Chapter 56. Hollow

When Margherita woke, her head felt heavy, her body sore all over, especially her knees—the dull ache pulsing with every breath. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the faint click of a needle pulling through fabric echoed softly.

Rosa sat in a chair by the bed, sewing by hand. The older woman’s expression softened as soon as she saw Margherita’s eyes open.

“Ah, finally,” she whispered, setting her work aside. “You scared us, ragazza mia.”

Margherita blinked once, slow and dazed. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked. She said nothing.

Rosa leaned closer, brushing the back of her hand across Margherita’s cheek. “Fever’s gone,” she said softly. “You’ll be alright now.”

But Margherita turned her head away, staring blankly at the far wall.

Rosa’s smile faltered. For a moment, she just looked at the girl—so pale, so still—and felt her heart twist.

“I’ll bring you some soup,” she said gently. “You need to eat something. Get your stren