[REWRITTEN]

Over two weeks since their return to America, Liliana found herself staring forlornly our the passenger window of the D'Onofrio's black town car, as she and Marcello were chauffeured to an appointment with Dr. Isaac. Today would be her first ultrasound.

Marcello had organised the entire thing. Much to her surprise, he had stuck to his word, and stayed with her in the house for most days while he recovered. But, lately he had seemed restless, if not a little distant, and Liliana knew that he would return to his usual daily routine soon, despite having not yet healed fully. He still winced with every movement, no matter how much he wished to ignore it.

His refusal to acknowledge his own injuries infuriated Liliana. She knew the only reason he had stayed in the manor for so long, was for her benefit, and not his own. She had been a mess when Marcello had joined her in their room that first night back.

She had been curled in their bed, the bed sheets crumpled around her, sobbing; Barbato's gift, the tiny baby shoes clutched between stiff fingers. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been crying about. After the events of that day it seemed naïve to pin her break down to an individual cause. She remembered feeling so overwhelmed, so out of control and lost, that all she could do to process everything was cry, and cry, and cry until there were no more tears left to shed.

Mercello had wasted no time in joining her, laying down in the bed and sweeping her into his arms so that she could lean against his uninjured side and sob against his chest. It was only after five minutes of almost silence between them that she realised her husband was crying too.

He did not sob like she did, did not make any sounds at all. Marcello simply laid their in quietly, holding her in his arms as his eyes flooded with tears. Their mutual break down had not been acknowledged since, but the concern they had for one another ever since, was obvious. She saw every worried glance he directed her way, when he thought she didn't notice.

"We're here," Marcello murmured softly, breaking her from her thoughts. Liliana only nodded, moving to open the car door. A hand on her forearm had her pausing, but she didn't turn to face Marcello. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Liliana cleared her throat, blinking heavily to ward off the burning of her eyes, "Just... just not sure I'm ready for this."

Marcello said nothing else, but once they had stepped out of the car, she noted his hard expression as he took her hand and led her into the building.

The two of them spent half an hour with Dr. Isaac and his associate whom conducted the ultrasound. Liliana had remained quiet through most of the appointment while Marcello and the doctor talked about her health, the pregnancy, and any changes that needed to be made to her diet and lifestyle. She barely registered any of the information. It all seemed so surreal to her.

When she thought of her pregnancy, of the ultrasound, when she first heard that strong heartbeat from the baby growing inside her, she could only feel numb. She hadn't looked at she screen of the ultrasound for longer than a few seconds. When the doctor had printed out the small blurred image, Marcello had been the one to take it from him.

Marcello seemed to take it all in with confidence. He didn't seem as overwhelmed as she felt, as if the pregnancy didn't terrify him like it did her.

***

That afternoon, Sophia had paid a visit to the manor to keep Liliana company while Marcello had disappeared into his home office. She had arrived straight from her classes, clearly eager to see her despite the sombre expression on her face. Sophia had been the first one Liliana had called upon her return to America, breaking the news of Barbato's death, and Liliana knew Sophia had taken the death hard.

Now, the two of them had spent the past three hours barely talking as they both pretended to watch whatever film was playing on the television.

"What's going on?" Sophia asked abruptly, eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

Liliana had yet to tell her the news of her pregnancy. She had yet to tell anyone, other than those she had been forced to. The more people she told, after all, the more inescapable this situation became.

"I have some news..." Liliana trailed off, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Her hands shifted in her lap, grabbing nervously at the lose material of her trousers. Sophia paused the film, turning to face her, and offering Liliana her full attention.

"Okay..." Sophia trailed softly, looking rightfully worried, waiting for her to continue. When Liliana said nothing more, Sophia asked, "Is something happening with you and Marcello? Is it your dad? Your family in Italy?"

Liliana pursed her lips, cursing herself as those stupid tears of hers burned at the corners of her eyes. When they began to fall, wetting her flushed cheeks, Liliana forced herself to utter, "I'm pregnant."

There was a long pause and for a horrible second, Liliana thought Sophia wasn't going to respond. Or that, like Giovanni, her friend would simply get up and leave the room.

"Okay," Sophia repeated, seeming at a loss for words. She blew out a big breath, nodding slowly as if unable to process the news. "Okay."

