faster now.
Outside the room, the world was still what it was—messy, loud, complicated.
But here, under his arm, it felt far away enough to pretend.
"Maybe," I said finally, "you already wanted them. I just said them out loud."
I shifted slightly against him, letting the thought settle properly in my head before I spoke again.
"We should get up," I said softly.
Alessandro hummed faintly, still holding me like he had no intention of moving. "That sounds like a problem."
I smiled and poked his chest lightly. "It is a problem. We have things to do today."
That finally made him open his eyes a bit more, watching me with mild reluctance.
"Things like what?" he asked.
I tilted my head. "Like remembering we're not actually on a vacation."
That earned a low chuckle from him.
I pushed myself up slightly, breaking the comfort of his arms. "And," I added, "we have an invitation to my father's place."
At that, his expression shifted just a little—still calm, but more alert.
"Today?" he asked.
"Yes. Today."
A brief pause followed, then he exhaled and sat up with me, running a hand through his hair. "Your father never picks quiet days, does he?"
I raised a brow. "You're just noticing?"
That made him look at me again, and I could tell he was already accepting it even if he didn't say it out loud.
"Alright," he said. "We'll go."
"Good," I replied, standing up fully now. "And we need to get ready."
He watched me for a second longer, then stood as well, closing the small distance between us again like it was natural. "Together?" he asked, a faint teasing edge in his voice.
I glanced at him. "Don't start."
But I was already smiling.
The bathroom filled with warm steam as we stepped inside together, the outside world temporarily shut out behind the door. There was no rush between us—just that easy familiarity, like even silence didn't feel awkward anymore.
Water ran gently as we moved under it, sharing the space without words, occasionally brushing past each other, exchanging small glances that said more than conversation needed to.
At some point, laughter slipped in between us when he tried to reach for the soap and I deliberately moved it away from him.
"Are you always like this?" he asked, watching me.
"Like what?"
"Annoyingly confident."
I smiled. "Only with you."
That made his expression soften in a way he didn't comment on.
When they were finally done, the world outside felt a little more real again—but still calmer than before.
Downstairs, the house already carried the scent of breakfast.
One of the maids had arranged everything neatly, clearly following instructions given earlier by Sophia's aunt. The table was set with care, warm food waiting as if the house itself had been anticipating them.
As they entered the dining area, I paused slightly, taking it in.
"She really didn't let us go hungry," I murmured.
Alessandro glanced at the table. "Your aunt plans better than most generals."
I let out a small laugh.
We both moved to sit, the atmosphere shifting into something softer again—domestic, grounded, almost normal.
For a brief moment, it almost felt like the life I had been talking about earlier wasn't just something imagined.
Just something delayed.