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We just don't know where he is.
Or if there's something - or someone - that's keeping him from coming back, and it's all of these things that we don't know that threaten to kill us from within.
We all feel in our hearts he's alive, but everything else is a terrifying blank.
(Where are you, Giancarlo?)
My eyes are starting to sting so, so bad.
(Where are you?)
But just when I thought I'd end up breaking down—-
That's when I feel Lorenzo's hand squeezing mine.
(God, oh God.)
And it reminds me, oh, how it reminds me of all the other times my oldest brother did the same thing as well, every time he needed to remind me without words—-
You have me, Gaz. So don't be afraid. I'm here for you.
Only this time, it feels as if Giancarlo has sent Lorenzo in his stead.
Journal Entry
They shouldn't have anything in common.
Or at least that was how it seemed at first glance.
But the more time I spend with him, the more I realize...
The world couldn't be more wrong about him.
LORENZO WALKED OUT of the mausoleum, and she followed his lead without a single murmur of protest. It was almost unnerving, the way she was so quietly composed. All the rumors about the youngest Marchetti clearly couldn't be more wrong.
And yet...
He knew he had not imagined what he had seen earlier.
A flash of pain in her eyes right after she had said 'hello'.
A split-second glimpse of what she was really thinking.
That was all the time he had to see the truth, but it had been enough.
He had known right away that her heart was in agony, and he alone could keep it breaking.
He had seen she needed him, and instead of calculating his every move like he always did—-
Hello, wife.
He had done - said - something impulsive.
Dammit.
Silence - and not words - had always been his weapon of choice.
But the moment he saw she needed him—-
