Echoes of a Cold Welcome

VANESSA

I watched Fabian push his tiramisu around the plate, the dessert barely touched. His earlier excitement had evaporated the moment Roman walked out the door.

"He didn't even say goodbye," Fabian said quietly, setting down his fork with a sigh that seemed too heavy for his small shoulders.

My heart ached watching him try to process another disappointment. "I know, sweetie. I'm sorry."

"Is the baby really sick?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern but also suspicion beyond his years. Fabian had always been perceptive.

I chose my words carefully. "I don't know. But your father wouldn't have left if he didn't think it was important."

"He always leaves," Fabian muttered, slumping back in his chair.

Before I could respond, a warm hand settled on my shoulder. I looked up to see Nonna Sofia, the restaurant owner, standing beside our table. Her weathered face crinkled with kindness.