Maia

23

Word Count: 1273

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MAIA'S POV

I gently knock on Alessandro's office door, feeling a slight tremor in my hand as the weight of my question about Papa settles in my chest. "Come in," I hear him call from the other side, his voice steady and inviting. As I push the door open, I'm met with the familiar sight of him seated behind his polished oak desk. His hair is impeccably styled, each strand in place, mirroring the crispness of his tailored suit, which enhances his authoritative presence.

Alessandro is engrossed in a stack of paperwork, his brows furrowed in concentration. But as soon as he looks up and catches my eye, a small smile breaks through his serious demeanour. It's a rare sight; I've never witnessed him smile at anyone else yet. The warmth of that smile brings a sense of relief and comfort, making me grateful that he reserves it for me. In that moment, I feel a little bit stronger, ready to ask the question that's been weighing on my mind.

As I stepped inside, I walked toward the plush couch, the very spot where I had settled during my last visit. I couldn't resist the urge to grab the fluffy white blanket that Alessandro had thoughtfully brought for me. I wrapped it snugly around myself as a sense of comfort enveloped me.

I glanced up and noticed Alessandro pause in his tasks. He turned his attention toward me, a concerned look crossing his face as he made his way to where I sat. "Hi, principessa. Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine care.

I nodded slowly, feeling a slight tremor in my hands that I couldn't quite shake off. "How was therapy today?" Alessandro asked, his voice low and gentle. I looked up at him, forcing a smile to ease the weight in my chest. "It was good; I really liked it," I responded, although my thoughts were already drifting back to Papa.

As I spoke, memories of the session flooded my mind. "When I was in the room, Tom, the therapist, asked about our parents, and it made me realise how little I know about Papa," I admitted, my voice trailing off as uncertainty crept in. I avoided his gaze, feeling a mix of curiosity and anxiety about the subject.

Al glanced at me, his expression revealing a deep understanding as he picked up on my discomfort. "I asked Enzo about it," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "He mentioned something about Papa being in a coma." The words hung heavy in the air between us, stirring a desire for answers and a sense of loss I hadn't fully acknowledged until now.

"How... how did Papa end up in a coma?" I mumbled my voice barely a whisper as I stared down at the blanket draped over my lap. Each thread seemed to absorb my anxious energy. I felt the couch dip slightly as Alessandro shifted closer to me, his presence both comforting and intimidating. He leaned in, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, an unspoken offer of support amidst the turmoil that was swirling in my mind.

"Papa was shot," he replied softly, his tone gentle, almost like he was handling something fragile. I looked up at him, and fear gripped my heart, making it race. The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. "Papa was shot. Why?" I asked immediately, my voice trembling with a mix of confusion and dread.

For a brief moment, Alessandro hesitated, his eyes shifting as if searching for the right words to express the weight of what he was about to say. He inhaled deeply and finally spoke, "Remember how I told you about the power we hold through our business and how it attracts jealousy from others?" I nodded, recalling the discussions we had after the car chase.

"Well," he continued, his voice lowering as if he were revealing a closely guarded secret, "someone was ambitious enough to try and expand their own empire, and in their desperation, they attempted to kill Papa to seize control of his power."

Alessandro's expression shifted, reflecting a mixture of concern and frustration. I could sense that there was more to this story, more than he was willing to share. Despite the unease in my stomach, I nodded to encourage him to keep talking. But he didn't.

"Can I see him?" I whispered softly, my heart racing at the thought of seeing Papa for the first time in years.

Alessandro smiled warmly. "Yes, do you want to go now?" he asked, his voice inviting. I nodded eagerly, anticipation bubbling within me. Al stood up, his movements graceful, and he extended his hand towards me. I took it, feeling a sense of comfort as he led me out of his office.

I couldn't help but ask, "Where are we going?" My mind raced with possibilities, wondering whether Papa was at home or in the hospital.

"To Papa's room," Alessandro replied softly.

As we walked, my brows furrowed in confusion. I had never been to Papa's room before, despite my belief that I had explored every nook and cranny of the house.

We ascended the staircase to a floor I had never explored before. Alessandro led the way, his footsteps steady, until we reached a white wooden door that stood out against the muted wallpaper. He paused for a moment, releasing my hand and turning to me with a reassuring smile as he opened the door, gesturing for me to enter first. I felt my heart race as I returned his smile and stepped inside.

As I crossed the threshold, my eyes were immediately drawn to the figure lying on the king-sized bed before me. I took careful, tentative steps closer, a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling within me. The closer I got, the more I noticed the striking resemblance between this man and Lorenzo. It was as if I were looking into a mirror that revealed the passage of time. His hair, once dark, was now streaked with silver, and fine lines etched across his forehead and the corners of his eyes told stories of laughter and sorrow. Although his body appeared frail and vulnerable, I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the blankets, a reassuring sign that he was still with us.

Glancing back at Alessandro, I caught the concern in his eyes as he observed my reaction. Swallowing hard, I mustered the courage to speak. "Can I touch him?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alessandro nodded slowly, encouraging me with a gentle expression. I turned back to the bed, my heart pounding as I reached out and gently took hold of Papa's hand. To my surprise, it felt warm against my skin, a soft reminder of the connection we shared. I gave it a small squeeze, feeling a rush of emotion wash over me as a stray tear slipped down my cheek.

"Hi Papa," I whispered, feeling a mix of hope and sadness. "It's me, Maia." The words hung in the air, filled with longing as I stood there, wishing for a response.

"You might not remember me, but I'm your daughter," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. The words lingered in the air.

"He remembers you, Maia. He has never stopped looking for you," Alessandro said softly, taking a small step closer to me. His hand found my shoulder, a comforting gesture that calmed the storm of emotions raging inside me.

"He loves you, Maia," he continued his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a warmth that made my heart ache.