Naples, Italy. Evening. Inside one of the city’s private hospitals. The smell of disinfectant and the sounds of medical machines filled the room. Two young men sat there—one thirty-three, the other thirty. Despite their apparent strength, in that moment, they were as fragile as children. "The doctor said your condition will improve. We’re with you, Mom," Lorenzo said softly, trying to steady his voice as he stepped closer to her. He didn’t hold her gaze for long, as if afraid his eyes would betray him. "Of course. Everything will be fine," Marcello added, gently patting her hand. He then exchanged a brief look with Lorenzo—one that revealed everything words could not. Isabella lay on the bed, her face pale, her breathing weak, yet her eyes still carried an indescribable love."Marcello… Lorenzo… take care of each other, my loves," she whispered in a faint, exhausted voice. "Mom, you’ll be okay. We’re here. We won’t leave you," Lorenzo reassured her, tenderly strokin
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