A week later.
I stared blankly at the knitting basket resting at the foot of the rocking chair in the corner of the living room. That was where Alma had spent most of her pregnancy, knitting socks for Elio. She had complained endlessly, pricking her fingers all day long, yet she had never given up. After three months, she had managed to make something decent. It all felt like a distant memory now. My last memories of her. There would be no more. Everything seemed meaningless now, my only desire was to sleep until the end of time.
"Sanaa," a voice suddenly called, a hand settling on my shoulder. I blinked, pulling myself out of my daze, and turned toward the woman sitting beside me on my couch. Mine. Not Alma's and mine anymore. Just… mine now.
I looked at Sarah. Her graying brown hair was tied into a strict bun at the nape of her neck, and her face, marked with faint wrinkles, was dotted with freckles. Alma had freckles too. But not anymore. Sarah watched me with a frown, her hazel eyes filled with concern, and the sight of it turned my stomach. I didn't want her to worry about me. I didn't want pity. I refused it.
"Yes?" I replied, lifting my chin as she withdrew her hand with a soft sigh.
"We're ready. We can take him," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. I nodded, swallowing hard. My gaze shifted to Elio, who was playing with his favourite stuffed toy under the sharp watch of one of the women accompanying Sarah, a woman whose job was certainly not this.
"He… he'll be safe, right?" I asked, rising to my feet.
"Of course. We'll protect his identity, and he can even be adopted by a family in a few months," she reassured me.
I turned toward her, lips pressed tight. "So soon?"
"The sooner, the better. He's still young, it'll be good for him to bond quickly with a new maternal figure," she explained. My throat tightened. A new mother. So he would forget Alma.
"I suppose that's a good thing," I murmured, taking a breath. "He'll be safer if he knows nothing about where he comes from." Sarah nodded again as one of the men informed her that Elio's things were ready.
"Alright, let's go," she said, signalling to the woman watching him. The woman bent down, gently lifting Elio into her arms before heading toward the hallway. Elio began to squirm, and Sarah tried to put his jacket on him, but he wouldn't stop wriggling.
"Leave it. I'll do it," I said, taking the small blue jacket covered in stars, the one Alma had fallen in love with two months ago. We had been out shopping when she saw it in a window and pushed Elio's stroller inside so fast she nearly tipped it over. Idiot. I slipped the jacket onto Elio's small back. He let me, his blue eyes fixed on mine as he held out his stuffed toy.
"Nana… Nana," he called softly. I zipped his jacket all the way up to his chin so he wouldn't be cold. Then I stepped back, folding my arms as Sarah opened the front door.
"I'll call you to keep you updated—" she began, but I didn't hear the rest. All my attention was fixed on Elio, who was growing restless again in the woman's arms. He reached out for me, calling my name, his eyes shining. I pressed my lips together. This was better. I wasn't meant to raise a child. He wouldn't last long with me. This was for his own good. He would have a new family, a father, a mother.
A mother who wouldn't be Alma.
My nails dug into my arms through my sweatshirt, but I didn't react. I felt nothing. The woman carried Elio away, and soon he disappeared down the hallway, his cries echoing. Sarah gave me one last look before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone in my apartment.
I let out a long breath, exhaustion crashing over me. I turned toward my bedroom, intending to sleep, but my feet carried me elsewhere, to another room. The nursery. It was empty now. All the toys and clothes Alma had carefully bought were gone. And so was Elio.
The most precious thing my friend had ever had.
My gaze fell on the blanket still draped over the crib. I picked it up, its soft fabric warming my frozen fingers. It was his favorite. He could never sleep without it. I had given it to him, the first thing I had ever bought for him.
And he could never sleep without it.
My body, numb for a week, suddenly jolted to life as if struck by lightning.
I rushed out of the apartment and into the stairwell, taking the steps four at a time. I burst into the underground parking lot, breathless, and my eyes locked onto the van heading toward the exit.
"Wait!" I shouted, running diagonally across its path, my bare feet slamming against the cold concrete. My breath came out in white clouds. "Wait!" I planted myself in front of the vehicle. It screeched to a halt, tires screaming against the ground.
