With shaking fingers, I stare at the folded paper in my hand. The envelope discarded, now lying on the bed with his neat scroll on the front. I take an eternity to run my fingers across the neat lettering, pain shooting through me from every angle. I inhale deeply, steadying my nerves, unfolding the thick cream paper, and biting my lip. I drag courage from somewhere, telling myself I should dive in and do it.

Emma,

I’m sorry, Bambina, so extremely sorry. I don’t even know ...