Days turned into weeks, and despite the constant barrage of medical treatments and therapies, Alessia's mental and emotional state continued to deteriorate. The seizures didn't stop—they became a constant, uninvited companion in her life.

It wasn't just the physical toll that wore her down. It was a psychological burden. Alessia had always been independent and self-reliant, but now, every day, she felt like she was losing herself. The constant fear of another seizure, the embarrassment of needing help from her family, the anger at her own body for betraying her—it all compounded into a cloud of hopelessness. She couldn't escape it.

Giovanni watched helplessly as she withdrew further into herself. She barely spoke. She refused to go outside, to interact with anyone. And when she did talk, it was usually to snap at him or the medical staff. He could see that she was frustrated, but she didn't know how to express it. The constant shifting between the fear of seizures and the anxiety of losing control had broken her down in ways Giovanni couldn't understand.

One evening, after another particularly difficult day, Alessia locked herself in her room, refusing to come out. Giovanni stood outside the door, his hand pressed against the cold wood, trying to think of the right words.

"Alessia," he called softly, his voice cracking. "Please, I just want to help. You don't have to go through this alone."

There was silence for a long moment before the door creaked open, and Alessia stood on the other side. Her face was pale, her eyes red from crying. She looked like a shell of the person she used to be.

"I can't do this, Giovanni," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I don't want to be this person. I don't want to live with these seizures. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to need anyone's help."

Giovanni's heart broke. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. "You're not weak," he whispered into her hair. "You're strong, Alessia. You're the strongest person I know. And you don't have to be alone in this. I'm here. We're all here. We'll get through this together."

Alessia didn't respond, but Giovanni felt her arms slowly wrap around him, her body trembling against his. For the first time in weeks, he felt the faintest flicker of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, they could begin to heal. But they had a long road ahead of them.