I winced. The sound that came out of me was small and involuntary, the kind of sound you make when your body betrays a pain you were trying to hide.
Silvana was at my side in an instant. Quick. Concerned. The picture of compassion. She knelt beside me and reached for my arm, her voice all worry and warmth. "Oh, Grazia, are you alright? Simone, look what you've done—"
But as she leaned close, her face turned toward mine and away from his line of sight, she smiled. A small, private, mocking smile. The kind that said I know exactly what just happened to you, and I know you can't say a word about it.
I pushed her away. My hands moved before my mind did, a visceral, physical rejection that came from somewhere deeper than thought. Disgust. Pure, clean disgust, the first honest thing I'd felt all day.
I tried to lean against the wall, to pull myself up, to get my legs underneath me. But Silvana flopped down beside me on the floor, her hand flying to her belly, her face contorting into a mask of pain.
"Oh! Oh, my stomach—"