Chapter 26 Letting Go I
 
 
 
 
 
 
It was past 11 PM when Rossi entered the house, locking the door behind him. The darkness made it hard to see, with only a dim light on the staircase faintly illuminating the path. He walked inside and headed to the living room, sinking onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Raising a hand to his face, he rubbed it in exhaustion.
“You’re back?” Lyla’s voice startled him. He sat up straight and turned to see her standing there in her nightgown.
“You’re still awake?” he asked as he got to his feet, avoiding her gaze.
“Yes, I waited for you… in case you hadn’t eaten dinner,” she replied hesitantly.
“Don’t do this again,” he muttered curtly, brushing past her without a second glance.
Lyla stood frozen, her face paling at his bitter tone. She turned to watch him walk away, her eyes filled with sorrow. Though her hands itched to reach out and stop him, his distant demeanor stopped her in her tracks. She began to wonder if he truly despised her.
Rossi climbed the stairs swiftly, heading to his room. His mind felt like a tangled mess, a foggy confusion clouding his thoughts after days of relentless work tracking leads for his boss.
Once inside, he shed his suit jacket and tie, draping them over a chair. Slowly, he walked to his bed, unbuttoning his shirt to relieve the suffocating tightness.
He collapsed onto the mattress, releasing another deep sigh as he lay there. Closing his eyes, he let his body relax. But just as sleep was beginning to claim him, a knock sounded at the door, followed by it creaking open.
Rossi’s eyes snapped open as he sat up, turning toward the intruder.
“Would you like something to eat before bed?” Lyla asked softly, placing a glass of milk on the bedside table. Her concerned gaze met his, but he exhaled, his irritation evident.
“You shouldn’t come into my room. I don’t like it,” he stated coldly, unaware of how deeply his words cut her.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay… I’ll leave now,” Lyla replied with a small, sorrowful smile before leaving quietly.
“Damn it, what a fool!” Rossi muttered under his breath, frustrated and confused. He glanced at the glass of milk, hesitating before finally picking it up and drinking it all in one go. Then he set it back down and returned to bed.
Outside his room, Lyla leaned against the door, her silent tears trailing down her cheeks. She couldn’t understand how to act around him without earning his disdain. After a long moment, she straightened up, trying to steady her breathing. She returned to her room, her heart heavy as memories of his cold eyes and detached tone replayed in her mind.
All she wanted was a single smile, a gentle one, even just once.
 
In the morning
Rose woke earlier than usual. She quickly showered and dressed before heading out of her room, stopping in front of a certain door. Hesitation clouded her expression as she raised her hand to knock but let it fall, unable to summon the courage.
Just then, Martha approached, noticing Rose’s uncertainty.
“Why don’t you go in?” Martha asked.
Rose jumped at the sound, turning to face Martha before stepping back from the door.
“I… don’t think I should,” she stammered.
“Go on in. I’m sure he’s awake by now,” Martha encouraged her tone light.
Still hesitant, Rose finally nodded and walked to the door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked a few times, waiting. When there was no response, she slowly turned the doorknob and entered the room.
Inside, the room was empty, except for the sound of running water from the bathroom. She guessed that he must be showering. A moment later, the bathroom door opened, and Antonio emerged, wrapped in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips.
Rose’s cheeks flushed bright red at the sight of his bare chest. Though she had seen him shirtless before, it still made her heart race. Antonio walked toward her casually, completely unfazed.
“I thought you might still be asleep,” he said, his voice calm.
“Um… no, I’m awake,” she replied awkwardly.
“Help me out, will you?” he asked, his tone nonchalant yet tinged with mischief. He moved to the wardrobe, selecting a suit and laying it on the bed. When he picked up a pair of pants to put on, Rose immediately turned her back to him.
“I’m dressed now,” Antonio called teasingly after a moment.
Slowly, Rose turned around, relieved to see that he was now wearing black trousers. She approached, picking up his white shirt and helping him put it on. Antonio winced slightly as he raised his arms, the pain from his injury still evident.
“Does it still hurt?” Rose asked gently.
“Just a little,” he admitted, watching her closely as she buttoned his shirt.
Her gaze flicked to the handgun resting near his black suit jacket before returning to him, her thoughts unreadable.
“Something on your mind?” Antonio asked, his voice low and calm.
“No, nothing,” Rose replied, avoiding his eyes.
“You’re lying again,” he said, stepping closer. He gently cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him, though her gaze continued to shift away.
“Is it fear?” he asked softly.
“No,” she answered with a faint smile. She wanted to assure herself that she wasn’t afraid of the gun, even if she wasn’t fully at ease.
“Trust me, I’ll never point a gun at anyone… unless I have no other choice.”
“You don’t have to go that far. It’s a weapon to protect yourself,” she murmured.
Antonio’s lips curved into a small smile as his fingers brushed lightly against her lower lip.
“More than that, it’s protecting you.”