Liliana's hands clenched tighter in her lap, creasing the one smooth material. She shifted in her seat, pulling her knees to her chest, hoping to quell the sudden queasiness that plagued her.

"And... this is a bad thing?" Sophia questioned warily.

"I don't know," Liliana confessed honestly, with a shaky voice. She was crying now from frustration; she was frustrated with herself because she couldn't work out her own emotions and opinions, and frustrated with the situation altogether.

"Maybe this will bring you two closer," Sophia said, thought it was clear her words were forced. Liliana shook her head vehemently.

"Things had only just started to shift between me and Marcello, and now with this, and Barbato, I feel like we're stuck in a some strange limbo where neither of us knows where to step around one another. We haven't even had enough time to work through our problems."

"It's understandable to feel overwhelmed by this, it doesn't mean what you're doing is the wrong decision," Sophia reasoned. Liliana didn't even know what she was doing, other than existing, waiting for each day to pass at an agonising pace. "Have you spoken to your doctor about this? Stress is more common than you think in pregnancy. And especially after such a traumatic event, you're bound to be processing everything differently. You're still grieving, it's to be expected to feel this way, but your doctor can help."

"I don't want to talk to him and have him tell Marcello everything we speak about, and I don't want Marcello to worry more than he should."

"He'd be more worried if you weren't talking to the doctor about this. You're not... you're not thinking about ending the pregnancy, are you?" There was something in Sophia's tone that made Liliana believe she would be judged if she did; something that she wasn't comfortable with. Sophia wasn't one to force her beliefs and opinions onto others.

"No, that isn't an option for me," Liliana stated firmly, once again surprised by how little Sophia understood the rules of this mafia lifestyle. She couldn't divorce, and she certainly couldn't abort any pregnancy. "Though since our talk I don't think Marcello actually wants a child either."

"I think you might regret it."

Liliana paused. Sophia's statement seemed certain and she tried to assess what it was her friend wasn't saying.

"Are you speaking from experience?"

It felt intrusive to ask, she didn't want to pry or force Sophia to confess something she wasn't ready to but whatever it was, was clearly influencing Sophia's advice. Liliana knew very little about Sophia's past relationships, only that her and Giovanni had been together and that it had ended leaving both of them wary around each other.

"Not quite," Sophia uttered, biting at her lip as she watched Liliana for a reaction. When Liliana gave none, Sophia was turning away, attempting to hide the tears that were now collecting in the corner of her eyes.

"I, uh," Sophia stuttered. She blew out a long breath, laughing to herself, "Wow, this is harder than I thought."

"You don't have to tell me," Liliana assured. Sophia only shook her head, seeming adamant.

"When I was eighteen, I was pregnant, and I had a miscarriage."

Liliana didn't know what to say, whether she was meant to comfort Sophia or give her space should she wish to say more. She certainly felt like an awful friend for discussing her pregnancy to Sophia.

"I, uh, didn't cope well afterwards. I broke up with Gio pretty soon after, and we haven't spoken about it since. I haven't spoken much about it with anyone."

"Are you..." Liliana's tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, scrambling for the right words. "Are you ok-"

"Sorry," Sophia cut off, "I know I brought it up, but I'd rather not talk about it right now. The more pressing issue is your situation."

Liliana grabbed Sophia's hand in hers tightly, drawing her friends tearful gaze back to her.

"You're important to me, Soph, and I really appreciate everything you've done for me so far. I don't want you to ever think your pain is secondary to mine."

"I didn't mean that," she tried to dismiss, "just that my issues are in the past. This was years ago, your issues are happening right now."

"That doesn't make your issues any less valid. We're always talking about me, I want you to vent to me too, to feel comfortable to share any of your problems if you need to."

"Thank you," Sophia uttered softly, smiling ever so slightly. "I really do think you should talk to your doctor though, and that you and Marcello should keep talking through everything. That's something me and Gio failed at."

"I know you're right," Liliana agreed, already nodding. "It's just daunting, being open like that, being vulnerable with people... I don't like it."

"That's understandable, you haven't exactly had a good history of trustworthy people in your life." She paused, fixing me with an empathetic gaze. "How are you both coping with Barbato's death?"

"How are you coping? He was your uncle." Liliana deflected. Sophia only shrugged.

"They're having a funeral here for him in a few days," Sophia informed her quietly, picking at non-existent lint on her shirt. "He's been buried in Italy already, in the town he grew up, but... but a lot of his men wanted a chance to say goodbye too. He may have had his enemies, but a lot of people did love him."

