Amelia's afternoon had felt like a breath of fresh air. After spending time with Clara, she had begun to feel like herself again, reconnecting with the side of her that was free from the heavy weight of her marriage to Dante. The simple conversations, the laughter, and even the small acts of normalcy had given her a sense of peace she hadn't realized she'd been missing.
But as the car approached the driveway, she noticed something that quickly shattered her calm.
The house was dark, despite it being late afternoon. The usually open gates were shut, and the windows appeared dim, as though no one was home. Amelia's heart skipped a beat. Something was off.
"Eva," she whispered, her voice tense, "why is the house so quiet?"
Eva, who had been in the front passenger seat, stiffened slightly as she glanced back at Amelia. "I don't know, Miss Moretti. But... I don't like this. It's not usual for Dante to not be here when we return."
The driver eased the car up the driveway, the sound of tires crunching over gravel louder than usual. Amelia felt a knot twist in her stomach. Her mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. Could something have happened to Dante? Did he find out about her trip with Clara?
As the car came to a stop, the front door of the mansion slammed open.
Amelia's heart leaped into her throat as she saw Dante standing there, his posture rigid with anger, his eyes darkened with worry and something far more intense. His jaw was clenched, his fists tight at his sides. The moment their eyes met, a surge of emotions ran through her—relief, confusion, and a tinge of fear.
He didn't wait for the car to fully stop before striding toward it, his footsteps hard and purposeful. Amelia instinctively reached for the door handle, but Eva was faster, opening the door for her.
"Miss Moretti," Eva whispered under her breath, a warning in her tone, but Amelia was already stepping out of the car, her body tense.
Before she could speak, Dante was there, towering over her. His gaze flicked from her face to the car, then back to her, anger radiating from him in waves.
"Where the hell have you been?" His voice was low, but it carried the weight of someone who was barely holding himself together. His eyes were dark, like a storm threatening to break.
Amelia froze, her chest tightening at the raw emotion in his words. "I... I went out for a bit," she said cautiously, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't quite explain it, but the anger in his eyes made her feel small, exposed. She wasn't sure whether to explain herself or to apologize.
"Out for a bit?" Dante repeated, his tone sharp. "You're my wife, Amelia. You don't just leave without telling me. Especially not after everything that happened last night." He took a step closer, his gaze hardening. "What were you thinking?"
She could feel the heat of his anger and the panic beneath it. It was clear he wasn't just angry that she had left, but that she hadn't communicated with him.
"I... I needed to clear my head," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of his gaze. "I'm sorry, Dante. I didn't mean to worry you."
"You didn't just worry me, Amelia," he said, his voice low but cutting. "You disrespected me." His words struck her like a physical blow, and she instinctively recoiled, a pang of hurt surging through her.
Dante stepped back, his anger turning into something darker. "You can't just go off without telling me where you are. I've told you before—this is dangerous. You think I don't have enemies? You think they won't use this against me? Against us?"
Amelia's heart twisted, the anger in his voice making her feel small and insignificant. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she said softly, though she could feel her own frustration rising. "I just needed a moment, Dante. I'm not a prisoner here."
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze hard but searching. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and began to walk back toward the house. Amelia stood there, a part of her wanting to chase after him, to explain everything. But another part of her—an exhausted, overwhelmed part—wanted to shrink back and retreat to her room.
Eva stepped forward, her face neutral. "I think it's best if we give him some time to calm down, Miss Moretti," she suggested softly. "But it's clear that he cares for you. He just... doesn't know how to express it."
Amelia nodded numbly, her heart heavy. "I know," she whispered. "But I don't know how to deal with this, Eva. I don't know how to be what he wants me to be."
Eva gave her a comforting smile before turning back toward the house. "You don't have to be perfect, Miss Moretti. You're already enough. Now, let's go inside. He'll cool down."
As Amelia entered the house, she found Dante in the living room, standing by the large windows, his back to her. He hadn't heard her approach, but she could feel the tension in the air as she stepped into the room.
"Dante..." She said his name softly, hesitantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just needed a break."
He didn't turn around, but she could hear the quiet frustration in his voice. "You don't understand, Amelia," he said, his voice tight. "You think I'm angry because you went out? That's not it. I'm angry because you didn't trust me enough to let me know where you were. I'm worried about you—always have been. But you keep pushing me away."
Amelia's chest tightened as she approached him. "I didn't mean to push you away, Dante," she said softly, her voice full of emotion. "I just didn't want to become someone who's... controlled. Someone who can't breathe. I need to be more than just a wife. I need to be me."
Dante turned around slowly, his eyes searching her face. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, finally, he sighed, his expression softening slightly.
"I'm sorry too," he muttered, his voice quiet but sincere. "I'm not trying to control you, Amelia. But I can't help worrying. This world we're in... it's dangerous. I just want to protect you."
Amelia swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotion hit her. She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I know, Dante," she whispered. "I just... I need you to trust me too. I need you to see me for who I really am."
Dante's eyes softened as he reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. "I do, Amelia," he murmured. "I do. More than you know."
And in that moment, everything seemed to pause the world outside, the chaos of their lives. All that remained was the quiet understanding between them. It was fragile, uncertain, but it was a beginning.