Shadows of Affection (GxG)

Chapter 46: The Fall

As Alessia walked back into the lavish, albeit cold and impersonal, mansion she'd been calling "home" these past weeks, she felt an almost unbearable weight settle in her chest. The guilt of how she'd been treating Lily gnawed at her, sharper now than ever. Each curt call, each irritable response, echoed back to her as she trudged up the grand staircase, too exhausted even to take off her coat. She knew it wasn't fair to her principessa, but the lack of proper sleep, the relentless negotiations, and the constant vigilance required of her in this hostile territory had frayed her nerves. The one thing she needed was the one thing she didn't have: Lily.

For a moment, she leaned against the wall in the dim hallway, eyes shut, letting her mind drift back to the quiet warmth of their bedroom back home, the scent of Lily's hair, the way her laugh could ease even Alessia's darkest moods. She hadn't realised it until now, but Lily wasn't just a comfort—she was home, her sanctuary. Here, without her, Alessia felt untethered, as if she were adrift in a violent sea with no safe harbor.

Francesca and Luciano, who'd followed her back to the mansion, exchanged a look as they saw their leader pause. Concerned but knowing better than to push her too much, Francesca took a step forward. "Alessia, we've nearly wrapped up everything. Let Luciano and I handle the final arrangements tomorrow. You should rest; you've done more than enough."

Alessia nodded, barely managing a tired smile. "Thank you, Francesca. You're right. I think it's time I stepped back... and maybe for good. Lily needs me, and I can't... I can't keep leaving her like this. We'll finish tomorrow, but then I'm leaving the rest with you two. Wrap up anything outstanding and return home yourselves."

Francesca gave a nod of understanding, seeing the determination in Alessia's eyes. Luciano, silent but equally aware of Alessia's strain, gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze before both headed toward their own quarters for the night.

When Alessia finally entered her bedroom, she dropped her coat and sank into the plush armchair near the window, her eyes drawn to the city lights stretching into the distance. Paris was beautiful, but it felt empty. Every flickering light, every shadowed street only reminded her of how far she was from the only place that mattered. She let herself picture Lily, her smile, her touch, and the way she had always been her anchor, even when Alessia was lost in the shifting tides of her dangerous world.

With a heavy sigh, she leaned back, running a hand through her hair. She promised herself that this was it—the moment she'd take control of her own life again, for her sake and for Lily's. No more endless separations, no more pushing her principessa away. As soon as this was over, she'd be back in Lily's arms, and she'd make things right. No more cracks. No more distance.

For now, though, the only thing left to do was survive one last night in a cold, empty room that wasn't hers.

Settling deeper into the armchair, Alessia reached over to the small drawer beside her, retrieving a beautiful, thick sheet of paper and a fountain pen. Taking a steadying breath, she began to write, pouring out words that had sat heavy on her heart since she first arrived in France. Each stroke of the pen felt like an unspoken apology, a way of reaching out to Lily even while miles separated them.

My beloved Lily, my heart, mia amore,

I hardly know where to begin, and I can only hope that by the time you read this, you can understand what I haven't been able to say out loud. I am so deeply sorry for how distant I've been. My work here, this relentless fight, it consumes every part of me, but none of it, not one piece of it, means more than you. I'm failing you when I'm short-tempered or cruel, when I let the weight of this life fall on us both, instead of just me.

She paused, closing her eyes and remembering the warmth of Lily's hand in hers, the quiet mornings they would share, her smile that could soothe her worst days. She continued, her hand writing faster as she let herself be honest in a way she hadn't been with anyone else.