Emilia POV:

I woke up slowly, the fuzziness of sleep still clinging to me. For a moment, everything felt like it was in a haze. My head was heavy, and my throat was dry, but at least it didn't feel as if I was on fire anymore.

Raffaele was sitting at the edge of my bed, looking at me with his usual grin, though it seemed a little gentler today. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the last bit of sleep.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice still a bit raspy.

His grin softened. "I've been here for a while, actually. You've been out cold for hours, sweetheart." He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I muttered. "I'm not... not burning anymore." I shifted, sitting up a little, but the room still felt wobbly.

Raffaele immediately placed a hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm, making sure I didn't topple over. "Careful, love," he said, his tone soothing. "I don't think the room's ready for you to start jumping around just yet."

I gave him a small, half-smile, despite myself. I wasn't sure what was going on, but the way he was talking—so calm, like he was trying not to spook me—it made me feel like maybe I didn't have to be so scared anymore.

But the moment his hand left my shoulder, the quiet crept back in. I shifted uncomfortably, hugging my knees to my chest.

I remembered what happened before, how I had gotten sick and why. It wasn't just the fever. It wasn't just the pain. It was everything that had been happening around me that I didn't understand. The way my brothers were always so on edge, always so careful with me like I might break at any second.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He froze, his eyes softening, confusion flickering across his face. "Sorry?" he repeated. "What for?"

"I don't know. I just... I don't want to be a burden," I said quietly. My voice cracked, and I hated it. "I don't want you all to keep worrying about me."

Raffaele's gaze softened, and I could see him processing my words. His usual playful grin was gone, replaced with something more... real. Something more like concern.

He leaned in just a little, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're never a burden, sweetheart," he said gently. "Don't ever think that. We just care about you." His eyes met mine, and for a second, I could see the weight of the unspoken words. He wasn't just talking about this fever, this sickness. He was talking about everything else, too.

I nodded slowly, not sure what to say.

Then, Raffaele cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter, his usual teasing smile returning, though it wasn't as playful as usual. "Okay, well," he began, his voice brightening just a little, "I've got a joke for you." He raised an eyebrow, trying to make it look dramatic. "What do you call a fake noodle?"

I just looked at him. I didn't feel like smiling.

"A impasta!" he said, his grin wide as if the joke was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

I blinked at him, my lips barely twitching.

"Really?" I asked, and I could hear the edge of disbelief in my voice.

Raffaele chuckled softly, brushing his hand through his hair. "Okay, that one was a bit of a stretch," he admitted. "How about this one? Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

I sighed softly but still couldn't help the flicker of interest in my eyes. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because he was outstanding in his field!" he said, laughing at his own joke.

It took everything in me not to laugh, but I couldn't hold back the smile. It was small, but it was there. The smallest tug at the corners of my lips, the smallest warmth in my chest.

Raffaele's face lit up, his grin practically glowing. "There it is!" he said, like he'd just won a prize. "Told you I could make you smile, love."

I'd never seen someone so genuinely happy to be around me.

I didn't answer but something about what he said gave me a small feeling of confidence.

"Can I get up?" I whispered, my voice still hoarse.

Raffaele's brow furrowed immediately. He stood up and took a step closer, his face filled with concern. "You don't have to do anything, sweetheart. You've been through a lot. Let's just rest a bit more."

I hesitated, not wanting to stay in bed any longer. I could hear everyone else moving around downstairs, and it was hard not to want to join them. The house felt different, quieter, like something was hanging in the air, but I wasn't sure what. I wanted to move, even if just to get away from the thick silence of the room.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound convincing, but my voice wavered.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with a gentle look. "You don't have to be fine, baby. It's okay. You need to rest."

I shook my head, trying to sit up. "But I want to go downstairs."

Raffaele immediately knelt beside the bed, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. "I don't think you should get up just yet. You've had a rough time, and your body needs a little more time to recover."

I winced slightly at the thought of being stuck here, but Raffaele was right. My body still felt weak. I wanted to push past it, to be strong, but I wasn't sure if I could.

He watched me, waiting patiently as I struggled with the decision.

Then, after a long pause, he added, "Sweetheart, if you want to go downstairs, I can help you. But only if you want me to. I'm not going to make you do anything you're not ready for."

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to feel independent, to prove I was okay, but another part of me was scared to move, scared of how weak I felt.

"Are you sure?" I asked, still unsure.

