Enzo's Pov

The sound of Fina's laughter echoed through the garden, a sound I hadn't heard in years. It wasn't loud or carefree like it used to be, but it was there, soft and hesitant, breaking through the weight she carried like sunlight through clouds.

I leaned back on the grass, watching her try to swat Antonio's hand away as he teased her about her shooting form. Matteo had already chimed in, claiming he could give her "professional" tips despite being the worst shooter among us.

Fina rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushed from the game, and for a moment, I saw her as she used to be—the bright-eyed little girl who would follow us around, demanding to play even though she could barely dribble the ball. It was fleeting, but it was there.

It was something.

"Enzo," Dante's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He had propped himself up on his elbows, his sharp gaze locked on me. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing," I said, shrugging. But Dante didn't look convinced. He rarely was.

"You've been staring at her like she's going to disappear again."

I flinched, his words hitting harder than I wanted to admit.

"She's not going anywhere," Dante continued, his voice low. "We've got her now. You know that, right?"

I nodded, but the truth was, I wasn't sure I did. After everything that had happened—after years of searching, of hoping, of fearing the worst—it was hard to believe she was really here.

"She's trying," Dante said, softer this time. "And that's because of us. Because we're giving her a reason to. Don't let your doubt ruin that."

"I'm not doubting her," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "I'm doubting myself. I don't know if we're doing enough for her."

Dante let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You're doing fine, Enzo. We all are. She's smiling again, isn't she? That's because of you."

Before I could respond, Fina's voice called out, "Enzo! Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me shut Antonio up?"

Antonio smirked, holding the ball above his head while Fina jumped to grab it, her frustration growing with each failed attempt.

I couldn't help but grin as I got to my feet, brushing the grass off my pants. "Alright, I'm coming to your rescue."

"Finally!" Fina huffed, crossing her arms.

I walked over, easily snatching the ball out of Antonio's hands and tossing it to Fina. She caught it, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"Thanks," she said, her voice quieter now.

"No problem," I replied, ruffling her hair. "That's what big brothers are for."

Her smile lingered for a moment before she turned and tried to dribble the ball again, her movements clumsy but determined.

As I watched her, I felt a strange mix of pride and protectiveness swell in my chest. She was still fragile, still unsure of herself, but she was trying. And for now, that was enough.

"Don't let her get too soft on you," Antonio teased, nudging my shoulder. "We've got to toughen her up."

"She's tougher than you think," I said, my tone serious.

Antonio blinked, surprised by my response, but he didn't argue. Instead, he glanced at Fina, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "She is."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the garden in shades of gold and orange, I realized something. Dante was right—Fina wasn't going anywhere. She was here, with us, and we'd make sure she stayed.

We'd protect her, no matter what it took.