"You're going to see him?" Elena mutters over the phone. She pretends this doesn't upset her but I know it does.

"I have to." It's been months. I could never bring myself to it but the more I stay away, the more it hurts.

There was a brief moment of silence before she speaks up again, "I miss him."

"I know, El. I do too," I utter and add, "I'll see you soon, okay?" She mumbles a quick goodbye and be safe then ends the call.

"Mr. Alvera," the doctor stops me before I could walk into the room. "His current meds aren't working but he will be put on new ones tomorrow morning."

Of course they're not working. They never do.

I simply nod my head at him before opening the door and walking in.

There he is. His hair is whiter than when I last saw him but other that than, he's the dad I remember. Well, at least by looks.

"Finally," he lets out a breath of relief as the frantic look on his face relaxes, "are you here to take me out of this place?"

"No-" I try to reply but he cuts me off. "Are you with them? The people that are listening in?" he questions, the fear evident in his voice as he takes a step back.

"I'm your son," I try to explain. "Dad it's me, Niccolò? Per favore, ricarda papá."

"You're lying," he practically spits. "I never had a son. You're with them. I know!"

I don't know why I thought this time might be any different. I knew he was getting worse and worse. I just wanted to try.

"They're listening in," he whispers, looking around the room. "They're trying to keep me trapped in here."

I just want to tell him that there's no one. It's just me, but he doesn't even fucking remember me.

"Papá, per favore," I beg, taking slow steps towards him. I quickly pull out a picture from my pocket. One of him, me and Elena when we were younger.

"Look this is you," I explain, pointing at the picture. "This is me, your son, and this is Elena. She looks just like mum, your wife, dad."

He stands there for a moment, staring at the picture. I see realisation in his eyes but it quickly goes away.

He remembered. Even if it was just for a second, he did. I saw it in his eyes.

"This is a nice family you have here," he says with a small smile, handing me the picture back. It's our family.

"What's your name again, son?" he asks. Son.

"Niccolò," I tell him. He used to tell me the story on how my name was picked. When I was kid, I thought it was kind of stupid but now I'd do anything to hear him tell me that story again.

How him and my mum were walking in Venice, they didn't even know she was pregnant yet, but when they sat down after getting some ice cream, they heard a mother chasing her son down. She kept yelling his name, "Niccolò, vieni qui!" In the end, she caught him but she wasn't mad, she just hugged him. I don't know but my mother thought it was cute. He told me that ever since then, she knew that was what she wanted to call her first son.

"Can you call the nurse in? I think it's time for me to go to sleep," he says and I nod my head with a small smile before leaving the room.

It's just crazy to me how his personality can change within seconds. It's even more crazy to me that years and years of memories are lost, he just cant remember.

"He asked for you," I tell the woman who's standing outside the room and she nods her head.

I wonder if he remembers the nurses and doctors. If I was able to visit him everyday, would he remember me?

Maybe it's my fault.



I throw a jab at the punching bag, letting out a breath as I do so. Then I throw another hit and another and another.

It's two in the morning. I came back home a few hours ago. I just couldn't take my mind off of him and what I could have done so to take my mind off of it, I've been doing this.

I don't even know if it's doing fucking anything.

I take the gloves off, throwing them onto the floor before grabbing the bottle of whiskey and heading out of the training room. If training can't get my mind off it, maybe alcohol can.

Elena kept asking me how our dad is and the thing is I couldn't even tell her the truth because I know how much it would hurt her to know that he's getting worse and worse.

So I lied. I told her that the meds are working and he's doing good, but he has some episodes every now and then.

I know lying is wrong. I told her I would never lie to her. But I've seen her breakdown over this many times and I just couldn't see it again, especially after everything she's been through. She needs a break.

I walk into the kitchen and place the bottle onto the island counter. I open the glass cupboard to get a cup but right as I grab it it falls and smashes onto the floor. Fuck.

"Questa è una stronzata," I curse under my breath as I take a step back. {This is bullshit}

I quickly kneel down and try to collect all the broken glass. Luckily, it broke in big pieces and didn't leave any small, sharp ones.

"Niccolò?" I hear a voice mutter.

Getting startled, I accidentally cut the palm of my hand on one of the shards of glass. "Shit."

I hear footsteps getting closer and once I look up, I see Azaría. Her hair is in a messy braid and she's in a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt that shows her shoulders.

Did I wake her up?

She immediately kneels down and starts helping me. "Are you okay?" she asks and I nod my head, not replying as I stand up to throw away the glass.

She stands up too but once she throws the pieces in the bin, she notices the blood on my hand.

"You're not okay," she sighs, grabbing my hand gently to inspect it. It's a small cut. I don't even care about it so why does she?

"It's fine," I tell her, pulling my hand back.

She just looks at me with an annoyed look before grabbing a piece of tissue paper and placing it on my hand. "Keep it there till it stops bleeding," she orders.

"I'll live," I mutter, taking the tissue off. I head over to the sink and keep my hand under the warm water, rinsing off the blood.

"Niccolò," she says, but this time her voice isn't soft, it's serious. I turn to look at her and she takes a step closer to me. I watch as her eyes glance at the bottle of alcohol and then to me.

"Just leave it, Azaría," I scoff. "Go back to sleep."

"I can tell you've been training. The alcohol too?" she says. "So what's wrong, Niccolò?"

She just knows. She always does.

I ignore her question, grab the bottle and walk to the living room. I couldn't even take a chance to sit down before she grabs the bottle straight out of my hands.

"You're going to bed," she practically orders me as if she doesn't work for me.