***

It was late when Liliana went in search of her husband. Sophia had left just an hour ago and Liliana had spent that time readying for bed. But when it became apparent that Marcello was not about to join her, she had no choice but to seek him out.

"Marcello?" Liliana whispered into the dark room of his office. He was sat at his desk, only a dim lamp to illuminate the room. She could barely make out his hunched form, shrouded in the darkness. What she could see clearly was the half empty glass clutched in his hand and the nearly empty bottle that accompanied it.

On his desk lay the small 'Congratulations' card they had been anonymously sent and beside one of the ultrasound pictures they had received today. It looked as if he had been studying it.

This was the first time she had seen him with a drink all week, and Liliana found herself hesitating in the doorway of the room, unsure if she should intrude. He looked so defeated, with his shoulders slumped and his head stooped low.

"Why are you still with me?" He grunted gruffly. She saw him shift, his head lifting to spear her with a dark expression. His cheeks looked wet under the dim light, his eyes tinged red. He looked broken.

Liliana felt something tighten in her chest, unease creeping into her. Her voice caught as she asked, "What's wrong?"

With her fingers still clenched around the door handle, as if it were her anchor, Liliana's breath wavered. Marcello's head stopped once again as he ran his hands through his hair and pulled harshly at it in frustration - pulling so hard she was sure it hurt.

"Why are you still with me?" Marcello repeated hoarsely, emotion welling in his voice. "I've been horrible to you. You shouldn't have forgiven me so easily, you shouldn't want to stay with me. Everything that's happening right now, everything that's going wrong is my fault."

"We've talk about this... What's brought this on?" Liliana asked, mouth flattening as she eyed the ultrasound picture once again, the anonymous taunt and the bottle of whisky. It seemed fairly obvious to her what had prompted this.

"My theory is Stockholm syndrome," Mercello drawled with a dry chuckle devoid of humour. She couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. He swirled his glass, the whisky in danger from spilling but he didn't seem to care. His eyes hadn't dropped from hers, and she daren't look away.

"You didn't kidnap me." Her mouth felt dry, her stomach turned.

He scoffed, throwing back what left of his drink. "What else explains your desire to be with me still? What else explains why you're here, caring for me and allowing me to care for you?"

He was laughing again, but it was a dull, dead sound. "Intimate relationships are not something I am accustom to. I thought I could treat you like I treat everyone else in my life and keep you at an arm's length. It didn't occur to me how much you would fear me, not when you were always so vocal about your disdain for me. Even when I saw how miserable you were, at first, I did nothing to rectify it, too caught up in my own misery.

"I'm no better than your uncle," he sneered. Liliana assumed he was speaking of Adelina's husband; a man that she was sure had abused her aunt for decades. The comparison was absurd. While their initial relationship certainly could not be considered healthy, it was no where near as toxic and irreparable as her aunt's marriage.

"I think you should come get a drink, and eat something with me in the kitchen so we can talk about this," Liliana suggested warily. She needed to get them out of this room, away from the alcohol and out of the self-pitying hole Marcello had fallen into.

"Stop it!" He slammed his glass so hard into the desk Liliana was surprised it didn't break. She jumped at the fierce action. Her chest was aching, and she nearly cried at the sight of his own tears streaming down his cheeks. "You should hate me!"

"We shouldn't talk about this in here, in the dark, while you're drinking. Please come out and we can talk about this while you eat," she begged, desperation clear in her tone of voice.

"I'm not a good man Liliana. Everything I do is with an agenda, every move I make is to serve myself. I manipulate and I lie," he spat. "If I had just communicated with you, listened to you, we wouldn't be here. I took control of our marriage. I treated you like an object, and you were afraid of me. You still are. You should never have forgiven me. I don't deserve your affection. I don't deserve a family with you."

"Marcello, please," Liliana begged.

"I need to be alone." Marcello's shoulders slumped, a defeated sigh following his declaration. "I... I don't want you to see me like this."

Liliana returned to his office only once more before bed, to bring Mercello a large glass of water, and an omelette with whatever vegetables she had found in the fridge, wanting to remind him of when he had offered her comfort and care when she had needed it. She wanted to remind him of a time when he had cared for her when she had been so close to breaking. He was more than just his faults and past mistakes. He was thoughtful and kind to her, and no matter how he had gone about it, she understood he had always been trying to protect her.

