Chapter 8

But time wouldn't turn back, and I would never return.

My mamma went to my room every day, cleaning, dusting, and arranging the things I left behind.

She often sat on my bed, running her hand over the sheets, whispering to herself again and again, "Camilla, I was wrong. I shouldn't have favored Lydia or ignored you. If you could come back, I'd give you all the love, please?"

But the only answer she ever received was silence.

My papa shut himself away in his study and rarely came out.

For the first time in his life, he truly reflected on everything he had done. He remembered how he'd threatened me with the famiglia and how he had never once cared about my health or my feelings. The regret gnawed at him until it became unbearable.

Matteo came to the cemetery every single day to see me. He brought a bouquet of my favorite white roses and sat in front of my gravestone, talking to me as if I were still there. He told me about his remorse, about my parents, and about Lydia's fate.

"Ca