Raffaele's smile softened, and his eyes became even more tender. "I'm always sure when it comes to you, sweetheart. But I need you to tell me what you need. If you want to stay here, that's fine. But if you want to get up, I'm happy to carry you downstairs. But only if that's okay with you."

I blinked, feeling a mix of emotions welling up inside me. The idea of him carrying me was strange, but there was something comforting in his offer—something that made me feel like I wasn't alone.

"Can... can you carry me?" I asked, my voice quiet and unsure.

Raffaele's expression softened, and he immediately nodded, looking slightly surprised. "Of course, love. But only if you're comfortable with it. You tell me if you don't want me to, alright?"

I nodded slowly, a small sense of relief washing over me. "Okay... I think I want to. Just... be careful, please?"

His smile grew, his eyes full of warmth. "I'll always be careful with you, sweetheart. Always." Raffaele's voice was gentle, but it felt like a promise, steady and calm. "I'm gonna pick you up now, alright, sweetheart?"

My chest tightened at the question. It wasn't that I didn't want to be held, it was just... I wasn't used to it. Not like this, not with someone who cared, not someone who would hold me carefully, like I mattered. But Raffaele's voice was soft, and the way he looked at me—like he wouldn't do anything unless I said it was okay—made something inside me settle, just a little.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I won't do it if you're not." His tone was firm in a way that made me feel like I didn't have to be afraid. He wasn't going to push me into anything. I could say no, and that was enough.

I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice. My hands were still shaky, and I clutched at the blankets, not sure if I wanted to pull them tighter or let go. But something about the way he stood there, arms ready but patient, made me feel like I could trust him. Like it would be okay.

"Okay, sweetheart," he whispered, his hands moving carefully under my back and knees. The moment his arms slid beneath me, I felt my breath catch. He was warm, solid, and strong—but gentle too. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was giving me a choice even after I'd already said yes. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I had to brace myself.

When he lifted me, I felt a quick jolt of surprise, my body going rigid for just a second before I realized how steady his hold was. His hands were firm, but not crushing—just enough to make me feel safe, like nothing could happen to me if I stayed close to him.

"I've got you, bambina," he murmured, his voice low, calming. I could hear the soft beat of his heart under my ear, and with every step he took, I felt the tension inside me start to melt away, just a little.

It was strange, being carried. I wasn't used to feeling like this—so... light, almost weightless. And I wasn't used to being held with such care. My head rested against his chest, and the steady thump of his heart was grounding, like a reminder that I wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it was new, and I wasn't sure how to navigate it yet.

His arms were strong, supporting me, but it was his voice that kept me from feeling like I might slip away.

It was almost as if he was trying to reassure both of us. I felt the weight of my own body, but I also felt his strength, surrounding me, wrapping me up in something soft and gentle. My hands, still gripping his shirt, felt the slight tremor of his muscles beneath the fabric. But he was careful, every movement slow, making sure I didn't feel any jarring motion.

There was no rush, no urgency in his steps. Every one of his movements felt like he was checking in with me, making sure I was okay.

The best part was that I believed him. Deep down I knew he would protect me. I realized that I felt so safe and secure in his arms that I left out an involuntary sob.

He immediately froze.

"Is this alright?" His voice was so soft now, barely above a whisper. With a barely noticeable hint of panic. "Do you want to stay like this, sweetheart? Please tell me if you're uncomfortable. I promise I won't be mad, I want to help."

"I'm okay," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but they felt like the truth. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear him say that I was safe, that he wouldn't drop me, that he wouldn't rush. Every moment felt like he was reminding me that I was okay, that I didn't have to be afraid.

I didn't feel scared in his arms. It wasn't like the times before, when being held had felt wrong, when it had felt forced or harsh. This time, it was different. He was giving me the space to decide, to be still or move, but the comfort he provided made me feel calm, safe. I felt small in his arms, but not fragile, not like I would break if I let go.

I rested my cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, steady and familiar. I could feel the warmth of his skin against my face, and it was like everything in the world slowed down for just a moment. My body, still weak from the fever, felt like it could finally relax.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Raffaele repeated, his words like a promise.

I closed my eyes for a second, allowing myself to lean into him, to trust him, to let him carry me. "Thank you," I whispered, the words barely a breath against his shirt.

Raffaele's steps remained slow and careful, like he was carrying the most delicate thing in the world. I stayed close to him, pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my ear, trying to calm the fluttering in my own chest. It felt like everything was moving too fast, but his presence kept me anchored.

