189
Emilia’s POV
“Mommy!”
Francesca’s squeal of joy filled the entire hallway the moment I stepped inside the house. Before I could even process the sound of her little feet racing across the floor, she launched herself into my arms, nearly knocking me off balance. Her small arms wrapped tightly around my neck, and for a moment, I forgot everything-the fear, the confusion, the chaos of the past few days. All that mattered was the warmth of her embrace and the way her tiny voice called my name like it was the most important word in the world.
“You’re back! You’re back!” she chanted, her excitement bubbling over as I hugged her close.
“I’m back,” I murmured, holding her as tightly as I dared. My voice cracked under the weight of the emotion swelling in my chest.
Francesca leaned back just enough to look at me, her wide brown eyes scanning my face like she needed to confirm I was real. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, her lip trembling.
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” I brushed her hair away from her face, letting the strands slip through my fingers like silk.
She suddenly frowned, her tiny hand reaching out to touch the faint bruise on my cheek. “What happened? Did you get hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m okay now.”
Her frown deepened, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she rested her head against my shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to breathe.
“I told Daddy you’d come back,” Francesca said softly. “He said he was looking for you, but I knew you’d find your way home.”
I kissed the top of her head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?”
She nodded emphatically, a small smile breaking through her seriousness. “Daddy says I’m the smartest.”
“Of course, he does.”
Francesca clung to me as I carried her to the living room, where a few of Alaric’s men hovered in the background, their eyes flickering between me and the doorway as though they expected trouble to burst through it any second. Alaric was somewhere upstairs, probably dealing with whatever crisis my disappearance had caused, but for now, I was content to let Francesca be my focus.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked her, motioning to the couch.
“No, I just want to stay here,” she said, tightening her grip on my neck. “I thought maybe… maybe you wouldn’t come back.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My arms instinctively wrapped around her smaller frame, holding her as if I could shield her from every bad thing in the world. “Oh, Francesca, I’m so sorry I made you worry. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
She nodded against my shoulder, her trust in me unwavering.
“Do you want to talk in your room?” I asked, my voice gentle.
Her face lit up, and she scrambled out of my arms to grab my hand, tugging me toward the stairs. “Come on! I made you something while you were gone.”
Curiosity tugged at me as I followed her upstairs. Once inside her room, she dashed to her little desk, rifling through papers until she found what she was looking for. With a triumphant smile, she turned and handed me a drawing.
It was simple, the kind of artwork only a three-year-old could produce, but the bright colors and bold lines filled me with a warmth I couldn’t explain. It was a picture of the two of us holding hands, surrounded by what I assumed were flowers. Above our heads, she’d drawn a big yellow sun.
“I made this so I wouldn’t forget you,” she said, her voice shy.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I crouched down to her level, holding the drawing like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Francesca. It’s beautiful. I’ll keep it forever.”
Her smile was radiant, and she threw her arms around my neck again, squeezing tightly.
“Francesca,” I murmured, my voice soft. “Can we talk for a little bit? Just us?”
She pulled back, tilting her head in curiosity. “About what?”
“About anything. I just… I missed talking to you.”
She grinned, plopping down on the edge of her bed and patting the spot next to her. I sat beside her, leaning against the soft pillows as she babbled about her day-the new doll Alaric had bought her, the funny thing the guards dog had done, and how she’d convinced the one of the chefs to let her taste-test cookies.
It was ordinary, simple, and exactly what I needed.
After a while, her chatter slowed, and she looked at me with a seriousness that seemed far too grown-up for her age. “Daddy was really worried about you. He didn’t sleep. He said he’d find you no matter what.”
My chest ached at her words. “He’s a good man, isn’t he?”
She nodded solemnly. “He loves you.”
Her bluntness took me by surprise, and I could only manage a faint smile. “How do you know that?”
“Because he talks about you all the time,” she said matter-of-factly. “And he always looks at your picture when he thinks I’m not looking.”
I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
We sat in silence for a moment, her little hand resting on mine.
“Francesca,” I began, my voice hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”
“Okay,” she said, her expression curious.
“How do you stay so brave?”
She thought about it for a moment, her tiny brow furrowed in concentration. “I just think about the people I love,” she said finally. “Like you and Daddy. When I feel scared, I think about how much I love you, and then I don’t feel so scared anymore.”
Her simple wisdom brought tears to my eyes, and I pulled her into another hug, holding her close. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
She giggled, her arms wrapped tightly around me.