Chapter Fifteen: VIDEO CALL
1020 Words
Eli
Two weeks.
That was how long Kira had been in Italy.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
Not that I was counting.
I absolutely was.
The estate had become unbearably quiet.
The first few days had been manageable.
After that, every room seemed larger.
Every hallway seemed emptier.
Every meal seemed shorter.
I had spent most of the evening buried beneath paperwork when my phone suddenly lit up.
Incoming Video Call: Kira
Immediately accepted.
The screen filled with movement.
And noise.
A lot of noise.
“DADDY!”
I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear.
“Kira.”
She grinned.
The child somehow looked even happier than when she’d left.
“Daddy, guess what?”
I already knew this was a trap.
“What?”
“I ate six cookies.”
I sighed.
“That’s not something to be proud of.”
“I ate seven.”
Wonderful.
The situation was apparently getting worse.
Behind her, several people moved through what looked like a crowded family gathering.
Voices overlapped.
Someone laughed.
Someone else shouted something in Italian.
The entire scene looked chaotic.
Kira seemed completely at home.
“How was your day?”
She immediately launched into a ten-minute explanation involving pastries, a cat, a fountain, and what may or may not have been an accidental food fight.
I wasn’t entirely sure.
Halfway through the story, I heard a familiar voice somewhere in the background.
Miss Kingsley.
Unlike Kira, I couldn’t understand a single word she was saying.
Her English always carried traces of uncertainty.
Little mistakes.
Occasional pauses.
But when she spoke Italian…
The difference was startling.
The words flowed effortlessly.
Fast.
Confident.
Natural.
Like a completely different person.
I heard laughter.
Then a male voice answered her.
Young.
Around her age.
The two continued talking.
Something about the exchange caught my attention.
Not because of what they were saying.
I couldn’t understand any of it.
Because of how comfortable she sounded.
Relaxed.
Happy.
For some reason, that stood out.
Kira continued talking.
“…and then Nonna said—”
“What was that?”
Kira blinked.
“What was what?”
“The person Miss Kingsley was speaking with.”
“Oh.”
Kira turned dramatically.
“NANNY!”
A muffled voice answered.
“NANNY!”
“Kira!”
“Daddy is asking questions!”
Several seconds passed.
Then Miss Kingsley appeared on screen.
She looked surprised.
And slightly embarrassed.
Interesting.
“Good evening, Mr. Winslie.”
“Miss Kingsley.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then:
“Who’s the man?”
The question left my mouth before I could analyze why I was asking it.
Miss Kingsley blinked.
“Oh.”
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
A genuine one.
For some reason that felt suspicious.
“That is Marco.”
The name meant absolutely nothing to me.
Apparently my face reflected that.
Because she quickly added,
“My childhood friend.”
I nodded once.
Reasonable explanation.
Perfectly reasonable.
Then why did I still feel oddly dissatisfied?
An excellent question.
One I chose not to examine.
“He’s helping my father prepare for a festival.”
As if summoned by magic, a young man suddenly appeared behind her.
Dark hair.
Friendly smile.
The type of person who smiled entirely too much.
“Nina!”
Miss Kingsley immediately turned.
“It is Xenia.”
“Nina.”
“Xenia.”
“Nina.”
She groaned.
The man laughed.
Then noticed the phone.
“Oh.”
His eyes widened.
He pointed.
“The scary father.”
I stared.
Miss Kingsley looked horrified.
“Marco!”
“What?”
“The phone!”
His face immediately changed.
Realization.
Regret.
Panic.
An impressive sequence.
Miss Kingsley covered her face.
I heard Kira laughing.
Very loudly.
Marco awkwardly waved at the camera.
“Hello.”
I stared.
He stared.
Then he disappeared from view at remarkable speed.
Smart man.
Kira looked delighted.
“Nanny’s face is red.”
“Baby.”
“It is.”
“Baby.”
“It is.”
Miss Kingsley looked moments away from surrendering her citizenship.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
The conversation eventually moved on.
Kira showed me drawings.
Introduced me to three different relatives.
Showed me a dog.
Then another dog.
Then apparently the same dog again.
Throughout it all, Miss Kingsley remained nearby.
Talking with family.
Laughing.
Moving naturally through a world that was entirely different from the one I knew.
Watching her felt oddly strange.
Not because she was different.
Because she wasn’t.
The kindness remained.
The cheerfulness remained.
The habit of accidentally dropping things remained.
Yet there was a confidence there that I rarely saw back home.
No hesitation.
No anxiety about grammar.
No worrying about saying the wrong thing.
Just certainty.
The realization lingered.
Eventually the call began winding down.
Kira yawned.
Then immediately denied being tired.
Predictable.
“Time for bed.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Kira.”
The argument ended instantly.
Another useful parenting victory.
She sighed dramatically.
“I miss you, Daddy.”
The words were quiet.
Honest.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
“I miss you too.”
A smile returned immediately.
Then she leaned closer to the screen.
“I’ll come home soon.”
Home.
The word settled somewhere deep inside me.
For a second, I glanced toward Miss Kingsley.
She was talking with her mother nearby.
Smiling.
Happy.
Home looked good on her.
Then I looked back at Kira.
“I’ll be waiting.”
The call ended a few minutes later.
The screen went dark.
Silence returned to the estate.
Yet somehow it felt different tonight.
Less empty.
Because I’d seen Kira smiling.
Heard her laughing.
Watched her being loved by an entire family.
And despite myself, I found my thoughts drifting briefly toward a white-haired Italian nanny speaking rapid-fire Italian with a confidence I’d never seen before.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I set the phone down and returned to my paperwork.
But for the first time all evening, I couldn’t seem to focus on a single word.
- Writer
