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The Language of Silence
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2025-08-10 08:00:56CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE
LUCCHESE ESTATEHe didn’t say anything after that.And neither did I.Dante just let his hand fall back to the mattress, fingers grazing the sheets like he forgot how to hold anything that didn’t hurt.So I stayed.I stayed there, beside him, even when my knees ached and the soreness between my thighs reminded me of everything we did last night. I adjusted the gauze one last time, smoothing it gently. Then reached for the salve, dabbing it against the smaller cuts on his side, ones he probably didn’t even feel, but I did.His breath slowed. Not asleep. Just watching.I didn’t look at him.If I did, something might break inside me.And I couldn’t break. Not yet. Not until everything I buried had its revenge.Instead, I picked up the cloth. Wiped away the dried blood on his abdomen. His neck. The smudge on his jawline that wasn’t mine. I didn’t speak. I didn’t ask.
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