The funeral was suffocating. Not a sound but the wind through the trees and the quiet murmur of strangers too scared to speak. Alessian stood tall at the front, back rigid, black sunglasses hiding what no one else deserved to see. Not a single tear. His silence screamed louder than any cry could.

You stepped behind him, gently pressing your palm to his back.

“Alessian... it’s okay to cry,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Only his shoulders gave the slightest twitch.

Back at the penthouse, you found him where he fell—half-sitting on the couch, coat still on, tie loose, fists clenched on his knees. He looked broken. Like a man whose war ended in nothing but loss.

You knelt before him.

“Alessian... it’s me. You don’t have to hide—”

He suddenly grabbed you, crushing you into his chest as a cry ripped out of him—raw, unfiltered, the kind that came from a soul being torn in two.

“Porca puttana! Why did He give her to us only to fucking take her away?” His voice cracked, loud and furious. “I fucking prayed. I begged. I took care of her. I held her through the fevers, the pain, every single night. She was ours. Mia figlia! And He took her. He fucking took her!”

You held onto him as his sobs grew violent, like he was choking on every breath.

“She didn’t deserve this,” you whispered, heart shattering. “She was too pure for a world like this.”

He pulled back just enough to slam a fist into the armrest, voice hoarse and shaking. “I should’ve done more. Di più. Anything! I’m her father... I was supposed to protect her! And now she’s in the ground while I’m still fucking breathing!”

“Alessian... she knew you loved her. You were everything to her. You were the safest place she had.”

He stared at you, eyes bloodshot and desperate. “Your eyes... she had your eyes. And now they’re gone.” His voice broke again. “Cazzo... but when I look at you, it’s like she’s still here. I see her in you. Every time.”

You cupped his face, wiping the tears. “She left us both a piece of herself. She’d hate to see you like this.”

His arms tightened around you, forehead pressed to your chest, voice trembling. “Then I don’t want another daughter. I can’t go through this again. Not if she looks like you. I’d die if I lost you too.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, whispering, “So what... you want a son instead?”

He gave a broken laugh, eyes still wet, breath heavy.

“Maybe. But not now. Right now... sei tutto ciò che ho. You’re all I have left. And I swear on everything—non ti lascerò mai andare.”