[Part 2] The Truth Comes Out: A Broken Heart

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

1,751 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Vinyl and Void
Timeline: Post Honeymoon

“The end came suddenly, taking her before even the strongest could have been ready. But her demise came as a blessing. For a woman that didn't age, her final week finally made her look like the age she was.”

“Most would have thought that a matriarch like her would have wanted to have been surrounded by family, yet Tanina had been very clear in her instructions: she didn't want to disturb and interrupt anyone's lives, but was adamant that she didn't want to die alone.”

“In her final moments, she was lucid enough to pass on a message of hope.”

***

The room was dim, cloaked in the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, rain tapped gently against the shutters as if reflecting the mood as the vineyard slept beneath the darkened sky. The scent of lavender lingered faintly in the air– a familiar comfort that clung to the pillows, to the blankets, to her skin.

Tanina hadn’t spoken in days.

She hadn’t opened her eyes properly in nearly as long.

Dario sat by her side as he had every day– barely leaving to sleep or eat– only upon the insistence of Tanina’s doctors. His hands were gnarled with age, resting on hers. He watched her chest rise in a shallow, halting rhythm.

The end was coming.

He could feel it in the stillness, in the way the house itself seemed too quiet, as though holding vigil. He thought she was gone already though, in all but body.

But then–

Her fingers twitched. Lightly, then again.

And her lips parted.

“Dario?” she rasped, voice dry, unsure.

He froze, looking up in shock, never thinking he'd hear her voice again– and certainly not his name from her lips.

His chair scraped back, and he was leaning forward, trembling, gripping her hand like a man that had been lost at sea. “Tanina,” he choked, “Amore mia. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Her eyes fluttered open– not wide, not strong– but enough. Enough to see him. Enough to recognise him and show it by softly and warmly smiling.

And in an instant, he saw her again. Her. The woman he had courted beneath Roman stars. The mother of his children. The fire and the laughter and the olive grove dreams. It was all there, just behind her gaze.

“Oh, Dario,” she whispered, her breath hitched by the effort of it, “You look so… old and tired, amore mio.”

A breathless laugh escaped him, soaked in tears, “I’ve been waiting for you to notice. It's what so many children and you have done to me.”

She smiled. Weakly. But truly.

“I thought I had lost you already,” he said, his voice cracking, “I thought I’d already said my goodbyes when you forgot me.”

“You are a man of little words, but right now you are talking too much,” she whispered.

And then, her fingers reached up– shaky and featherlight– brushing against the line of his jaw, “your beard’s grown in grey. You need to shave to hide your age.”

He kissed her palm, “Yours would too, if you could grow one.”

Her eyes misted, but not with confusion now. With memory. With love.

“I remember everything,” she said, barely breathing, “The lemons. The grappa. That first dance on the patio. The tattoos. The delays in our wedding, but only making it all the more sacred. The laughter in the kitchen. The babies crying their first cries. The way you looked at me on our actual wedding night, like I was the whole world.”

“You were,” Dario whispered, voice breaking, “You still are.”

She blinked, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“I’m not scared, Dario,” she told him softly, “I just… didn’t want to go without seeing your face one last time.”

“I’m here,” he promised, tears spilling now, silent and unstoppable, “I’m right here, Tanina. My heart. My life.”

She drew a shuddering breath. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly in his.

“I have had the most amazing life. You gave me everything I had ever wanted and more. I love you,” she said, the words strained, but firm, “I could never… forget you.”

And then her eyes fell shut.

Her hand grew still.

And the breath didn’t come again.

Dario stared, unmoving, for a long moment.

Then something inside him broke.

“No– no, no, amore, please–” He cradled her face, pressed his forehead to hers, sobbing like a man torn open, “Stay. Just one more moment. Please. Don’t go. Not yet.”

But there was only stillness.

Only the sound of his grief echoing through the old house, where love had once lived in every corner.

And in that room, lit by the soft golden lamp, Dario Baciami wept– for the girl he had loved, for the woman he had lost, and for the remaining future that would now be without her.

