The days passed in what seemed like a normal routine. Yet, I could feel an invisible weight hanging over us. My belly, now fully rounded at eight months of pregnancy, made me more aware of Alessandro's every move, every tension-laden glance. He spent more and more time handling urgent matters, and although he showered me with affection, the distant look in his eyes when he thought I wasn't watching betrayed an internal struggle.
That evening, over dinner, I couldn't help but notice that he was unusually quiet. His fork moved mechanically over his plate, but he barely ate a thing.
"Alessandro," I said softly, drawing his gaze to mine. "What's wrong?"
He slowly set his fork down, his expression closing off slightly. "Nothing that concerns you, amore mio. Eat."
But I didn't let it go. "If it's worrying you this much, then it does concern me. I don't want to be left in the dark, Alessandro."