UPSIDE DOWN

~ 48 ~

Papa

The ICU feels colder than any battlefield I've ever walked into. Machines hum, steady and cruel, marking time in heartbeats that aren't mine. My daughter, my little girl,  lies there, motionless, pale as the sheets beneath her.

There's a white bandage wrapped around her head, and a tube running past her lips, connected to a ventilator that breathes for her. Every breath she takes is borrowed.

I pull up the chair, my knees trembling. "Hey, sweetheart," I whisper, voice cracking halfway through. "It's Papa."

Nothing. No twitch, no sound.

I reach out, brush her hair back gently. "You used to complain I'd ruin your hairstyle doing this." A small, broken laugh escapes. "You were always so particular."

The silence that follows could kill a man.

"I never meant for this," I whisper, throat tight. "I spent years planning this war, thinking I could control how it ends. That if I made the right move, no one else would bleed. But I forgot the truth, didn't I? Blood doesn't listen."

Her fingers are cold. I hold them anyway.

"I should've come back sooner. I should've protected you better. I'm so sorry, Sylvie. You didn't deserve any of this."

I lean closer. "You hear me? You don't give up. Not now. You've fought through worse."
I pause, swallowing hard. "Just come back. Come back to us."

I sit there until a nurse taps my shoulder, voice soft. "Time's up, Mr. Bernardi."

When I stand, my knees almost buckle. And I whisper, barely audible, "Please... just one more miracle."

Francesco

The second I walk in, I forget how to breathe. She looks smaller than I remember. And I hate hospitals. I hate this smell. I hate these machines. I hate that I can't fix this.

"Hey, baby girl," I whisper, forcing a smile. "Guess what? The nurses said your chart says you're stable. Stable's good. Stable's really, really good."

My voice cracks on the last word. God, she looks just like the kid who showed up in our home a year ago, terrified, fragile, but still somehow smiling through it all.

"You remember when I taught you how to bake brownies and you almost burned down the kitchen?" I say, laughing quietly through tears. "You said it was my fault because I didn't tell you not to put metal in the microwave."

A tear falls onto the blanket. I don't even wipe it.

"I'd kill for that burnt batch right now."

I take her hand, squeeze it gently. "You made me proud, you know that? You healed more hearts than I ever could. You made us a family again."

The ventilator hisses. It's the only reply I get.

I lean closer and whisper, "But listen here, missy, you're not allowed to leave me with these idiots. You promised me birthday cake next month. You don't break promises."

I kiss her forehead softly and whisper, "I love you, kid." Then I walk out before I completely fall apart.

Aurelio

I don't want to go in. God knows I don't.

But I do. Because I have to.

The sight hits me like a bullet, her body wired up, still, her lips pale. I stand frozen at the door for a few seconds before I can move closer.