Page 50 of The Don's Eternal Vows

As night descends, I return to her room, a tray of food in my hands. “Just in case you’re hungry.”

She's curled up in bed, staring out the window. I set the tray aside and sat on the bed beside her.

"Tell me about it," I say softly, keeping my voice steady despite the churning in my gut. "What you experienced... it might help to talk."

Genoveva's gaze remains fixed on the distant city lights. "There are no words, Gianni. None that you'd understand."

I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. "Try me. I've seen things in this life that would turn most men's hair white."

A humorless laugh escapes her lips. "This wasn't life, Gianni. It was... something else entirely."

The tension in the room is palpable, pressing down on us like a physical weight. I want to reach out, to hold her, to somehow bridge this chasm between us. But I know, deep in my bones, that one wrong move could shatter everything.

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to push harder. My heart aches to see her like this, so close yet unreachable. I've faced down rival families and negotiated impossible deals, but this... this feels like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

"Genoveva," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm here. Can’t you see? I’m here. What do you need, my love?”

She turns to me, her hazel eyes hollow. The sight sends a chill down my spine. This isn't my Genoveva, not the fierce, calculating woman I've known all my life. It's as if something vital has been stripped away.

"You can't fix this, Gianni," she murmurs. "Some things... some experiences... they change you. Irrevocably."

I lean back, running a hand through my hair. "Irrevocably is too final,” I growl, unable to hold back. “The only thing irrevocable is this love we share. You protected me once, remember? Let me return the favor. Let me help you."

A ghost of a smile flickers across her face, gone in an instant. She shifts on the bed, her body mere inches from mine. The proximity is intoxicating, but the emotional distance might as well be miles.

"Hold me," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I comply, wrapping my arms around her. She's so fragile, so unlike the pillar of strength I've always known—the contrast tears at my heart.

"I'm scared, Gianni," she confesses into my chest. "Scared of what I've become."

I tighten my grip, wishing I could shield her from whatever horrors she's faced. "You're still you, cara mia. It's still my Genoveva. We'll figure this out, I swear it."

I watch Genoveva's chest rise and fall, her eyes fluttering beneath closed lids. Sleep eludes her, and I can't help but wonder what nightmares lurk behind those delicate eyelashes. My fingers itch to trace the curve of her cheek, to offer somecomfort, but I resist. She needs to rest more than my touch right now.

The room is bathed in silvery moonlight, casting long shadows across the floor. I force myself to stay awake, my eyes darting between Genoveva and the door. Old habits die hard, and the need to protect her is ingrained in my very bones.

"Sleep, cara mia," I whisper, though I know she can't hear me. "I'll keep watch."

Hours pass, each minute stretching into eternity. My eyelids grow heavy, the weight of the day pressing down on me. I fight it, but eventually, exhaustion wins out. My last conscious thought is of Genoveva, hoping that in sleep, she finds some peace.

I jolt awake, disoriented. The room is still dark, but something has changed. Genoveva is sitting up, her silhouette stark against the window. When her eyes meet mine, they are bottomless pools of sorrow.

"Genoveva?" I murmur, reaching for her.

She doesn't flinch away, but her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper. "It's like I've forgotten what it is to live."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I struggle to breathe, to form a response. "What do you mean?"

She turns to me, her face a mask of anguish. "Everything feels... muted. Distant. Like I'm watching the world through thick glass. I can see it, Gianni, but I can't feel it. Not really."

I pull her close, feeling her heartbeat against my chest. "Then we'll remind you," I vow, my voice rough with emotion. "Every day, if that's what it takes. You haven't forgotten, Genoveva. You've just... misplaced it for a while."

She doesn't respond, but her fingers curl into my shirt, holding on tight. It's not much, but it's a start. And for now, in the quiet darkness of our room, it's enough.

Chapter 23

Gianni

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