Page 182 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Yes?” The honesty in it catches me slightly off guard.

“What’s the situation?” Aisha asks.

“He loves her.” She swirls the wine slowly in her glass. “Period.”

“Are you trying to ask us something, Atelia?” I ask quietly.

“Maybe?” She finally looks at us. “What would you do?”

“Fight,” Aisha answers immediately.

“No.” I glance at her and she shrugs unapologetically.

“If you love somebody, why would you just back away because it’s complicated?” she continues. “Life is already complicated. People act like love is supposed to arrive perfectly packaged with background music.”

“That’s terrible advice,” I counter.

“No, your advice is terrible.” She points at me now. “Because I already know what you’re about to say.”

“Let it go,” I offer anyway.

Atelia’s eyes flick toward me carefully.

“If someone loves somebody else,” I continue softly, “Then forcing yourself into that space just…” I pause briefly. “It hurts eventually.”

“That is such emotionally constipated behavior.” Aisha groans.

“It’s realistic.”

“It’s fear.” She shoots back.

“It’s self-respect.” I fire, holding my ground.

“It’s cowardice.” She doesn’t let up.

“You think, babe?” I laugh softly despite myself, shaking my head. “Not everybody wants to fight forever, Aisha.”

“Maybe not,” she replies. “But if the love is real enough…” She trails off pointedly.

“I think loving Robert already feels hard enough.” Without thinking, without even realizing I’m doing it, the words leave me.

Silence follows after that. So much so that my own voice seems to replay back at me immediately.

I blink repeatedly.

Aisha’s eyes widen slowly over her wine glass.

Atelia catches it, the corner of her mouth curving upward immediately, satisfaction glittering in her expression like she’s just won a private bet.

“There it is,” she hums softly.

“I didn’t…” I feel the heat climb straight into my face. “I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” she cuts in lightly.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

“No judgment.” Atelia lifts her wine glass slowly. “A toast instead… To finally admitting feelings like a functioning human being.”