I'm stupid.

I'm stupid.

I'm stupid.

I'm so stupid.

That makes four times.

I'm stupid.

Five.

I should have done a full check-up on Luca. I should have checked every scar, every injury, every mark. But no, I focused only on his leg—the most obvious injury. And what if there was more? What if there were old fractures? What if his ribs had been broken at some point? What if—

I groaned, running a hand through my hair as I leaned against the cold elevator wall. Nineteen.

I'm stupid.

Twenty.

The elevator doors slid open, and I dragged myself toward the front door of the mansion. It was late—so late it was practically morning—but none of that mattered. I had to see Luca. Now.

I pushed the heavy doors open, stepping inside as quietly as I could. The house was mostly dark, except for the faint glow spilling from the living room. That was when I noticed them.

Papa and Leonardo.

Both of them were still awake, seated in the living room, their attention buried in stacks of paperwork scattered across the table. Documents, reports, files—some neatly stacked, others sprawled haphazardly as if they had been shifting through them for hours. Legal papers mixed with things that definitely weren't meant for courtrooms.

Leonardo had one hand in his hair, flipping through a contract, while Papa leaned back slightly, his fingers pressed against his temple like he had the start of a headache.

Neither of them looked surprised to see me. Because of course, they knew me. They knew I wasn't the type to just go home and sleep after a day like today.

Leonardo's sharp gaze lifted first, scanning me instantly, taking in my state—tie shoved into my pocket, white coat slung over my shoulder, my face probably looking half-dead from exhaustion.

Papa set his pen down and studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"Massimo," he said, voice calm but firm. "You're home late."

I exhaled, dropping my coat onto one of the chairs. "I need to see Luca."

Leonardo arched an eyebrow. "At midnight?"

"Yes," I said, rubbing my temple. "I should have done a full check-up on him before. I only focused on his leg, but—" I paused, feeling my frustration rise again. "I need to make sure there's nothing else I missed. Old scars, hidden injuries, anything."

Papa leaned forward slightly, his fingers lacing together. "No."

I blinked. "Sorry, What?"

"You're not waking him up," he repeated, his tone final.

I clenched my jaw. "Papa, you don't understand. I have to—"

"I understand perfectly," he cut me off smoothly. "You've spent the entire day at the hospital, overworked and exhausted, and now your mind is spiraling because you didn't check every single inch of your brother today. But you will not wake up Luca in the middle of the night just to satisfy your guilt."

My hands balled into fists at my sides. "It's not guilt, it's—"

"It's guilt," Leonardo muttered under his breath, flipping through a file.

I shot him a glare, but he didn't even bother looking up.

Papa exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose before fixing his gaze on me again. "Luca wakes up early anyway, You can check on him in the morning."

"Papa, I just—I can't stop thinking about what I missed! What if—"

"You didn't miss anything that won't still be there in a few hours," he interrupted, this time softer. "Luca ate dinner and I am supposing he is getting a good night's sleep, and I won't have you ruining that because you're overthinking."

Stubborn old man.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, my shoulders slumping.

Papa leaned back slightly, watching me carefully. His tone wasn't angry—just firm.

"Get some sleep," he said, quieter now. "You look like you're about to collapse. What good will you be to Luca if you can't even think straight?"

Leonardo snorted, finally looking up from his paperwork. "Yeah, doctor, ever heard of rest? Pretty sure you've recommended it to, I don't know, every single patient you've ever had?"

I groaned, pressing a hand to my face.

which made Papa shake his head in amusement.

"Two hours, Massimo," Papa said, already picking up his pen again. "Then you can check on him."

I hesitated for half a second, then exhaled sharply, grabbing my coat again. "Fine. Two hours."

"Two hours," Papa echoed, flipping open a new file.

Leonardo smirked. "Want me to tuck you in?"

I shot him a glare on my way to the stairs. "I hope the next contract you sign bankrupts you."

Papa sighed. "Leonardo, don't start."

"He started it," Leonardo said, going back to his files.

I ignored them both, dragging myself upstairs. As much as I hated to admit it, they were right. I was dead on my feet.

Just two hours.

Then I'd see Luca. Then I'd fix what I should have done right the first time.



At seven sharp, I made my way upstairs, my footsteps light against the wooden floors. The house was quiet—mostly. I had already heard the twins grumbling about waking up for school, Leonardo mumbling something about coffee. But my mind was focused elsewhere.

Luca.

I reached his room and pushed the door open quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was still asleep. But as soon as I stepped inside, I realized I didn't have to worry about that.

Luca was already awake, sitting on the bed with his small legs stretched out in front of him. His crutch rested beside him, untouched. His tiny hands clutched an iPad, the screen casting a soft glow on his face. He was focused, completely absorbed—until he saw me.

His entire body stiffened, his fingers freezing over the screen. Then, in the span of two seconds, he fumbled to lock the iPad, scrambled to push it aside, and looked up at me, his wide brown eyes filled with something that shouldn't be there—fear.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry!" he blurted out, his voice panicked and far too rehearsed for something so small.

I frowned, stepping closer. "Sorry?" I repeated, keeping my voice soft.

He nodded quickly, his hands gripping the blanket. "I-I-I kn-know I-I sh-shouldn't b-be using it," he stammered, shrinking into himself. "I-I w-w-won't do it a-again, I-I p-promise—"

Ah.

That's what this was.

I took a slow breath, pushing down the familiar burning anger—not at him, never at him—but at the people who had made him like this.

I sat down carefully on the edge of his bed, making sure to give him space. "Luca," I said gently. "You don't have to apologize."

He blinked, looking unsure. "B-but—"

"There's nothing wrong with using your iPad, It is yours anyway." I continued, keeping my tone calm but firm enough that he'd believe me. "You're not in trouble, piccolo."

He hesitated, his hands still clutching the blanket.

I picked up the iPad and unlocked it easily, turning the screen so we could both see it. It was open to a kids' drawing app, filled with colorful scribbles and shapes. No loud videos. No games with flashing lights. Just... quiet little doodles.

I smiled. "You were drawing?"

Luca nodded slowly, still tense. "I-I—y-yes."

I handed the iPad back to him. "Show me."

He hesitated, looking up at me with those cautious, searching eyes—the kind that asked 'Are you sure?' before he even dared to believe it.

When I nodded encouragingly, he took the iPad with shaky hands and turned it back on. His small fingers swiped across the screen, bringing up a picture—a messy, colorful drawing of a lion. The mane was wild, the body uneven, the colors overlapping, but I could tell exactly what it was.

A lion.

"Did you draw this, bambino?" I asked, looking at him.

He nodded quickly, a little shy now, like maybe he thought I'd say it was bad.

"It's amazing," I told him, because it was.

He blinked, surprised. "R-r-really?"

"Of course," I said easily. "I think you should draw more."

Luca still looked unsure, but there was something new there—something softer, something lighter.

And I swore to myself, right then and there, that I'd make sure he never had to apologize for something like this ever again.

———————-

رمضان كريم ❤️

Tell me ur opinion sorry for the very long wait next chapter is supposed to be spicy💅💅