The morning after his return didn’t bring the sun. Instead, a thick, Mediterranean fog rolled in from the coast, swallowing the estate in a grey, damp shroud. It felt appropriate. The air inside the apartment was just as heavy, thick with the things we weren't saying and the exhausted peace that follows a storm.

Alessandro was still asleep, his large frame dominating the bed, his face finally smoothed of the lines of war. I stood at the foot of the bed for a long time, watching him. He ...