Metà (COMPLETED)

22. Under One Condition

*TRIGGER WARNING*

Marco POV

I have a daughter.

I pulled up my silk pajama pants and unlocked the bathroom door. I barely noticed Rosalie watching me as I put our decorative pillows on the bench at the end of the bed.

"I'm leaving for Spain tomorrow morning— well today technically," she added, looking at the clock that read 1:00 am.

How was I supposed to get back all those years I missed with... Sofi?

I couldn't help the smile spreading on my face as I thought about our conversation. Her eyes were surrounded by long dark lashes, like her mother, and her cheeks had a tint every time I complimented her— just like her mother.

My mind would not let me rest and took over all my senses, including my hearing.

"Marco ti sto parlando," Rosalie shouted. I turned and sat on the edge of the bed, a smile still on my face. (T: Marco I'm talking to you)

"What," she asked. I pulled her to me and she looked down at my eyes.

"Ho una figlia," I whispered. (T: I have a daughter)

I felt her stiffen against me and she pulled away.

"Congratulations," she said and I barely caught it, it was so quiet.

"Marco I need to you to believe me. I swear on my own mothers grave I had nothing to do with those letters," she told me after taking a seat next to me on the bed.

I wanted to believe her. But with Rosalie you could never be sure and I wouldn't put it past her. Regardless, I was on too much of a high to spark another fight.

"I know," was all I said. My smile started to falter as I remembered what Zhara had said.

Twins.

My body sunk and I fell back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Rosalie shifted beside me and hesitantly laid her hand on my abs, testing the waters before laying her head on my chest.

I didn't stop her, too overcome by my thoughts. I didn't know how I felt. And it was scary. I wasn't sad, I wasn't hurt, I felt... nothing.

I mean yes it was disheartening hearing about the death of your child but...

How do you mourn the loss of a child you never knew you had?

I suddenly felt cold and tapped Rosalie.

"Si," she asked, lifting her head to look at me. Her piercing green eyes engulfed with admiration peered at me.

"I need a drink," I said, moving her out the way.

"Cosa c'è che non va?" (T: what's wrong)

"Niente," I replied. (T: nothing)

I poured myself a drop of whiskey and sipped. My mouth tingled for more so I poured another.