Page 221 of Dante

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I watch them talk. Normal conversation. Normal family dynamics. If I didn't know what these people were capable of, I might believe this was just a regular breakfast.

But I do know.

And I can't stop thinking about Dante.

He sits beside me, eating mechanically. Fork to plate. Fork to mouth. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

His body is here. His mind is somewhere else entirely.

It's been like this since that night. Since he met Alejandro and came back with shadows in his eyes and lies on his tongue.

I knew he was lying then. I know it now.

But every time I try to ask, he deflects. Changes the subject. Kisses me until I forget the question.

"Marina?"

I blink. Sophia is watching me.

"Sorry. What?"

"I asked if you wanted more coffee."

"Oh. Yes. Please."

She pours. Her eyes stay on my face a moment too long.

I force a smile. Take another sip.

Across the table, Bruno is watching Dante with the same intensity I feel. Like he knows something is wrong but can't quite name it.

Dante doesn't notice. Or doesn't care.

He's drifting again. Present but absent. Here but gone.

I want to reach for his hand under the table. I want to shake him and demand answers. I want to understand what Alejandro said that broke something inside him.

But I can't.

Not here. Not with everyone watching.

So I drink my coffee and pretend everything is fine.

Just like he taught me.

Dante

The bedroom door opens.

Marina steps inside.

So fucking beautiful.

I've been lying here for twenty minutes. Staring at the ceiling. Counting the seconds until she came back.

She's here. She's real. She's mine.

Before everything falls apart.

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