POV: Emilia

Morning came too soon.

I knew it by the faint light peeking through the curtains, but I didn't want to open my eyes.

My hands ached.

My knees throbbed.

Every tiny movement sent sharp little reminders through my body, and the memories from last night came rushing in like a flood.

The shattering glass.

The blood.

Their voices.

I curled in tighter under the blankets, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I stayed still enough, quiet enough, they'd forget about me.

Just pretend it didn't happen.

But then there was a knock.

Soft. Careful.

"Emilia, tesoro?"

Matteo.

I didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway.

I braced myself for... something. I didn't know what.

Instead, his voice stayed soft.

"Time for breakfast, amore."

I hesitated, heart pounding too fast.

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "The others are waiting."

I swallowed hard, staring at my hands wrapped in soft white bandages.

If I said no, would he be mad?

Would they all be mad?

Would they think I was ungrateful?

The weight of his presence in the doorway felt crushing, even though he hadn't moved closer.

I nodded. Barely.

"Good girl," he said, and for some reason, it made my chest ache.

The dining room was too big.

Too bright.

Too... much.

I took small, careful steps, feeling them all watching me.

Luca. Matteo. Nico. Raffaele.

I kept my eyes down as I took my usual spot at the end of the table.

"Morning, Emilia," Raffaele said, his voice light, like nothing had happened last night.

I didn't answer.

Matteo set a plate in front of me—scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit.

Too much.

I stared at it, stomach twisting.

The smell was overwhelming.

I could feel them watching. Waiting.

I picked up my fork with shaky fingers, the bandages making it awkward.

A small bite.

The eggs tasted like nothing.

Another.

The toast was dry, scratchy against my throat.

Half a strawberry.

My chest felt tight.

I put the fork down.

Couldn't do more.

I stared at the plate, waiting for disappointment, for anger—

But Matteo's voice was gentle.

"You did so well, tesoro."

My eyes flicked up in surprise.

Luca gave a slow nod, his face unreadable but not unkind.

Nico was staring at his plate, jaw tight, but he didn't say anything.

And Raffaele—he was grinning. "That's more than yesterday. We're getting somewhere, huh?"

I didn't know what to say.

I just sat there, my heart pounding too loud in my chest.

Matteo reached out, slow and careful, and placed a cup of tea beside me.

"Drink what you can, amore," he said. "No rush."

I hesitated, but wrapped my hands around the cup.

The warmth seeped into my fingers.

Safe.

For now.

POV: Luca

She was barely eating.

Barely talking.

Barely breathing, it felt like.

Every move was careful, like she was waiting for something to snap.

I watched her fingers tremble around the cup, watched the way she flinched when Nico shifted in his chair.

It made my blood boil, but I swallowed it down.

"Emilia," I said quietly, and her eyes shot up, wide and startled.

I softened my voice. "We're proud of you."

She didn't respond, just looked down at her tea like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Matteo gave me a look, a warning. Go slow.

I sighed, leaning back.

"We're thinking of taking a little trip," I said, keeping my voice casual. "Just us."

Her grip on the cup tightened.

"Somewhere quiet," Raffaele added quickly. "Somewhere with, y'know... less glass."

Matteo shot him a look, but Emilia didn't react.

Nico spoke up, his voice gruff but careful. "It's nothing big. Just to... get away."

She was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, "Why?"

I exchanged a glance with Matteo.

"For you," I said honestly.

Her eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place.

Suspicion.

Fear.

Confusion.

Matteo leaned in slightly, voice soothing. "No pressure, amore. Just something to think about."

She nodded slowly, but I could tell the idea unsettled her.

Too much too soon.

I sighed.

Baby steps.

"Finish your tea, sweetheart," I said softly, and to my surprise, she did.

A small victory.

Raffaele, always the one to fill the silence, grinned. "Next step is getting you to laugh, huh?"

Emilia's eyes darted to him for half a second, then away. She looked exhausted, like the weight of just sitting here with us was too much.

Matteo caught my eye, his brow furrowing. "I think we should let her rest for a bit," he said gently. "She's had a long morning already."

Luca stood first, his chair scraping softly against the floor. "Come on, piccolina," he said, holding out a hand. "Let's get you comfortable."

For a moment, Emilia didn't move. Then, cautiously, she stood, keeping her head down as if trying to disappear into herself. She hesitated before following Luca out of the dining room, her steps careful and uncertain.

