Niccolo
The cellphone I acquired rang. I jump, and answer it, waiting.
“I miss you, so much.”
My heart pounds. My chest caves. “How the hell—”
“It doesn't matter. I want you to come home, Niccó. I need you to come home.”
I close my eyes, savouring the sound of her breathing.
“I can't. Not yet. Not...not for a while.” I whisper.
“Niccoló, please. I can't handle this. I need you here. Please...” I can taste the tears on her face. They sting.
I bite my lip, closing my eyes.
“I can't. Manon, I know it's hard. And I miss you more than anything but...this has to happen for now. And you can't just...call me, pulcino—”
“Niccoló, I can't be without you. I can't handle this, do you hear me? I can't!”
“You can. You can do anything, Manon. I have to go—”
“Niccoló, I'm pregnant.”
The worl
