Chapter 2 - The Boy Who Never Slept
Hannah learned three things during her first week at the Ravalini penthouse.
First, Matteo refused to eat scrambled eggs unless they were shaped like clouds.
Second, he believed the monster beneath his bed was named Mr. Thursday.
Third, he had not slept through the night in almost a year.
Every evening at precisely 9:17, Matteo began to panic.
Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he hid beneath the dining table. Once, he tried to climb into a kitchen cabinet because he believed the monster could not find him there.
The first night Hannah witnessed it, she found him sitting beside his bedroom door, wearing his pajamas and holding a framed photograph.
His mother.
Isabella Ravalini had been beautiful, with dark curls and warm brown eyes. In the photograph, she was holding a laughing baby Matteo against her shoulder.
Hannah crouched beside him.
“Is Mr. Thursday bothering you again?”
Matteo nodded.
“Dad says monsters aren't real.”
“Your dad is right about the kind that live under beds.”
Matteo looked offended.
“Then why does mine make noises?”
“Pipes. Air vents. Old buildings sometimes make strange sounds.”
“What about the one that comes in my dreams?”
Hannah considered that.
“Dream monsters are different.”
“How?”
“They usually appear when something is frightening us in real life.”
Matteo looked down at the photograph.
“What if the frightening thing already happened?”
Hannah's chest tightened.
“Then we help your heart learn that it doesn't have to keep happening.”
She sat on the floor beside him.
They did not talk about monsters again that night.
Instead, Hannah told him a story about a rabbit who was afraid of thunderstorms. The rabbit built a pillow fort, invited his friends inside, and discovered that being frightened did not mean he was weak.
Matteo listened until his eyelids grew heavy.
Just before he fell asleep, he whispered, “Mommy used to tell me stories.”
“I'd like to hear about her sometime.”
“She died.”
“I know.”
“Everyone says she was sick.”
Hannah paused.
“Do you believe them?”
Matteo stared at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
It was the most honest answer she had heard from him.
The next morning, Lucas found his son asleep in bed instead of on the floor outside his bedroom.
He stood in the doorway for several minutes.
Then he turned toward Hannah.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing extraordinary. We talked.”
“About what?”
“Fear.”
Lucas's expression darkened.
“He shouldn't have to think about that.”
“Unfortunately, children don't stop being afraid just because adults would prefer it.”
He looked at her sharply.
Most people in Lucas's world agreed with him, apologized when he raised his voice, and never questioned his decisions.
Hannah did none of those things.
“You think I don't know my own son?” he asked.
“I think you love him. I also think you're so afraid of losing him that you sometimes forget to ask what he needs.”
The silence was immediate.
Hannah wondered if she had just lost her job.
Lucas looked toward Matteo's room.
Then, quietly, he asked, “What does he need?”
“Consistency. Patience. And a father who isn't afraid to let him be sad.”
Lucas said nothing.
But that evening, at 9:17, he sat beside Matteo's bed.
He did not try to explain away the nightmare.
He simply held his son's hand until the boy fell asleep.
From the hallway, Hannah watched them.
May you like
And for the first time, she wondered whether Lucas Ravalini was not merely a dangerous man who controlled everything around him.
Perhaps he was also a grieving father who had forgotten how to live with what he could not control.