We watched them go, and once she was out of earshot, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"She's trying," Raffaele said softly, his usual humor absent from his voice. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

Nico, who'd been silent the whole time, crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Trying isn't enough," he muttered, jaw clenched. "She barely trusts us. She flinches every time someone moves too fast." His voice cracked just slightly, but he masked it behind a sharp inhale. "I should've done more last night. I—"

Matteo cut him off with a look. "Don't."

Nico slammed a fist against the table, but not hard enough to make Emilia hear from upstairs. His head dropped into his hands, and for a second, none of us knew what to say.

"We're doing everything we can," I said, my voice lower. "We just have to keep going. Slowly."

"Slow," Nico scoffed bitterly. "What if slow isn't enough? What if she—" He cut himself off, shaking his head like he couldn't bear to finish the thought.

Matteo reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "We'll keep her safe," he said, firm and unwavering. "That's all that matters."

Nico didn't look convinced, but he nodded, his jaw still tight.

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drifting toward the stairs. Emilia was up there, probably curled up under the covers, exhausted from just being around us. It made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

"She needs time," Matteo said, like he could hear my thoughts. "And we'll give it to her."

Raffaele sighed. "Well, if time is what she needs, then I guess I better get used to seeing her glare at me like I kicked her puppy."

That managed to draw a faint smile from Matteo, and even Nico's lips twitched.

I didn't smile.

Because deep down, I couldn't shake the thought that Nico was right.

What if slow wasn't enough?

POV: Emilia

The bedroom was too quiet.

I sat on the bed, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the wall.

I could hear faint voices downstairs, too muffled to make out, but I didn't need to hear the words to know they were talking about me.

I hated it.

I hated feeling like a problem they needed to solve.

My fingers curled around the sleeve of the soft sweater Raffaele had given me to wear, the fabric swallowing my hands completely. I tugged it tighter around me, grounding myself in the softness.

My chest ached with the need to do something, to move, to escape the feeling pressing in around me. I thought about last night—the glass, the blood, the way they'd all surrounded me, their hands too gentle, their words too soft.

Too much.

It was always too much.

A knock at the door made me flinch so hard I nearly fell off the bed.

"Just me, tesoro," Matteo's voice floated through the door, calm and steady. "Can I come in?"

I swallowed and nodded before realizing he couldn't see me. "Okay," I said, my voice hoarse from not speaking much.

He stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning me, like he was checking for more invisible wounds.

"I brought some more tea," he said, holding up a cup, his smile easy and warm.

I hesitated, but reached out and took it. The warmth seeped through the cup into my hands, steadying me.

He sat on the edge of the bed, giving me space. "You did good at breakfast," he said softly. "That was a big step."

I looked down at the tea. "I barely ate anything"

Matteo tilted his head slightly, his expression gentle. "You ate more than yesterday."

The words made my chest tighten, a lump forming in my throat. I took a sip of tea just to have something to do.

After a long silence, I whispered, "It's hard."

Matteo nodded. "I know"

The tea sat untouched in my hands, the steam curling up in soft tendrils, disappearing into the air. My fingers gripped the cup tightly, knuckles pale. I could feel Matteo's gaze on me, steady and patient, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I shifted uncomfortably, my throat dry. "I didn't mean to break it," I whispered finally, my voice hoarse. Although it was random, I knew he knew what I meant.

Matteo's voice was gentle, careful. "I know, tesoro."

I swallowed hard. "I—I'll clean it better next time. I promise."

Matteo's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice even softer now. "Emilia, you don't have to clean anything."

The words made my stomach twist. I blinked down at the cup, feeling my pulse race. "But I do," I murmured. "I should."

Matteo was quiet for a moment, like he was choosing his words with the same precision he used when stitching someone up. "There aren't any rules like that here," he said gently. "You don't have to fix things, you don't have to be scared of mistakes."

A lump formed in my throat, hot and suffocating. "You say that now, but what if—" My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded. "What if I mess up again?"

Matteo's expression softened even more, if that was possible. "Then you mess up," he said simply. "And we move on."

I shook my head, my chest tightening. "It's not that easy."

A pause. Then, with infinite patience, Matteo whispered, "I know."

The way he said it—like he really did know—made something ache deep inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the cup harder. I didn't deserve this kind of gentleness. I didn't know how to exist in it.

