002 — THE SWITCH

VIOLA

A tiny finger pokes my nose, and I smell candy. Strange. My eyes are too heavy, and when I try to lift them, I hear a familiar voice.

"Mamaaaa."

I gasp, my eyes flying open. Fiorella is kneeling over me in yellow dinosaur pyjamas, grinning.

My heart starts beating out of rhythm, air barely reaching my lungs.

She's not real... is she?

I stare at her, my blood roaring in my ears. Then she blinks, and I let out a scream.

Fiorella screams too and bursts into giggles, burying her face against my neck. She probably thinks I'm only playing with her. She doesn't understand that she was dead. I held her cold, lifeless body. How is this happening?

Tears well up in my eyes as I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. Her curls tickle my neck.

She's so warm. So... alive.

If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up.

A sob tears out of me when I feel the steady pulse on her throat. The last time she was in my arms, there had been no signs of life.

And yet…

Fiorella squirms in my grip, pushing at my shoulders. That’s when I notice that there’s no pain in my pelvis.

"Mama, squish," she complains, and I release her, only for her to notice the tears on my face.

"Mama sad?" She pushes her small lips into a tiny pout, her lower lip wobbling.

"Oh, my baby," I choke, peppering kisses all over her face until she starts squirming again, squealing loudly.

If this is real... then—

I glance at the calendar on the nightstand, my eyes widening. Five months before Fiorella's death. And today... today's the day I get pushed down the stairs. Courtesy of my husband's first love.

Gritting my teeth, I release my daughter and get out of bed, nearly breaking down once more because of the relief of being able to stand without being in excruciating agony.

I have to leave this house with my daughter. I can ask for a divorce later. I just have to pack quickly enough to bypass Cosimo—

"Papa!"

My head snaps towards the door.

Cosimo stands in the doorway, his chest heaving. He has one hand braced against the frame, and he's still wearing yesterday's charcoal shirt and black trousers. The shirt is wrinkled, two buttons undone, and his thick black hair is a mess.

His amber eyes find Fiorella first. Then me.

For a moment he looks nauseated. He straightens quickly.

"Morning, princess." The sound of his deep, raspy voice makes my throat tighten.

Fiorella throws herself at him. He catches her and presses her against his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head.

"Papa, squish!" she complains again.

He lets out a strange, unsteady laugh and loosens his hold. "Sorry, baby."

I watch him kiss her forehead again and again. He used to do that every morning before work, back when we used to have breakfast together.

Wait, why is he even here?

"Why's Mama crying?" he asks.

"Dunno." Fiorella points at me. "She kissed me everywhere."

Cosimo looks up, and I wish he wouldn't. That tiny mole below his left eye is exactly where I remember it. I used to kiss it whenever he was in a bad mood. God, I was ridiculous about this man.

He carries Fiorella towards me.

"What happened, Lillà?"

My stomach knots up at the familiar nickname.

I step away. "I'm leaving with Fiorella. I'll send for the rest of our things."

"Are you serious?"

For a second, I almost tell him about the kidnapping.

Instead, I walk to the wardrobe and drag out a suitcase.

"Viola." His voice follows me. "Talk to me."

"We've done plenty of talking, Cosimo. You never listen."

I remember what happened on this exact day. I remember the way he’d defended Corina even though I had landed in the hospital bed because of her.

Last night he stayed at Corina's house because Enzo was away on business. Her pathetic excuse had been that she was frightened of sleeping alone. When I called, Cosimo told me not to start an argument.

I fold one of Fiorella's dresses and put it in the suitcase.

Cosimo takes it straight back out.

I stare at him. "Give me that."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

I look up, accidentally meeting his piercing gaze. Hot tears well up in my eyes.

I used to fight for him with everything in me. He used to be my safe place. Now, look at us.

I’m done.

He adjusts Fiorella on one hip, the little yellow dress dangling from his other hand. I reach for it, and he moves it behind his back.

"Cosimo,” I growl.

"Where are you planning to take our daughter?"

"It's none of your business!"

Slowly, he puts Fiorella down. "Go find Pickles, sweetheart."

She runs towards her toys.

Cosimo returns the dress to the suitcase, but when I try to step around him, he braces a hand against the wardrobe, trapping me.

My knees tremble as his intoxicating scent floods my nostrils.

"Move."

"Just tell me what’s wrong." Those words nearly make me falter.

Cosimo doesn't plead. He argues, orders, and fixes things without asking what anybody wants. But I definitely heard the plea in his voice.

And when I lift my face to tell him exactly what he's done, I notice that his hand is shaking.

My eyes go wide, and he drops it.

What on earth is wrong with him?

"Last night," I say, "you were with Corina."

"Enzo was away. She—"

"I know. She needed you." My throat tightens. "There's always a reason she needs you."

He reaches for my face, and for an awful second I want to lean into his palm. I remember sitting on the bathroom counter while he removed my makeup, kissing him until he complained that I was making the job impossible.

Then I remember his voice on the phone.

‘Go home, Viola.’

I smack his arm away. "Don't touch me."

Cosimo lowers his hand immediately, his jaw tightening. "Viola—"

From somewhere outside the bedroom, a woman’s voice pierces through the air. "Fiorella! Where's my darling girl?"

Oh, no.

"Auntie Corina!" Fiorella shouts.

She races past us before either of us can stop her.

"Fiorella!" I run after her, my heart pounding.

My daughter is already halfway down the upstairs corridor, her bare feet slapping against the floor.

Corina is already coming up the main staircase.

She spots Fiorella and spreads her arms. "Come to Auntie!"

I catch Fiorella just before she reaches the stairs and lift her against my chest.

"Mama!" she protests. "I want Auntie!"

"Later, sweetheart."

Corina's smile disappears. "Goodness, Viola. What's got into you?"

"Excuse me."

I turn to leave.

"Is this because Cosimo stayed with me last night?" she asks. "Enzo was away. I really didn't think you'd be so upset."

Of course she didn't.

In my first life, that was exactly how this argument began. I accused her of interfering in my marriage. She caught my arm when I tried to walk away. And in the blink of an eye, I was at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move.

The memory makes me grip Fiorella tighter. "I'm not having this conversation."

Corina climbs the final step and catches my wrist.

No.

"Viola, don't walk away when I'm speaking to you."

She pulls. I jerk my arm free, turning my body to shield Fiorella who squirms in my arms.

Corina's hand slips from mine. One of her heels catches on the edge of the top step, and she staggers backward. She reaches for the banister but misses.

"Corina!" I gasp.

She tumbles down the eight marble steps, striking the edge of the last one before landing heavily on her side.

Her scream sends a chill through me.

“Cosimo!” she cries. “My baby!”