The door closed behind them. Tires rolled away down the driveway. And just like that, the house sank back into silence.
The same silence that had always lived here.
I turned to one of the maids. “You can stop preparing lunch. They’ve left.”
She nodded quickly.
I went upstairs slowly, each step heavier than the last, like my body didn’t belong to me anymore.
Halfway up, I heard voices drifting from the kitchen—low, careless, unfiltered.
“She didn’t even cry when they left.”
“Have you seen the urn in her room? That boy… Gabriel… he’s really gone.”
“Mr. Vincenzo only talks about Noel now. He even brings flowers for Lena. No visits, no prayers… nothing for the other child.”
“And even if he did, what would it change? That boy was always too soft… too fragile.”
“She used to be the lady of this house. Now she’s just… surviving.”
I didn’t stop walking.
I didn’t react.
I didn’t defend myself.
Maybe they were right.
I reached my room and shut the door behind me.
My phone rang.
Vincenzo.
Once. Twice.
I just stared at the screen until it stopped ringing on its own. No message followed. No explanation. Nothing.
The silence came back stronger than before.
Heavier. Familiar. Permanent.
**