93. Being an Amato.

Elena.

I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was off between Deangelo and me. Whenever he was around, there was a palpable tension in the air. His responses to my questions had become short and distant, and he avoided making eye contact with me. It felt as if a barrier had been erected between us, and I couldn't help but blame myself for it.

I tried to reason with myself that perhaps it was for the best. Our relationship had always been a complicated one, with Deangelo being a Ferrari and me being an Amato. It was a love that was never going to work, that is never meant to work even, and we constantly had to hide our feelings from the pack. If he even got to know about who I really was, it was going to go down sea.

But despite all of that, I couldn't help the way I felt about him. And now, with him avoiding me, I could not help but wonder if our love was worth it in the end. Was it all just a fleeting moment of happiness that was bound to end in heartbreak?

I tried to talk to him, to explain my side of things, but he brushed me off with curt responses. It seemed like he didn't even want to hear me out. It hurt, but I couldn't entirely blame him. Our situation was confusing and challenging for both of us. He was trying his best to move forward, to leave behind the past that haunted him. Truthfully, I couldn't fault him for anything because, in reality, I was the one deceiving him.

I tried to occupy my mind with other matters, but the alpha remained a constant presence in my thoughts. I yearned for his embrace, for his sweet whispers in my ear. However, it felt like he was slipping away from me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't grasp onto him tightly enough.

As the days passed, the tension between us only intensified. I could sense his simmering anger, waiting to erupt at any moment. Yet, a glimmer of hope persisted within me, hoping that we could find a way to mend what was broken. I longed for us to overcome the obstacles standing in our path and find a way to be together.

I could not just help but feel a twinge of sadness in my chest. I knew that I was too damaged, too broken to be in any kind of relationship with someone like him.

I remind myself that I am Elena Amato, and that meant something. Him being a Ferrari and me, an Amato means that we could never be together. It was just not possible. I tried to push these thoughts out of my head, but they kept creeping back in.

Deangelo had also been giving me odd jobs lately, things that were not even part of my job description. I knew it was just an excuse to keep me away from him. I tried to stay away from areas of the house where I knew he might be too. It was not that I was afraid of him, but I just could not bear the thought of being around him and feeling this way.

I had even started refusing to eat dinner with them. I did not want to be around him, or anyone really. It was just easier to be alone with my thoughts. Maybe if I kept my distance, things will go back to the way they were before. But deep down, I know that was just not true.

I could feel the weight of my past weighing down on me, like a heavy blanket suffocating me. I did not know if I would ever be able to escape it. Maybe I was just destined to be alone, forever haunted by the memories of what could have been.

As Mrs. Cali entered my room with a tray of warm soup, I could see the concern etched on her face. I know that my recent behavior must have raised some suspicion, but I could not bring myself to confide in anyone, especially since Camila had not been around for some weeks now either.

Mrs. Cali set the tray down on my bedside table, fluffing the pillows behind me as I sat up.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about, Elena?" She asked, her kind eyes studying me closely.

I shook my head, trying to muster a smile. "I'm just feeling a little sick, Mrs. Cali. Thank you for taking care of me."

She nodded, but I could tell she did not quite believe me. And why should she? I'd been avoiding everyone, even the kids, for days now. But I could not bring myself to explain the reason for my behavior. It was too personal, too painful to share with anyone.

As the days went by, Mrs. Cali’s concern only grew. She insisted that I took bed rest, even though I was perfectly healthy. She brought me soup, tea, and blankets, fussing over me like a mother hen. I did not have the heart to tell her that I did not need all this attention, but I appreciated her efforts nonetheless.

I spent most of my days after taking care of the kids lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of my thoughts. Why was I so drawn to the alpha, even though I knew we could possibly never be together? Why did I feel so damaged, so broken, when I knew I should be grateful for all that I have?

But no matter how hard I tried to push these thoughts away, they kept creeping back into my mind. And Mrs. Cali’s constant attention only made me feel more guilty. I was not really sick, and yet I was making her worry and fuss over me like a child.

I knew I needed to snap out of this funk, to start behaving like a responsible adult again. But it was honestly easier said than done. I was stuck in a rut, and I could not seem to find my way out.

So I continued to lie in bed, pretending to be sick, even though I know that I was only making things worse for myself. But I could not help it. It felt like the only way to protect myself from the pain and confusion that was swirling inside me.

As I laid in bed, I couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching me. It was a strange sensation, one that made my skin crawl. I turned to my side and saw Sofia's figure in the dim light of my lamp, standing at the foot of my bed.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Sofia had been acting strange since she came back, but she was playing the role of a concerned friend perfectly. She visited me often, bringing me food and magazines to read. She even offered to stay the night with me a few times, but I always declined. I didn't trust her, not after what she did to me before.

As Sofia left my room, I saw a shadowy figure pass by my door. It was Deangelo. My heart skipped a beat. Did he want to talk to me? Did he want to make things right? But he didn't stop, and the coldness between us continued.

I felt Sofia’s warm hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. She looked at me with concern etched on her face. “Are you feeling better, Elena? Do you need anything?” she asked, in a gentle voice.

I smiled weakly, grateful for her concern but also wary of it. There was something about the way she hovered around me that felt off, like she was overcompensating for something. But I pushed that thought to the back of my mind, not wanting to seem ungrateful. I watched her retreating figure, wondering why she was so interested in my well-being all of a sudden.

The next night, it happened again. I was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when I saw Deangelo's shadow outside my door. My heart beat faster, hope flaring up within me. But just as before, the shadow did not move, and eventually, it faded away.

Sofia came in soon after, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. She sat on my bed and started talking about how much she wanted us to be friends. I nodded and tried to be polite, but my mind was elsewhere. I wondered why Deangelo was avoiding me, why he did not want to talk things out.

As the days passed, Sofia's visits became more frequent, more invasive. She wanted to know everything about me, my likes, dislikes, my past, my future aspirations. I tried to be polite but my guard was up. There was something about her that feels fake, like she's trying too hard.

And then, there were the nights when the alpha’s shadow stopped at my door. I would hold my breath, hoping it was Deangelo, hoping he wanted to talk and maybe even reconcile. But the shadow that stopped at my door never stepped in.

I started to wonder if it was just my imagination, if I was reading too much into it because the coldness between us just continued.