I can't meet his eyes. How can I tell him what I hear? "I... It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
As we walk out of the forest towards Gianni's car waiting by the edge of the tree line, a voice swirls in the wind, barely audible yet unmistakable. "Come back," it seems to whisper, carrying a weight of longing and sorrow that sends shivers down my spine.
I halt in my steps, glancing back at the river. The water glistens under the sunlight, but beneath its serene surface lies a world I never thought I would escape.
Fear grips me, cold and unyielding. The pull of the underworld tugs at my very soul, threatening to drag me under. I take a shaky step backward.
Gianni moves swiftly, positioning himself between me and the forest's edge. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine. “Genoveva, what is it?”
I stare at his outstretched hand, scarred and calloused. It represents everything – trust, love, a future I never dared hope for. But can I truly have it?
"I'm not whole," I whisper, my voice breaking. "What if I drain you? Pull you into darkness?"
Gianni doesn't waver. "Then we'll face it together. I'm not letting you go, not again."
I take Gianni's hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. The moment our fingers intertwine, a surge of strength courses through me. I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with newfound resolve.
"Let's go," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
We turn away from the river, from the siren call of the underworld. Each step feels like a battle, but Gianni's grip anchors me to this world. The forest seems to thin as we move, sunlight breaking through the canopy above.
"You know," I say, trying to lighten the mood, "I never thought I'd be grateful for your stubbornness."
Gianni chuckles a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "It has its uses."
I steal a glance at him, marveling at the way the dappled sunlight plays across his features. "What now?" I ask, the question hanging heavy between us.
He squeezes my hand. "Now, we live. We fight. This is our brand new start."
Chapter 22
Gianni
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I flick my eyes to the dashboard. The digital clock blinks at 6:43 PM, October 15th. My stomach churns. It's around the same time and exact date as when I first entered the forest. How long were we really gone? It’s as though time itself came to a standstill.
"Genoveva," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Do you see-"
But she doesn't respond. Her gaze is fixed out the passenger window, her profile etched in the moonlight. The silence between us stretches, heavy and oppressive.
I clear my throat. "Are you cold? I can turn up the heat."
Nothing. Not even a blink.
My mind races, searching for the right words. "I know it's a lot to process. Coming back, I mean. If you want to talk about it..."
Genoveva's lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. She closes them again, a small furrow appearing between her brows.
I want to reach out and touch her hand, but something holds me back. The distance between us feels insurmountable.
"Remember that time in Capri?" I say, desperate to break through. "When we snuck onto that yacht and-"
"Please," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I can't... not now."
I nod, swallowing hard. The road stretches endlessly before us, dark and empty. Just like the void, I feel growing in my chest.
Soon, we approach our sprawling estate. The wrought-iron gates loom ahead, and I can already picture the curious eyes of the house staff, their whispers echoing through the halls. Not tonight. Not when Genoveva's so fragile. There will be questions I don’t have answers to.
How can I explain that my wife was dead but now walks beside me? No. For now, I must keep her hidden until we find answers to impossible questions.