The man who had been hovering over me moments earlier didn’t spare me a glance as he hurried to her side, one arm instantly supporting her weight.
“What happened?” he asked, urgency threading his voice.
Antonella’s eyes flicked past him—to me—and she offered a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Just twisted my ankle. What a coincidence. You’re here too?”
Rocco hesitated for the briefest second, then turned toward me. The look on his face—controlled, composed, faintly guilty—was one I knew far too well. It always surfaced when Antonella did.
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “A friend’s kid sister had a fever. I brought her in.”
I felt nothing. No shock. No anger. Just a dull acceptance. To the outside world, I had always been that—someone else’s sister. A detail. A secret.
Antonella nodded politely. “You should take care of her. I’ll be fine. I can head over there myself.” She gestured toward another section of the clinic.
Rocco didn’t even hesitate. He bent down and lifted Antonella into his arms with effortless care. “I’ll carry you. Sofia, wait here.”