"—must be so difficult?—"
The words cut through the fog.
I look up. A woman stands in front of me. Middle-aged. Expensive dress. Face arranged in an expression of sympathy that makes my stomach turn.
"I'm sorry?" My voice comes out flat.
"The adjustment." She gestures vaguely at the wheelchair. "It must be so difficult. But you're so brave, Bruno. So strong."
Brave. Strong.
The words are poison.
I'm not brave. I'm not strong. I'm a man in a chair who can't walk across a room. Who can't stand at his own wedding. Who can't?—
"Bruno handles everything with grace." Antonella's voice appears beside me. Warm. Steady. "I've never met anyone more resilient."
The woman blinks. "Oh. Yes. Of course."
Antonella's hand lands on my shoulder. Light. Barely there.
But I feel it. Feel the warmth of her palm through my jacket.
"If you'll excuse us," Antonella continues, "I promised to introduce Bruno to someone."
She doesn't wait for a response. Just walks and I follow her away from the woman.
We stop near the windows. Away from the crowd.
"Breathe," Antonella says quietly. Her voice is low enough that only I can hear. "Just breathe."
Antonella
Bruno's shoulders drop slightly. His grip on the armrests loosens.
"Thank you," he says. The words come out rough. Like they cost him something.
"You looked like you needed an exit."
He turns his head. Looks up at me. His dark eyes are unreadable, but something flickers in them. Something that might be gratitude.
"I was going to?—"
"Bruno!"
A woman's voice cuts through whatever he was about to say.
I turn.
She's walking toward us. Tall. Dark hair swept into a twist. Red dress that hugs her figure like it was sewn onto her body. Mid-thirties, maybe. Beautiful.
Her smile is wide. Too wide.
"I couldn't believe it when I heard." She stops in front of us, her eyes fixed on Bruno. "Married. You. After everything."
Bruno's jaw tightens. "Camilla."
Camilla. The name means nothing to me. But the way she's looking at him...