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.
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