Be Careful With My Heart

(Pamela)..I HAVE BEEN crying for the past two hours.Maybe even longer because I lost count. The tears keep pouring uncontrollably, and I keep digging into my handbag to pull out more tissue wipes. The same bag that my little sister, Anna, had gifted me on my last birthday. The memory brings a fresh round of tears to my eyes.I still can’t believe that I won’t see Anna ever again. It’s as if I’m in a nightmare that just doesn’t want to end. I desperately want to wake up, to hold my little sister again, to stroke her long, black hair and tell her that everything is going to be OK. But everything is not going to be OK. Because Anna is dead now.She died three hours ago, while pushing out her baby. I thought she was going to make it. She had a very determined look on her face that I have never seen before. I had even held her hand throughout the delivery process, whispering words of encouragement in her ears.“You can do this Anna,” I whispered. “Just one last push.”“Yes, Anna,” the

(Pamela)..I’M SEATED at my kitchen table, a bowl of mushroom soup in front of me. But I’m not looking at my plate, rather at the thick stack of legal documents right next to the bowl. My hands tremble as I read the name at the top: Massimo D’Amato.I can barely breathe.“You’re joking, right?” I ask no-one in particular. I’m still finding it hard to believe that that man had actually kept to his words.His last statement echoes through my head and I shiver slightly: See you in court.Erik lets out a soft whimper from his crib, right next to the couch, where I can keep a close eye on him from the kitchen. It’s as if he can sense my distress at everything that’s been happening.Clara, another one of my childhood friends, leans against the counter. She doesn't look too happy either. “I wish I were. They’re coming after Erik, Pam. They’re going to fight tooth and nail.”I get up from the table and begin to pace around the tiny space of my apartment. My head is already aching from think

(Pamela)..THE WEIGHT OF the contract in my hands is a constant reminder that this is a very big mistake. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be entertaining this ridiculous offer.But I find myself still skimming through the terms of the contract. It's a whooping 12 pages and each page ends up being worse than the last one.Massimo is seated across from me. He doesn't say anything but his eyes speak volumes. I can’t bear to look at him so I focus on the document that I'm holding.“Let me get this straight,” I begin, my voice shaky. “You want me to give up two years of my life, parade around as your wife, and pretend to be part of some picture-perfect family ... all to make you look good in the eyes of the media?”“It's not just about me,” Massimo responds in a calculated tone. “Like I said earlier, it's also about Erik. He needs a home. Stability. Safety. You can’t give him that alone.”My chest tightens as his words strike a nerve. “You don't know what I can or can't give him.”

(Pamela)..Massimo moves before I hit the ground.It all happens so fast like a scene out of a horror movie. One minute, I'm swaying out of control, and the next minute, his hands are gripping mine in an attempt to stop my fall.His touch is warm and solid, and a gentle comfort from the biting cold. My head tells me to pull away because he's the enemy here. But I don’t. Instead, I allow myself to relax for a bit and everything else comes to a standstill.The tears that have been building up since the funeral finally lets out and I begin to wail into his chest. I'm completely consumed by my grief to even notice that I'm tearing up in Massimo’s arms, of all people.For a long moment, we stand there as I cry uncontrollably with the rain pounding against us. My body trembles, and I hate myself for showing weakness in front of him. But it feels good to let all the pain out.Massimo’s as stiff as a statue for the first few seconds and then he exhales. His voice is quieter when he spe

Massimo ..PAMELA BROWN HAS a habit of storming into my life like she has control over it.First was at the funeral. Now, my office. Always demanding explanations. Always wanting to know why I did what I did, or even better what my brother was up to.I let her scream at me, let her slam her phone on my desk in front of my two business partners. I even let her throw her little accusations my way. And not because I have suddenly turned a new leaf. My nephew is very much the reason we've come this far and I'm willing to compromise a little to keep things that way.And now, as she stands before me, arms crossed, blue eyes burning with fury, I can’t help but find this entire thing amusing.She actually believes she has the right to be upset.“I'm not implying anything, but let's go over what has happened lately, shall we?” I respond in a carefully controlled tone, while catching the scent of her floral perfume.To be honest, I wouldn’t have brought this up if she hadn't barged into my of