THE BOY ACROSS THE ROAD

A Promise Across the Fence

EPISODE 4

The first rays of sunlight stretched across the Milan skyline, painting the morning sky with soft shades of gold and pale orange. A cool breeze drifted through the neighborhood, carrying the fresh scent of blooming roses and dew-covered grass. Birds perched on the branches of towering cypress trees, filling the peaceful morning with cheerful songs.

For most of the neighborhood, it was just another quiet summer's morning.

For Alessandro Moretti, it was something entirely different.

He had every reason to wake up before anyone else.

Ever since meeting Isabella, mornings had become his favorite part of the day. The thought of seeing the girl across the road was enough to pull him from sleep before the sun had fully risen.

Already dressed, Alessandro stood by the bedroom window with his hands resting lightly on the windowsill.

A gentle smile found its way onto his face as he looked across the road.

Just as he had hoped, Isabella was already outside.

She wandered through the De Luca garden with her older brother, Matteo, while Bruno bounded happily around them, chasing butterflies and darting through the flower beds. Isabella laughed as Bruno playfully ignored every command she gave him.

Alessandro couldn't hear her laughter through the glass, but somehow he could imagine every joyful sound.

Without realizing it, his smile grew wider.

Behind him, Marco slowly opened his eyes.

The room was unusually quiet.

He turned toward his brother's bed, only to find it neatly made.

Marco sat upright, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes.

"Wow," Marco said softly, surprised. "You're already awake?"

Receiving no answer, he climbed out of bed and quietly crossed the room.

Alessandro was so absorbed in the view beyond the window that he never noticed his brother approaching.

Marco stopped a few steps behind him.

Instead of speaking immediately, he simply watched.

For several moments, he stood there in silence, observing the expression on Alessandro's face.

It had been a long time since he'd seen his younger brother smile like that.

There was no sadness.

No disappointment.

Just the quiet excitement of a boy looking forward to seeing someone who had unknowingly brightened his world.

Marco smiled to himself.

He let the moment linger before finally breaking the silence.

"What are you doing?" Marco asked with a teasing grin.

Alessandro jumped slightly and turned around in surprise.

"Marco!" he exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest. "You scared me."

Marco chuckled.

"I've been standing here for almost two minutes."

"You have?"

"I have."

Marco folded his arms and tilted his head toward the window.

"So..." he said with a knowing smile. "Would you like to tell me why you've been staring across the road with the biggest smile I've seen in years?"

Alessandro glanced back at the De Luca estate before lowering his eyes, unable to hide the faint blush creeping across his face.

"I was just... looking outside."

Marco laughed.

"Sure you were."

He stepped beside his brother and looked out the window.

His eyes quickly found Isabella laughing as Bruno chased his own tail around the garden.

"So that's what this is about," Marco said.

Alessandro remained silent.

He didn't need to answer.

The smile on his face had already said everything.

The marble staircase felt cold beneath Alessandro’s feet as he descended alongside Marco. While Marco moved with a practiced, easy grace, Alessandro felt as though he were walking through a fog. His mind was a tangled mess of ivory silk and the haunting memory of Isabella’s expression from the night before.

As they stepped into the sun-drenched dining room, Marco’s voice cut through the morning stillness. "Good morning, everyone!" he announced, his tone bright and effortless.

A chorus of high-pitched greetings rose from the far end of the long mahogany table, where the younger half-siblings sat with sticky fingers and bright eyes. Beyond them, however, the table remained a fortress of silence. The older members of the family barely looked up from their plates, their nods stiff and obligatory.

Alessandro didn’t notice the chill in the room. He pulled out a heavy velvet-cushioned chair and sat down, his movements mechanical. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere past the centerpiece, seeing not the silver platters of fruit and pastries, but the curve of a familiar jawline. Without thinking, he reached for a piece of toast, spread a dollop of jam, and took a bite.

The sound of his chewing seemed to echo against the high ceilings. Slowly, the clatter of silverware ceased. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Alessandro swallowed, finally sensing the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes. He looked up, his brow furrowing as he saw his family frozen, watching him with varying degrees of judgment.

"What?" he asked, his voice sounding raspy even to his own ears. "Is something wrong?"

Sharon, sitting to his left, reached out a hand and placed it gently on his forearm. Her smile was kind, but tinged with a hint of reproach. "Alessandro," she whispered softly. "We pray before we eat. We were just waiting for you."

The realization hit him like a physical blow. Alessandro felt a hot flush of crimson creep up his neck and settle in his cheeks. He dropped the toast onto his plate as if it had burned him, his hands retreating to his lap.

"I... I’m sorry," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the tablecloth. "I wasn't thinking. Please, excuse me."

At the head of the table, Vittorio said nothing. He merely adjusted his cufflinks, his expression unreadable, though the tight set of his jaw spoke volumes. Across from Alessandro, Elena leaned back in her chair, her chin resting on her hand. She didn't look away; she watched the color drain and return to Alessandro’s face with a quiet, analytical intensity, as if she were memorizing his shame.

As the family finally bowed their heads and the rhythmic drone of grace began, Alessandro’s eyes drifted toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sprawling estate.

His heart gave a painful thud.

Outside, framed by the dark wood of the windowpane, were Isabella and Bruno. They were walking near the edge of the gardens, their figures silhouetted against the morning mist. Even from this distance, Alessandro could see the way Isabella moved—the effortless tilt of her head, the way she seemed to belong to the air and the earth in a way he never would.

The prayer continued around him, a low murmur of tradition and duty, but Alessandro didn’t hear a word of it. His breakfast sat forgotten, his hunger replaced by a hollow ache as he watched the only person who mattered disappear into the trees.

His stepmom, Elena, noticed that he was being absent-minded throughout breakfast. She noticed that he was staring at the window consistently. "Why are you staring at the window, are you expecting a bird?" Elena asked Alessandro.

Alessandro looked back at the table, shocked, he dropped his spoon. Everyone at the table burst into laughter except his brother.

Alessandro felt emberrased.

Vittorio left the table soon, and Alessandro left the table feeling like a frog in a fishnet among fishes.