[Part 1] The Truth Comes Out: A Broken Heart

Posted on Tue Jul 22nd, 2025 @ 8:42pm by Lieutenant Adrianna Baciami

1,650 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Vinyl and Void
Timeline: Post Honeymoon

“The wedding had passed and loved-ones had returned to the familial routine. The Baciami house had returned to just the heads of the Baciami household, creating the heartbreaking nostalgia of empty nest syndrome. Only workers remained consistently on the vineyard, working hard as usual. Of course, the non Starfleet Baciami's remained, but within the offices in the heart of Roma.”

“You must understand that the routine of retirees is different. Long gone were the days of breakfast at 6am, to start work by 8. Have hands calloused by midday and feeling the need for a cold glass of home pressed lemonade by the painstaking heat of the midday sun.”

“But retirement and an empty nest meant that, like a phoenix from the ashes, the ability to fall in love all over again and learn about a partner all over again was possible.”

***

The rain had softened to a hush against the windows, a rhythm as familiar as breath in the old Baciami house. Dario stood at the end of the corridor, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, when he heard it– a faint shuffling, then the muted creak of floorboards.

He followed the sound into the front sitting room.
Tanina stood near the fireplace, one hand trailing the back of the old armchair, her brow furrowed in that way that had become all too familiar. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the room like a stranger might– dissecting it in silence, looking for a clue, for something to anchor herself to. But nothing seemed to settle in her gaze. Not the faded portrait of the children above the mantel. Not the lace curtains she’d once mended by hand.

Not even Dario.

“Tanina?” he said, careful not to startle her.

She blinked at him, “Where… where am I?”

Dario felt his chest tighten. Not again. “You’re at home,” he said softly. “Our home. The Baciami vineyard, Orte, amore mia.”

Her expression faltered, disbelief creeping in. “No. I… I was just–” she glanced toward the window, then to the familiar rug beneath her slippers, “this isn’t mine.”

“It is, amore. Look around. Take a breath,” he kept his voice steady, though his fingers curled slightly at his sides, “you hung those curtains. You hated them– said they looked too much like your mother’s, but you kept them because my mother liked them and you were determined to be liked by her.”

Tanina stared at the fabric, eyes narrowed, “I… did I? I did.”

He nodded, stepping slowly and cautiously closer, “you did.”

She touched the wall lightly, trailing her hand along the paintwork like it might spark something. There was a long silence, filled only by the ticking of the mantle clock. “I dreamt of a place like this once,” she whispered. “With children’s laughter. And grapevines outside the window. It smelled like bread and basil. The children– so many of them. Their parents had been blessed so much. The house was filled with laughter and joy– so full of life.”

Dario’s throat tightened before he managed, “That wasn’t a dream, Tanina. That was us. Years ago, but it was us. We have been so blessed in our lives.”

He watched as her shoulders stiffened, as the haze began to lift– just barely. Her eyes flicked once more around the room, settling, hesitating, slowly falling into place. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, voice cracking, “It’s happening more now, isn’t it?”

Dario didn’t answer that. Instead, he walked to her, took her hand gently in his. She let him, her fingers curling into his like muscle memory.
“It was just a moment,” he said, “They pass. But at least the faded memories you have are all positive– of the family we built, the legacy we continued.”

She nodded, though she looked unconvinced, “But I didn’t know our home. For a moment– I barely knew you.”

He kissed the back of her hand and held it there, “Then we start again, every time. I’ll be a stranger if I must. As long as I get to stay. We both get to fall in love over and over again.”

Tanina looked at him properly then, something sorrowful and grateful moving behind her eyes, “You always were stubborn.”

“Says you,” he said, forcing a small smile and stifling a gentle chuckle.

She didn’t respond, just leaned into him gently, as though tired from walking a long, invisible path. He held her, his chin resting on her hair, and let the room fall quiet again.

It wasn’t the first time she’d forgotten where she was.

