Bell didn't turn around, but she said it — steady, quiet:
"Then say it."
Alessandro was silent for a beat. Then another.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than before — not cold, not angry… but tired. Tired of holding it in.
"It started before prom," he said. "Back when you kept asking me what was wrong… and I kept lying. Telling you it was nothing."
Her jaw tensed, but she stayed quiet.
"I was being pulled in two directions, Bell. You remember how quiet I was that spring. How I tried to stay close — to be present — even when I looked like I was somewhere else. I was somewhere else. I was in a war with my grandfather."
That made her glance over her shoulder, just slightly.
He continued.
"He was the only one in my family who didn't approve of us. Not because of you. Because he didn't believe in love. He believed in legacy. Bloodlines. Control. He wanted me to marry some distant cousin of a business ally in Milan eventually — someone I could 'build the future with.' Someone I didn't give a single damn about."
He let out a breath that was almost a bitter laugh.
"I told him no. For years, I told him no. But he's the patriarch, Bell. He makes the rules. And that year, right before prom… he told me his decision was final. He said after graduation, I was going back to Italy — and that I wasn't to see you again."
Bell slowly turned to face him now, her expression unreadable — her arms crossed tightly.
"So that's why you were so—"
"Desperate," he finished for her. "Yeah. At prom, I didn't want to waste time. I needed you. I needed to be with you, feel you, because I knew what was coming. I just hadn't figured out how to tell you."
He looked toward the oak tree again. His voice cracked a little at the edges.
"And at graduation, I let myself pretend — just for a little while — that maybe it wouldn't happen. That I could stay. That maybe if I ignored it, he'd change his mind. You were so happy… and I wanted to protect that. But the truth was, I was already losing the fight."
He swallowed hard.
"So I started pulling back. It wasn't because I stopped caring. It was because I was trying to let you go. And I was doing a damn awful job at it."
Bell stood now, arms still crossed, her brows tight. But she didn't interrupt.
"I lied to you. That day under the tree — I said I didn't want you anymore. That you'd be a distraction. But I didn't mean a single word. I thought if I could hurt you, if I could make you angry, then maybe it would be easier for you to move on. I thought leaving without telling you… that it would spare us both."
He ran a hand over his face.
"But then you came running out. You called my name. And I… I almost turned around, Bell. I swear to God, I was this close to saying fuck it all and staying. But if I had seen your face — if I had seen you crying — I would've never left."
His voice broke, just slightly.
"And he knew that. He was watching. That's why he loaded the car himself. Why he barked at me to get in. Because he saw what I was about to do. And he made threats. To you. To my parents. To everything."
Finally, Bell whispered, her voice trembling, "So you just left."
Alessandro met her eyes.
"I thought I was protecting you. But I was just being a coward."
Silence hung between them now, raw and heavy, like the last note of a sad song.
She stared at him.
Everything about him looked the same and completely different — the jaw she used to kiss when he laughed, the eyes that once crinkled at the corners when he teased her, now dulled by shadows and regret. But the voice, the words — those broke something open in her.
Her arms slowly uncrossed.
"I waited for you," she said softly.
Alessandro's jaw tensed.
"That night. When I saw them loading the car. When I ran outside calling your name and you didn't turn around…"
Her voice cracked, but she steadied it.
"I stood under that oak tree until the sun went down. I thought maybe you'd come back. That this was all a mistake. That you couldn't just leave me like that."
He stepped forward instinctively, but she raised a hand. Not yet.
Bell didn't realize her breathing had quickened until she heard the way her voice cracked when she spoke again.
"The night you left…" she began, then faltered. "I didn't cry. Not right away."
Her eyes welled, but she blinked quickly, keeping her focus just past his shoulder. Not at him. If she looked at him now, she might not make it through.
"I felt numb. Like my heart had been ripped out but my body hadn't caught up yet. I stayed in my room, barely spoke to anyone. I kept thinking maybe you'd show up. That maybe it was some cruel mistake. That you'd at least say goodbye."
Alessandro didn't move. She went on.
"But you didn't. And two days passed, and I started to come undone. I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating. I kept staring at my phone, checking for messages, refreshing your socials. Nothing."
She let out a breath like it hurt to release it.
"My friends came over one night. They said they were having a girls' night and that they weren't taking no for an answer. They pulled me out of bed, did my makeup, made me smile even if it felt like it cracked my face."
Her gaze dropped to her hands.
"We went to this fancy hotel. There was a spa. A pool. Someone said something about not being able to swim because of their period… and that's when it hit me. I hadn't gotten mine either."
She swallowed, voice trembling.
"I went home that night and stared at the ceiling until morning. I kept telling myself it was stress. That the heartbreak had thrown me off. But something in my gut said otherwise."
A long pause.
"I took the test in silence. Just me. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just stared at that little line like it couldn't possibly be real."
She lifted her eyes to his now, slowly, with the weight of the truth behind them.
"And I called you, Alessandro. I called you again and again. I texted. I DM'd you on every account you had. I tried for weeks."
Her lips trembled as she said the next part.
"And then… I got through. Once. Someone answered. An older man. His voice was sharp. I told him who I was, and he said…"
She shut her eyes for a second.
"He said you wanted nothing to do with me. Or with anything I might be trying to bring into your life. That if I had any decency left, I wouldn't call again."
Her voice cracked completely now.
"I believed him. Because what else was I supposed to think? You were gone. You never said goodbye. I thought you wanted it that way."
She looked at him with eyes full of heartbreak and disbelief.
"And I know now that it wasn't you. That it was your grandfather. But Alessandro… it still hurt. It still hurts."
Silence fell over the garden again. Her tears slid down quietly now, without sobs, just silent.
Alessandro stood there, silent. Still.
It was as if her words had peeled open his chest and shoved the weight of seven years straight into his ribcage.
"Bastardo," he muttered—soft, low, aimed at no one but the ghost of the man who had answered her call. His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"He told me it was nothing. He told me the phone had been disposed of… that anything left behind was irrelevant. And I—"
He cut himself off, the words burning in his throat.
"I trusted him."
His voice sounded hollow. Distant. Like he was speaking to himself as much as to her.
"You were trying to reach me and I was just… living like nothing had happened. I didn't even know."
He looked at her now. Really looked. And what he saw crushed him: the pain etched into her expression, the years of holding herself together, the weariness in her eyes that no amount of makeup or strength could hide.
"You were eighteen," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "And you went through all of that by yourself. Because of me."
He took a step forward, his voice low, aching.
"I should've been there. For you. For him. I should've been fighting harder. I should've known."
Another beat.
"But instead I left you. Without a word. And you were pregnant."
The truth of it hit him again, like a punch in the chest.
"You were pregnant."
He turned away for a second, running a hand over his mouth like he could rub the guilt off his skin. He didn't cry—he was too angry. Too gutted.
"He took everything from me. Time I'll never get back. Time with you. Time with my son."
His voice broke on the last word.
He looked back at her now, all armor gone.
"I didn't just fail you, Bell. I failed him. And I don't know how to fix that."
And there it was.
The boy she had loved. The man he had become. Both of them standing in front of her, stripped bare.