"Yeah?" I question. All she does is roll her eyes before grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the living room.

"I'm fucking fine," I tell her once more, pulling my hand back. Why can't she just take that as an answer?

"I'm not leaving you alone like this, okay?" she sighs in frustration. "You don't need to tell me what's wrong, but you're going to sleep. It's late."

It's embarrassing. How we met a few months ago but she can tell when something's wrong.

How we met a few months ago but it seems like she cares more about me than she should.

It's so fucking embarrassing how we met a few months ago and she's practically taking care of me right now.

I don't even reply in shame but I follow her up the stairs quietly. Every now and then, she glances back at me.

Once we reach my room, she opens my door and walks in. I take a seat on my bed but before she leaves, she asks me, "Do you need something before I go?"

"Azaría," I say and she hums softly. "Why didn't you just leave it?"

"I can tell that something is wrong, Niccolo," she mutters, walking closer to me. "Why would I just leave you alone like that?"

Because we're not even close? Sometimes she can be too nice for her own good.

"It's my dad," I find myself admitting. I don't know why I told her. The words came out before I could even think.

"A few years ago, he just started forgetting stuff, but now he forgot everything. He doesn't even remember me, Azaría," I mumble.

I look up to meet her eyes and now she's right in front of me. "He spent those memories with you. Even though he won't remember them, you will," she says softly.

"I don't even know if I can," I reply and her brows furrow. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"There's a chance that I will be in his condition too when I'm older," I tell her. I never really said that out loud and now that I am, it hits me that I might just end up like my dad.

I won't remember him or my mum. I won't remember Elena and she will have to go through that whole process again with me just like she did with our father.

Is it really worth it settling down with someone and having children if I'm going to end up like that? To put them through all that pain?

"You never really know though," she says. "You can't spend your whole life thinking what if you forget, it will change your whole point of view of things."

It's like she can read my mind.

"Thank you," I mutter, my hand placing it self on her hip. I look up, my eyes meeting with hers and it's the first time I've taken a moment to really look at them.

With the gold lamp reflection, her hazel eyes look beautiful. There are hints of green but what's really special is the ring of amber around her pupils.

My eyes further scan her face, taking in every feature that I somehow managed to not notice before.

Her long, thick lashes and brows, the few freckles on her nose that are only noticeable when you're close up, they face she makes when she's biting the inside of her cheeks like she is right now.

I watch as her lips tilt up into a small smile. "Niccolo saying thank you to someone?" she teases and I can tell she's trying to lighten my mood.

"I'm serious," I chuckle quietly. "Are you going to accept my thank you or should I take back?"

"Nope," she shrugs and I furrow my brows. "Because you don't need to thank me for something like this."

She's kidding, right? She definitely is too nice for her own good.

"Don't forget about those memories you have with your dad, Col," she tells me once more in a soft tone. "I know it's hard but maybe visit him more to try make new memories with him."

She's right, I should. I will. But I should have done that ages ago. I used the excuse of seeing him in that condition being too hard for me but I can't imagine what it's like for him.

"I would have made more memories with my dad if I had the chance," she mumbles under her breath, more to herself than me, like she didn't even know the words slipped.

My brows furrow and I look up at her in confusion. The truth is, I really don't know much about her. She's a ghost. None of my investigators could dig up any piece of information on her.

Once she sees the confusion on my face, she speaks up, "He died." Her voice came out in a whisper as she looks down at her hands. "The house was on fire, I barely remember a thing. I see glimpses though. Glimpses of him picking me up and rushing me out of the house to safety. He ran back inside for my mum and..." she trails off.

A fire? My mind immediately goes back to when I saw that burn mark on her lower back and hips. My mouth drops a little when I take in all of her words.

Tears build up in her eyes and she lets out a weak laugh. "This is silly," she chuckles slightly, taking a step back.

I quickly stand up, taking a step towards her in response. "It's not, Azaría, don't say that."

She rubs her eyes and once she looks back up at me, her tears are gone and she has a small smile on her lips. It's like she wasn't upset just a second ago. It's impressive but it's so fucking scary how she can fake her emotions like a switch. Does she do that often?

She clears her throat. "Forget about it. Really."

"You know," I start, moving a strand of her hair behind her ear, "a wise person, who's also very annoying, told me once that you just need to remember that those memories won't leave you."

Her lips tilt up into a smile. Another smile though. Not the fake one she was showing me. I did it. "Hmm, I wonder who that could be?"

"She's a pain in the ass," I reply teasingly to which she raises her brows in disbelief.

"Oh really?" she counters, crossing her arms.

"But she can be good company," I add. She tilts her head at my words, her eyes glistening.

"I guess, you can be as well," she mutters.

"You guess, huh?" I repeat her words and she rolls her eyes, showing me that attitude age never lost.

"It's late," she takes a step back. "Night, Col. And don't forget to put a plaster on that cut, you're not Superman."

A chuckle escapes my lips in response to her words. "Goodnight, Ría," I reply, watching as she heads towards the bedroom door but before she leaves she stops suddenly.

"And your secret is safe with me, don't worry," she quickly says and leaves, not leaving me time to reply.

I wouldn't have told her if I felt like I couldn't trust her. But the thing is, why do I trust her?

I know I trusted her before. With the secret of the mafia and counting on her on missions.

But now I trust her.

Only a few dozen of people in the mafia know about Elena's existence and those are the people I know for a fact wouldn't betray me. But I can count on my hand the people that know about my father and his current condition. She's now one of them.



the start of him falling in love??🙈🤫🤫

so much going on in this chapter !! what are your thoughts 🤔🤔

word count | 2603