I rushed to the side as Sarah threw open the door, her eyes wide. Elio's cries filled the car as he struggled in his seat, his tear-filled gaze meeting mine before he reached out.
"Nana! Nana!" he sobbed, tears mixing with his runny nose. His blue eyes, just like his mother's, clung to mine.
"Sanaa? What's going on?" Sarah asked, stepping out, but I didn't look away from him.
"You… you forgot this," I said, holding up the blanket, trying to steady my breathing.
"God, Sanaa, you scared me to death," she sighed, reaching out for it. But my arm didn't move. My gaze stayed locked on Alma's son. Alma's son. My friend's son. My sister's son.
"Nana…"
"Give him to me," I whispered, the words slipping out on their own.
"I'm sorry? What did you say?" Sarah asked, tilting her head.
Slowly, my mind came back online. My thoughts aligned. My body warmed. And I made the most important decision of my life.
"Give him to me. I'll raise him."
"Sanaa… don't let your emotions take over," Sarah said gently, placing a hand on my arm. "Raising a child isn't easy, and we both know it's not what you want." I held her gaze, absorbing her words. Was she right ? Was I ready to raise a baby? A child? A teenager? No.
But as Alma had said before giving birth, no one was ever ready. You just took the responsibility and did your best. And that's what I would do. For Alma. For Elio.
So a son would not forget his mother.
Determined, I opened my mouth to explain…then I froze.
Old reflexes flickered back to life in my mind, reflexes I hadn't used in years, buried beneath engines and grease. I took a step back, analyzing Sarah's posture, her breathing, the tension in her body. She was uncomfortable. My gaze shifted to the woman beside Elio, her dark eyes locked on me. Then to Elio. To his nose. A nose that had nothing to do with Alma's. A nose like his father's. And suddenly, I understood the mistake I had nearly made.
Elio wasn't just Alma's son. He was also Massimo Salvatore's. The new Capo of the Italian mafia. What better leverage than his own son?
I turned back to Sarah, fists clenched, stepping closer until we were nearly chest to chest.
"I won't let you use him in your power games," I hissed. She straightened, studying me.
"You were always so perceptive, Sanaa. Such a good asset. "I never understood why you gave up," she replied calmly. I ignored her words. I was so fucking furious. And vulnerable. Betrayed.
But worst of all, I had betrayed. I had betrayed my friend's greatest treasure.
My hands trembling, I grabbed her jacket and slammed her against the car letting the blanket drop. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her people move, but she stopped them with a gesture.
"Give him back to me," I snarled, jaw tight. "Or I swear on Alma's grave, none of you will leave this parking lot alive." I shook her, my rage spilling through my eyes. "You know I'm capable of it. You know what I can do," I whispered, leaning closer, tightening my grip.
Elio's cries echoed around us as Sarah stared at me for a long moment, her gaze sweeping over my body, lingering briefly on my bare feet before returning to my face. Then, slowly, she took hold of my wrists and pried my hands off her.
"Unbuckle him," she ordered and I stepped back, wiping away a stray tear. The woman next to Elio obeyed, lifting him from his seat and handing him to me. I took him, and his arms wrapped tightly around my neck. So tight that my heart, one I thought no longer existed tightened painfully.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I'm sorry Elio," I murmured, holding him close as he sobbed into my neck. I kissed his head again and again, breathing in his scent. "I'm sorry," I repeated.
To Elio.
To Alma.
"Go back upstairs, Sanaa. You'll catch a cold barefoot. We'll bring his things up," Sarah sighed. I looked at her over Elio's head and she simply shook hers. I said nothing. I wrapped Elio in his blanket and turned toward the elevators.
"So it's really her?" the woman behind Sarah asked. I didn't hear Sarah's answer. The elevator doors closed, and my gaze fell on my reflection in the mirror.
On my reflection—and Elio's, already dozing against my shoulder.
I was Sanaa.
Just Sanaa and from now on, I would live for Elio.