After Five Years of PTSD, The Don Heir Begged Me Back

Five years passed in a blink.We never became husband and wife in any real sense, but we got along, in our way.When he needed to be alone, I retreated to another room without a word. When he glared at me, I told him it was alright, that I'd always be there.Slowly, Dario began to tolerate me.He'd let me carry milk into his room and drink it in front of me. When he played with his guns in the garden, he let me sit nearby. When I was sick, he'd say — stiffly, looking at the wall — that I should go rest.But he was still so far away.So there was one more thing I wanted to do.The Vellari Famiglia held a family dinner that night. The timing was right — every member of the family at the table, the mood easy, Dario calm. No outburst all evening.I gripped the box. My palms were already damp.I had been working on this gift for a long time. It was something Dario had wanted. He would love it. I was sure."Dario," I said, my eyes bright with nerves and excitement, "I have something for you.

The next morning, I came downstairs and there she was. Bianca.She hadn't gone home.She saw me and smiled. "Sophie, since I'm basically your older sister, I thought I'd stay a few days — and help with Dario's recovery while I'm here. You don't mind, do you?"Before I could answer, Dario cut in fast. "Stay. Anytime. Don't — worry about her." He added: "This isn't her house. The one who was supposed to marry me — wasn't her. She can't do anything right."It was like a slap.Bianca used to say the same things to me when we were small."This isn't your house. Get out."But the convent hadn't been my house either.What did a home even look like? I couldn't remember.Maybe it was time I went and found my own.Dario put Bianca in the best guest room in the main house — the one next to his bedroom. South-facing, with a view of the entire garden. My room was tucked into the easternmost corner. From my window I looked out at a patch of empty ground.I sat in front of the dressing table, staring

While I waited for the offer letter, I decided to go out for a few days. With Bianca there, Dario wouldn't notice I was gone.I pulled out an old cloth bundle and packed the things that were mine.There were only four.The handkerchief the convent's mother superior had given me. At fifteen, I'd pressed it to Dario's bleeding palm. I'd washed it many times since, but never thrown it away.The white dress I'd worn the first time I met Dario. I couldn't fit into it anymore.The melted, blackened fragments of the pocket watch I had quietly retrieved from the fireplace.And one old photograph from when I was seven, just brought to the Salvatore house — empty-eyed.Dario was right. This wasn't my house. The things that belonged to me had always been few.As I left my room, I ran into him.He glanced at the bundle in my hands and frowned. "Trash. Throwing it out?"I shook my head. "No."His eyes went over me, lingered on the plain, old coat I was wearing."Ugly."I didn't want to take a singl

The car drove through the gates of the estate, and I saw Dario.The old Don gave a small, knowing smile."He hasn't agreed to see anyone. Came out as soon as he heard you were coming home."But when I stepped out of the car, his look was cold."Hate you. Liar."You won't have to hate me much longer. We'll never see each other again.I said it silently to myself.I didn't answer. I kept my head down and walked toward the house. As I passed him, his body went tight.Neither of us spoke.The next day I was up early — half past five — and downstairs.I lined up his medications by time of day. The new nurse, Marta, stood beside me with a small notebook."Seven a.m., the first pill. One tablet, with water at about forty degrees. Too hot, he'll frown but won't say it. Too cool, he sets the cup straight back down. Watch his face. If he picks it up and puts it down, the temperature is wrong. Make a fresh cup."She was writing as fast as she could."Half an hour before lunch, the second and thir

The next day, Dario broke his own rule and asked me into the study.I paused. I didn't move.He looked like he wanted to come over and lead me by the hand. In the end he just gestured."Come in. From now on — you can come in."I walked into the study. There was something new on the desk.A pocket watch.I knew it.It was the one I had hunted down and had remade. The one he had thrown into the fire. I still had its melted fragments hidden away.Dario's fingers traced the edge of the watch."Let's go away — together," he said suddenly. "Somewhere you'd like. A trip."His mouth was set tight. He was nervous.I let out a breath."Alright." We may as well say goodbye properly.We went to Sardinia.We took the Vellari private plane, but Dario was anxious the whole flight. He clung to my hand the entire time. His sweat was soaking through my palm.I couldn't help saying, "Let's go back."He shook his head."No.""With — you."The villa we were staying in, in Castelsardo, was beautiful. He did