***

“I'm sorry that we never told you– that we hid away. Tanina, your mother, had been so clear on how she had wanted this to end. And I understood her point. She didn't want anyone hurt or frustrated at her when she didn't know reality or the present. Your mother didn't want your memories tainted by the end.”

“I know that it hurts. No-one got to say goodbye. No-one knew. It was selfish, and yet in her selfishness there was selflessness. I promise.”

“I could not have asked for a better mother for you, or a better wife and friend for me. I could not have asked for a better life. I got to fall in love so many times with the woman I was fated to. She gave me everything I could have ever asked for and more. She filled this home with love, laughter, memories and food– my gawd, the food.”

“So, I implore you: to love like your mother, and to live like her.”

***

The storm had passed sometime in the early morning. The air was still thick with the scent of rain and earth, and faint birdsong began to stir beyond the vineyard walls.

Inside the Baciami house, time had slowed.

The nurse arrived just after dawn, letting herself in through the back door like she always did– soft steps, respectful of the quiet. She had tended to Tanina in secret for weeks now, and had come to know the rhythms of the house, the patterns of its grief. But that morning, something was different. She felt it in her chest as she climbed the stairs, each one heavier than the last.

Her hand hesitated at the door knob for some reason. When she pushed the bedroom door open, the stillness struck her first.

Not silence– stillness. The kind that settles only after something final.

Tanina lay in bed, tucked beneath the blankets, her face calm and resting in eternal sleep. Her hands were folded neatly over her chest, her now silver hair brushed back. There was a peacefulness to her that the nurse had not seen in many, many weeks.

But it was Dario who made her breath catch.

He sat in the armchair beside the bed, just as he always had. One hand rested lightly atop Tanina’s. His chin had fallen slightly to his chest. He looked as though he had simply nodded off.

But the colour had gone from his cheeks. And his chest seemingly did not rise.

The nurse stepped forward slowly, calling his name once, softly, “Signor Baciami?”

No answer.

She reached for his wrist and found nothing. No pulse. No warmth.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she realised it had begun to fall.

He had gone.

Not in pain. Not in fear.

But gently, as though following her.

And in a way, he had. Just hours after Tanina had slipped from the world, Dario had joined her– as if his heart, so faithfully tethered to hers, had simply refused to keep beating without her.

They had been married for over fifty years.

He had waited for her to remember him.

She had waited to tell him she still loved him.

And when that final promise was spoken– when she whispered that she could never forget him– Dario’s soul had simply… let go.

Together, they had lived.

Together, they had loved.

And now, together, they passed on, leaving behind a legacy of love and hope.

The nurse stepped back into the doorway and paused for a long while, hand to her mouth, blinking back tears as the golden morning light crept into the room– two lovers bathed in dawn, still holding hands in death, their wedding ring tattoos faded with time and yet still very much prominent and full of promise and a signifier of a life well lived.

***

“I recorded this message for you when I realised that my marriage vows had been more than mere words. I thought I would get to speak to you all in person about this, but it appears that fate has decided that I am to stay with your mother even in death. I've chosen not to call the doctor. This is clearly my time.”

“This was not my intention, nor my choice. I wish I could help you all mourn your mother and yet instead, you have to deal with this. I'm sorry. My nine tallies have finally caught up with me– my ninth being your mother.”

“To die of a broken heart, is to die having known what true love was.”

—

Adrianna slumped down the wall of her new quarters, boxes still not unpacked, pale and confused, a video call still ongoing with her brothers. She was numb and yet feeling the weight of her father's words like he had been talking directly to her.

Looking over, Vance raised a brow, “you alright?”

Adrianna just shook her head.

“Ade, Gio, are you in a position to come home? I can have everything arranged in a day or two,” came the voice of one of her brothers.

“Yes– I'll be there as soon as I can. We have about a week before we need to leave,” she replied, “I need to pack and then I'll get the first shuttle back.”

Adrianna ended the call. Vance stood up and walked over, cautiously. “They're gone, Vance. My parents.”

Vance didn't need the details, he simply crouched down and pulled her into a silent embrace, allowing Adrianna to break in the safety and comfort of his arms.

“They're gone.”

 

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