The Charm of ItalianThe enormous house, I correct, a visible mansion that evokes another era, instantly makes you fall in love. I can't stop boasting in my mind that façade that preserves the classic tone, it takes me back to yesteryear, among the most notable materials is stone. A fountain adorns the front. Silvain parks the car next to a red Ferrari. He unlocks the door and I can get out, I wait on the cobblestone. He approaches me with a hand out, I roll my eyes and reject him.He makes a dismissive gesture before heading towards the entrance, I follow behind him, wanting to run away from all that. Once I reach him he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, I snort.—Erase that bitterness, Viscardi. I don't want Rosellini to get a bad impression of my assistant. —he orders, gritting his teeth in disgust.We are greeted by a middle-aged woman, addressing us both in a hospitable but formal manner above all.—Benvenuto, il Signore ti sta già aspettando, please come in. (Welcome, th
—No, it's not that, it's that I fill up quickly, in reality everything is delicious.—You barely ate, love. —he intercedes, caressing my cheek, him pretending affection and I controlling the hatred in my eyes.—Don't worry so much, stop being so protective. —I smile at him."You know I worry a lot about you, darling," he declares, putting on this whole show, trying to leave an excellent image of a man who has settled down, who loves a woman, to look good to the Italian. You feel good?—Yes, I'm perfect. —I move my hand away from its touch on the table.Later they delve into business, talk about various lands, constructions and projects. I try to bring the thread to the conversation, but I get lost in the pensive tide, the unchecked flood that is already snatching away my center. The reasons why Silvain has been acting so strange tonight is linked to his personal interest, and I dare to swear that there was jealousy at the beginning, annoyance at seeing that Rosellini took out the manl
His DarknessI have the feeling that I will spend the day alone in the room. I feel it; When I woke up, Silvain was gone. He hasn't returned yet and it's almost noon, unlike yesterday I have the freedom to go out, but I'm not sure about walking around Rome without company. However, I get ready, put on my clothes and pick up the phone before going through the eternal city and breathing in that Roman air.The streets are full of pedestrians; normal influx in a country so frequented by tourists from all over the world. The beauty of the capital surrounds me on the walk, I manage to disconnect from reality, from that toxic loop of events that awaken states of anger and sadness.I take some photos of the tour and send them to Mila. I smile when I read her response, she claims that they are too beautiful and admits to wanting to be with me, to which I respond with a heart emoji. Then come the questions.Mila: Are you with Silvain?Me: No, I went out alone.Mila: Where is that idiot?Me: It'
Heartbreak + Disillusionment: Emotional chaos—You happen to be a loser. You are defeated, you do not allow yourself to see life through other eyes. I have no idea what happened in your life, but what marked you should not defeat you. Not everything is lost...He denies, one of those sneaky smiles, in disagreement.—You said them. You have no idea about anything, I would appreciate it if you would stop with your stupid talk.—I say nothing absurd, Silvain. You're afraid of failing, of not being enough, that's what you're afraid of, of screwing up, which you do left and right. Get it into your head that you are just another mortal, full of imperfections like everyone else; You make an effort to pretend something, and your mistakes become more noticeable. Furthermore, you are distrustful, you do not allow anyone to know about your life. How much I dig into your life, that doesn't matter, I don't get anything, only tremendous unknowns. The truth is, I don't know how you've kept Gaspard i
—If it's not necessary, no thanks, I prefer to stay here. —I decline, surprised by the invitation. Although I should have asked where I was going, just to satisfy my curiosity.—Stay, as you wish. —He pretends that the rejection doesn't affect him in the least.I go to the other side of the suite, giving him privacy. I don't want him to think that I'm a freeloader, my attention already feeds his ego and, if I notice his athletic body, my head gets messy. For the sake of my idiotic emotional stability, I walk away.He dresses casually and that image hits me hard. Both hemispheres freeze, it is so perfect that it seems dreamlike, something so unreal that it can only be seen in dreams. The fact that he is made of flesh and blood takes the wind out of me, in and of itself he manages my emotions at will without knowing it, I am already delirious in silence. Suddenly I close my mouth, magnificence already emerges on his lips. Here where I put myself again would be to the point of bordering
Your HeartbeatsDays after...Gaspard is here, devouring a cookie, from the second batch that Mila has prepared. I admire that they are still close, as friends, after the adventure they had. I watch them and notice the twinkle in my friend's eyes, I dare say that around Lebrun she looks more lively, they fit together; Gerrit is a good person, but I must confess that he is almost always in the clouds, these last few days they have not gone out often, although Jones has been fully immersed in some things about practicing her profession.—Won't you eat one? —It seems strange to him that he hasn't swallowed yet.—It's just that I'm full."You're losing it," the Frenchman moans, putting the entire cookie into his mouth.And, he plays around, touching the tip of my nose. I smile while shaking my head; Lebrun has been with Mila there for me, when I find myself on the run from life and a horde of dark ideas crack my vision and my heart sinks, then reminding me that it is worth living, they cl
Draper tells me to lie down on the stretcher, coming with Gaspard makes me nervous. The doctor knows that he is not the father of my baby, since he introduced himself and the other time I mentioned Silvain's name. It has become clear to him that he is nothing more than a friend."Okay, you can sit here, Gaspard." —he says, bringing him a chair near the stretcher.He thanks me and gives me a reassuring smile. By then he takes my hand and gently shakes it in his. The gesture has a positive impact, lightening the nervous torrent that eagerly moves under the layers of my skin."Thank you..." I whisper.—Let's start, lift your blouse.I do what he asks, exposing my abdomen, in his view he places that cold gel on the area and runs a device over it. At the same time we stare at the screen. I don't have eyes for anything else. It is exciting on an incomprehensible level, making the moment ideal and special. I'm grateful to be living it with someone else, although Silvain should be occupying t
I won't do it.In a flash I find myself reading the lines, its handwriting, that letter inclined to the right catches me in reading.I grew up believing for a long time that the people I loved gave me a little bit of the same way, love. It is ridiculous, stupidly pathetic to eat the story, the fantasy of being loved, especially when you receive that affection, and you don't know that it is only based on hypocrisy.They said that if I had a little gratitude for them I would do my part to be better, of course they substituted the word "perfection", but I was always clear, I wanted it to be perfect, especially when Nickolas had died, leaving me that heavy burden, to be like him, who always had accomplished goals in the palm of his hand. I, on the other hand, was so withdrawn so many times, absent from class and skipping over issues that I couldn't achieve, far from my goals, but an obligation to be someone in this world.For a moment I tried, I gave up, then the pressure took its place a