We were nearing the living room when he glanced down at me, checking my face like he always did. "You doing okay, amore?" His voice was soft, still gentle, but there was a spark of pride in it now.

I nodded, but I couldn't quite find the right words. I felt safer now, calmer, but also a little... overwhelmed. It felt like everything was changing too quickly, and I didn't know how to process all of it.

Raffaele pushed open the door to the living room, and immediately, the rest of the brothers looked up. They froze for a second, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Wait, she's up?" Nico's voice cracked a little with disbelief. His gaze shot from Raffaele to me, then back again.

Raffaele shifted me in his arms so that he could glance over at the others, still holding me close, but with a hint of a grin on his face. "Yup," he said proudly. "I got her up. She's feeling better, huh, sweetheart?"

I nodded again, not trusting my voice just yet. It felt like everyone was looking at me too much, too suddenly. I wanted to curl up in the couch and disappear, but Raffaele's hand on my back kept me steady.

Matteo looked a little concerned, but there was a soft smile playing at his lips. "I'm surprised," he admitted. "You're actually up and out of bed. How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I whispered, hoping that was enough to explain everything.

Nico didn't seem convinced, his brows furrowed as he took a step closer. "You carried her?" he asked, still staring at Raffaele like he couldn't believe it. "You? Seriously?"

Raffaele's grin widened, and he shifted me again, making sure I was comfortable. "Oh, yeah. You think I can't carry my little sister?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "You might've been too busy talking to your other brother back there, but I'm the one who actually had to get her up."

Nico scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, whatever. You think you can handle everything, huh?"

"Someone had to," Raffaele teased, moving a bit closer to Nico. "You're not exactly the carrying type, are you?"

"Oh, I can carry her," Nico shot back, but there was an edge to his voice. "Just not like that. She doesn't need to be coddled."

"Coddled?" Raffaele snorted, glancing down at me. "I'm just making sure she's comfortable. No harm in that." He lightly set me down on the couch next to Matteo, his hands still hovering for a moment, like he was double-checking that I was alright.

I sank into the soft cushions, feeling the warmth of the spot he'd just been holding me in. His hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment, checking in with me. I could feel the tension in his fingers, but his expression softened when he met my eyes.

The weirdest part was, I didn't actually want him to let me go.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice a little softer now, more reassuring.

I gave a small nod, the motion seeming to satisfy him. "Yeah."

"Well, you'll have to excuse Nico," Raffaele went on, turning back to face his brother. "He's just jealous. Doesn't know how to hold a sister without making it weird."

Nico shot him a glare, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the scowl. He rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a compliment, I guess. But don't think you're gonna outdo me in the 'big brother' department." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "I'll still carry her if I have to."

Raffaele leaned in close to Nico, grinning in that mischievous way he did when he was getting under someone's skin. "Well, you'll have to ask her first. Unlike you, I actually get her consent."

The two of them bickered back and forth, the words coming faster now, but I wasn't really listening anymore. My head was spinning a little, but in the best way. I felt... safe. I felt like I didn't have to hold my breath and wait for something to go wrong.

Even though Raffaele was teasing Nico, I could tell how much he cared for me—how careful he was when he picked me up, when he set me down, when he made sure I was okay. That feeling was like a little spark inside of me, making everything feel less heavy. Maybe things didn't have to feel so bad after all.

And then, after a long pause, as the brothers were still arguing about who got to carry me next—"I can carry her better!"—I couldn't help it. The tiniest giggle bubbled up from somewhere inside me, and I couldn't hold it back. It was barely more than a puff of air, but it felt like a wave of relief, like the pressure inside me just let go for a second.

Raffaele stopped mid-sentence, turning to look at me. His face softened, the teasing fading away as he noticed the smile tugging at my lips.

"There it is," he said, a warm grin spreading across his face. "That's what I like to see, sweetheart."

I bit my lip, trying to hold it back, but I couldn't stop it from creeping out again, this time a little louder. The sound felt so strange, but it was also... nice. It was like I hadn't laughed in forever, like I hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Raffaele gave a little chuckle too, shaking his head. "Guess that's a win for me, huh?" he said, leaning back a bit, his chest puffing out proudly.

Luca who had been spectating from the corner looked up at me after hearing the sound. Only then did I realize he had tears in his eyes. "You're doing great, farfalla."

The giggle still echoed in the air, and for a moment, everything felt a little more normal. Like maybe, just maybe, I could make it through all of this.