CHAPTER 243
KATYA POV
Nonna's room smelled like chamomile and lavender like it always had.
The curtains were half drawn, the late afternoon light slipping in softly. Everything in here moved at a slower pace—time included.
The armchair by the window, the crocheted throw folded just so, the little porcelain dish on the bedside table that held nothing important and yet was never empty.
Safe things. Familiar things. I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands folded in my lap because I didn't know what else to do with them.
They wouldn't stop trembling. "Drink," Nonna said gently, pressing a warm cup into my fingers before I could protest.
Her voice was steady. It always was. Even when the world outside this room cracked open, Nonna spoke like nothing sharp was allowed to pass her lips.
I nodded and took the cup. The ceramic was warm enough to sting slightly. I welcomed it. Pain that made sense was easier to hold onto.