He said nothing as she placed the glass and plate on his desk, didn't even lift his head from where it was buried in his arms. He was still awake though, for he had stilled as she entered the room and remained so until she left, as if he had been holding his breath.

She didn't go to sleep when she was finally in bed. Curled on her side and buried beneath the blankets, Liliana's eyes were locked on the glowing red numbers of her alarm clock that glared at her through the darkness. She didn't want him to sleep in his office, and she didn't want him to feel as if he couldn't stay with her in their room tonight. But she didn't know what to do. Was she meant to seek him out again? Beg and plead until he gave in and came to bed?

It was almost three hours after she had abandoned him when Liliana was roused from the cusp of sleep by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut softly. Marcello was in the bathroom, the sound of the tap was running but the light remained off, until he was crawling into their bed moments later.

***

Marcello had had no intention of returning to his bedroom that night. He'd wanted to stay as far away from Liliana as possible, certain the safest place for her to be would anywhere he was not.

The last few weeks he'd spent thinking of nothing but the anonymous threat against his wife, and of her pregnancy. Their appointment with Dr. Isaac today had been too much. Holding that ultrasound picture in his hands, holding the evidence of their baby in his hands, finally cemented everything in his mind. He was to be a father.

The very prospect baffled him. How could he, an emotionally distant, toxic mafiso, ever be a good father? His father, Sebastiano D'Onofrio had failed in that task, so what made Marcello any different? Marcello should not have poured himself that first drink, in the dark of his office with nothing but the ultrasound picture and his own morose thoughts as company. He certainly should not have poured the second, the third, fourth of fifth.

He had somewhat sobered up since Liliana had discovered him, nothing but shame filling every inch of him. While she had not said it, it was clear to him what a disappointment he had proved himself to be.

It had taken him over an hour since, to find the will to leave his desk, and to climb the staircase to the upper floor of the manor. Each step was too steep, too demanding, filling his gut with tension. Once he'd made it to their bedroom door, he hadn't been able to muster the courage to enter the room until another fifteen or so minutes had passed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered the phrase as quiet as possible, but his voice cut through the silence of the room with ease, his words feeling just as deafening as they would have felt if he had shouted. A chord of panic struck inside him, a sickly feeling of anxiety welling up in the depths of his stomach.

Liliana rolled to face him. He hoped she couldn't see the puffiness of his cheeks in the darkness. He didn't want her to look at him at all. His chest felt too tight. Every second it took for her to respond felt like a second without oxygen.

As soon as he had reached their bed, her arms reached to beckon him closer and instantly Marcello welcomed her comfort, pressing his face to her chest.

"You don't need to apologise. But you need to talk to someone." His eyes clenched shut, listening to the gentle lull of her voice. Her fingers drifted through his hair soothingly, as they always did when she comforted him.

"I do, and I'm fine." He hadn't wanted her to see him like this. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him like this.

"It doesn't make you weak to seek help."

He felt weak. He felt utterly pathetic. He didn't deserve her comfort.

When she received no response, her hands stilled in his hair. Marcello stiffened, waiting for her to push him away.

"Marcello?" She called softly.

He didn't dare say a word in response. He didn't dare move.

"How can I help, Marcello?"

He shook his head against her, hating the telling moisture that dampened her pyjama shirt. He didn't have an answer.



So obviously mental health has been a big focus of this story for a while now with Mercello's mother and her depression but now we finally get a glimpse of Mercello's struggles and a side to him he hasn't exposed until now. I hope everyone reading this recognises that Alcohol is not a healthy way to deal with metal health and that people with depression are vulnerable to alcohol and drug abuse (Mercello's alcoholism has come up a little before.)

It's been Mental Health Awareness Week in the UK and I just want to put out there that having mental health issues shouldn't be a taboo subject nor does it make you weak (no matter how often it can feel like that sometimes). Please don't feel ashamed of your mental health. Please seek help or advice if you need it or even if you feel you need to learn more. More awareness and understanding is key to breaking stigma and ensuring more people get the help they so greatly need and deserve!

This was more of a filler chapter, it's all about to kick off in the next one!

I've still got some more university projects due so this was a bit of a rush but I really didn't want to put off updating any longer, so sorry if this chapter seems a bit off compared to the previous ones.