And Dario feared, in the quietest corners of his heart, that it wouldn’t be the last– they were getting more frequent since diagnosis.

***

“The diagnosis came, and before anyone knew it, it had taken hold and was not slowing down, even with medication. But retirement plans remained: learn life again without a full nest and fall in love over and over again.”

“The decision to not tell the family had been made. Marriage vows of ‘for better, for worse; in sickness and in health’ were upheld. Everyone had their own lives– some just starting, some expanding into new territories. Above all, no-one deserved to have memories tainted by a lack of recognition. Tanina was determined to not have others worry for her, or to see her as anything less than the matriarch of the Baciami family.”

“The days became harder, with less days having lucid moments. But the memories that remained were only positive. Tanina was never scared– she merely got stuck in the past– falling in love so many times, reliving one of the best lives a woman could ask for. How many can say that they had the opportunity to fall in love with their partner more than once? It was the most fortunate and rare experience a person can have.”


***

The sun had just begun to slip below the horizon, casting the Baciami patio in soft amber and rose. Crickets chirped lazily from the olive trees, and the scent of basil and earth floated on the evening breeze. It was the sort of dusk that had always made the old house feel like a photograph– faded and lovely, suspended in time, radiating history.

Dario was setting down two empty coffee cups when he heard the screen door creak behind him. He turned, half expecting one of the nurses that they'd employed subtly to help Tanina, out of view of the family. But it was Tanina.

She stepped out barefoot onto the stone patio, her eyes alight with a mischief he hadn’t seen in years. She’d brushed her hair out, letting the silver and black strands fall loose down her back. She'd grown more grey in days of late. There was a flush to her cheeks, and something about the way she held herself made Dario pause in a moment of reflection, trying to figure out what was going through her mind– which memory she was reliving.

“Well?” she said, tilting her head, “Are you going to ask me to dance, or are you going to let this music go to waste?”

There was no music. Not really. Just the faint hum of summer insects and the breeze whispering through the trees.

But to her, there was. Her eyes closed and she swayed in time to whatever auditory memory was playing.

Dario’s throat tightened. She thought they were young again.

He didn’t correct her.

Oh, to be young again.

Instead, he smiled—truly smiled—and held out his hand like a boy at a wedding. “How could I say no to the most beautiful girl in all of Roma?”

Tanina laughed, light and soft, and took his hand without hesitation. “You’ve got a charm Dario, I’ll give you that. But I know you’ve got two left feet.”

“I’m sure that you will manage,” he said, guiding her gently into his arms, “you are forgiving.”

They began to sway slowly across the patio, the stones warm beneath their feet, the light fading into a golden hush around them. She hummed something familiar, something from long ago– a tune his mother used to play on the piano. He found himself humming along.

She looked up at him, eyes full of youth, full of wonder, “You know, Dario, I think I might just marry you one day.”

He faltered only slightly, just a breath, “You think so, hm? Even with my bad dancing?”

“Mmhm,” she grinned, “If you promise not to bore me. And if you plant lemon trees amongst the olive groves here, and provide me with a large family.”

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, “I promise, amore mia. Mostly boys, no doubt. But one girl– and she will be a copy of you.”

They danced like that for a while– slow, steady, her head on his chest, her body light in his arms. For a moment, the weight of age and illness vanished. She was his girl again, and he was the boy who had stolen her heart under the roman stars.

Eventually, her steps slowed. She looked up at him, the shine in her eyes dimming slightly, “Dario?”

“Yes, amore?”

Her brows drew in, uncertain, “I… I don’t remember coming here. Where are we?”

He held her tighter, pressing his lips to her temple.

“We’re home, living in a memory,” he whispered, “We’re home, my love.”

She didn’t answer, only nodded faintly, and rested her head back against him. And though her mind had wandered again, her body stayed close.

Dario kept dancing.

He knew that the end was coming– creeping in like dusk over the hills. But for now, she remembered loving him.

And he would dance with that memory for as long as he could.

 

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