Matteo didn't push. He didn't demand anything. He just sat there, letting me process, letting me breathe in the quiet safety of the moment.

After what felt like forever, I risked a glance at him. "You should go back to bed," I mumbled, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in my bones.

A small, warm smile tugged at his lips. "I will. Once I know you're okay."

I looked away quickly, feeling something dangerously close to tears sting my eyes. "I'm fine," I whispered, but the words felt hollow.

Matteo didn't argue, but I could tell he didn't believe me either. "Alright, tesoro," he said softly. "Just... try to get some rest, okay?"

I gave a tiny nod, staring down at the tea again, watching the steam fade.

Matteo stayed a moment longer before standing, moving slowly like he was afraid any sudden movement might scare me off. "If you need anything," he said, pausing at the door, "I'm right down the hall."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

When he left, I sat in the silence for a long time, staring into the dark, feeling the weight of his words settle over me.

The house was too quiet.

I lay in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, counting each slow breath, willing my body to relax. But sleep wouldn't come. My mind wouldn't stop spinning.

I didn't know the rules here.

Everywhere had rules—spoken and unspoken. And not knowing them made my stomach twist painfully. What if I did something wrong? What if they got mad? What if... what if I ruined everything?

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers gripping the blanket so tightly it bunched under my touch. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. But the thoughts came anyway, creeping in like shadows under the door.

After what felt like hours of restless tossing, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know.

I pushed back the blanket and slipped my feet onto the floor, wincing when the cold wood sent a shiver up my spine. The house was dark, I only knew where to go from the countless times my brothers showed me there rooms, assuring me I was welcome anytime.

My heart pounded against my ribs, every step feeling heavier than the last as I made my way to his door. I hesitated, my fingers hovering inches from the wood. What if he was asleep? What if I was bothering him?

I should just go back.

But before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked lightly.

Seconds passed. Then, the door creaked open, and Matteo stood there, sleep-rumpled and blinking down at me in surprise.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but still carrying that ever-present warmth. "What's wrong?"

I stared at him for a moment, chewing the inside of my cheek. This was stupid. I shouldn't have woken him up. "I—sorry," I mumbled, already taking a step back. "I didn't mean to—"

Matteo reached out gently, his hand hovering near my shoulder without touching. "It's okay, tesoro. What is it?"

I swallowed hard, my gaze fixed on the floor. "I... I don't know the rules." The words were barely more than a whisper, but they hung between us like something fragile. "I don't know what I'm allowed to do."

Matteo's face softened, and for a second, I thought he might laugh, but he didn't. Instead, he opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in. "Come sit," he said, his voice soothing. "Let's talk, yeah?"

I hesitated, but something about the way he said it made me nod. I stepped inside, perching awkwardly on the edge of a chair as Matteo sat across from me, watching me with quiet patience.

"The rules," I whispered again, feeling ridiculous. "I just... I don't wanna mess up."

Matteo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sweetheart, there's not much to mess up." He smiled gently. "But I'll tell you, okay?"

I nodded, my hands gripping the hem of my shirt tightly.

"First rule," he said, holding up a finger. "No hurting yourself or anyone else." His eyes were soft but serious. "That's the most important one."

My throat tightened, but I nodded.

"Second," he continued, "you can go wherever you want. Anywhere. But we want you to tell us first, so we know where you are."

I frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "Why?"

Matteo smiled a little. "Because we care about you, and we just wanna make sure you're safe. You're not in trouble or anything. You can go anywhere—just let us know, alright?"

I nodded slowly, trying to believe him.

"And third..." He paused, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee as if thinking. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. Whether that's eating, talking, or being around us too much. We'll take things at your pace."

I blinked, surprised by that one. "Really?"

Matteo smiled. "Really."

I swallowed, my chest tightening in a way I didn't understand. It was too much. Too kind. Too different. I stood quickly, my voice rushing out. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Matteo stood too, but he didn't move toward me, just watching carefully. "You never have to apologize for needing something, Emilia."

I couldn't look at him. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "I should go back to bed," I mumbled.

Matteo nodded, his voice gentle. "Okay, tesoro."

I turned to leave, but before I could step through the doorway, I heard him again. "And, Emilia?"

I paused.

"You're doing amazing, we're so proud of you baby."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded quickly before walking back to my room, feeling the weight of his words lingering in my chest long after I climbed back into bed.