How long has this story been going on?
For almost three years.
Three years? So it started right away?
Yes, almost immediately.
I can't believe it, I really can't believe it. Tell me I'm dreaming.
Don't put your hands on me, please: there's the baby.
You are crazy? Do you think I can beat you?
Any man can become violent at certain times.
Antonia, I still belong to that generation of idiots who believe that a woman shouldn't even be touched with a flower.
I distrust men.
Me too?
I distrust everyone.
You don't know me at all.
You don't know me either.
I see.
Have you ever wondered who I am?
A thousand times, Antonia, but apparently I haven't found the answer. I've always known that you're a difficult woman, but I believed you were honest. What happened to that woman?
Michele, sorry, I don't feel like talking now: I just want to vanish from here.
You're right, I would like to hit you: but I won't, and not because the child is there. I'd rather hit my brother. I can't believe he lied to me all this time: I mean, we were sitting together at the table, he passed me the salt, I poured him the wine, we chatted about this and that, we played tennis, we had diving competitions in the pool, descents in the mountains, we stopped to eat a sandwich at the refuge, and in the meantime he thought about the fuck he had just had with my girlfriend. What a bastard!
Don't hate him, please: he suffered too, and a lot.
I want to hate him, but I can't: I carried him as a child, I was so proud of my little blond brother, damn it!
I know, Michele.
I had noticed for a while that he was ill, but I never imagined that you were the cause. Although, to be honest, I noticed something strange. But how could I think that you were so false, so incredibly lying to me? How could you not tell me anything?
I didn't want to lose you, Michele: I wanted to be with you, not with him.
You wanted to be with me and fuck with him?
I know, it's hard to understand.
A little more than hard, if you allow me. Maybe try to explain it to me, huh.
I was sinking in quicksand, you were the only thing that remained still in my life. I tried hard, believe me: I removed the thought, I hoped to heal.
Heal?
Yes, heal.
You are right. In fact you must be sick, there is no other explanation: he had just turned sixteen when you met him. Sixteen, Antonia!
I'm sicker than you might think: all the more reason to let me go.

I mean, let me understand: you wanted to be with me even if it meant lying every day?
It was the price I had to pay to be with you.
And now suddenly you don't want to be with me anymore? What has changed? What is it I don't understand, Antonia? I'm the one who should be angry, but it's not me who's sending you away, it's you who's leaving.
It's changed that Emmanuel is gone.
So what.
Don't you understand? I suffered like crazy. I felt terrible and had to pretend with you and everyone else. I could not do it anymore. I have to end everything and start again: I know I will be alone and I also know that it will be difficult, but I finally feel like I can breathe, away from you.
You know, right, that these words hurt me a lot. I have always tried to make you happy, I really did my best.
You have nothing to blame yourself: the problem is me, not you.
And what will you do now?
I'll manage somehow, don't worry. I'm going now, Michael.
Wait, Antonia. Sit down, don't rush things, give me time to reflect. Maybe there is a solution, and it's quite simple too.
What solution?
We will make others believe that the child is mine: only the two of us will know the truth. In time I will be able to accept it; after all, he is my brother's son, not a stranger's: it will be easy for me to love him. In fact, I already do.
You really don't understand, do you? I couldn't bear to see Emmanuel again, let alone hide the truth about his son from him. If I stayed with you I would be forced to do it.
Why don't you want to see him again?
Are you kidding me or do you really not understand?
No, I'm asking you seriously.
But how can you not understand? It's clear that you've never truly been in love. There is nothing worse than being forced to see someone you are in love with without being able to be with him: it is constant torture. And then with a child of his own, who will probably look a lot like him... Do you think he wouldn't guess the truth?
Maybe you're right. Or maybe not. The fact is that you are cutting him off from everything, you don't even want to tell him that the child is his: and this is absurd, as well as unfair.
Telling him the truth about the child would be doubly unfair: I couldn't be with him in any case and I would compromise his relationship with Arianna. The truth is that I can't live with him or without him.
Who was he, Catullus?
Ovid.
But why do you say you can't be with him? There's nothing impossible when you're in love, at least I think. Maybe I've never been in love, who knows. Or maybe yes, I've never told you everything about myself: I've had a past too. But that's not the point, Antonia: the point is that you're not telling me the whole truth, you're not convincing me.
You're right, it's not the whole truth.
So tell me: after a blow like this there's nothing left that can scare me.
There's no point in talking about it, since I have to leave. And then now that the baby is here I can't think of anything else: I feel the need to hide in a den, I think it's a natural instinct. I have to protect him, you know?
Yes, I understand this very well.
The mere idea of seeing your parents again in these conditions drives me crazy. I hoped with all my heart that you could save me, but it didn't work. Thanks anyway, Michael, thanks for trying.

You're doing everything wrong, Antonia: it's right now that it can work between us; before he couldn't, because our relationship was based on fiction and lies. But now you've told me the truth, or at least part of the truth, even if...

These are useless conversations now. Let me go, please.
I'm not holding you back.
You're sitting on top of my suitcase.
What an idiot.
You are not an idiot at all.
Of course I am: I never noticed anything, always too busy thinking about practical things, work, taxes, the villa, our new house...
It's your character, and it's one of the most positive sides of your personality.
Yes, of course, it must be because of the positive aspects of my character that you betrayed me. There was never a single minute in which you were sincere with me: you fucked with me and to avoid getting bored you thought about someone else, maybe more than one, who knows. I can't even keep the memories, Antonia: it was all fake, all an act. You destroyed everything. "everything".
Michael, at the moment I am not able to stand a trial. I have already tried and condemned myself: I'm leaving, I renounce everything, I don't want anything from you. What else should I do?
Try to put yourself in my shoes: I'm still in shock, don't expect me to reason coldly. Give me a moment.
In the end, if you think about it, that's right. I'm not one of you: I tried, you know, but I wasn't up to it. I have always been the last wheel of the wagon, less elegant, less beautiful, less everything. I felt constantly under scrutiny with my homemade hair dye, my ordinary hands, my small breasts, my imitation Borbonese handbag, my random brand shoes, my university studies that no one cares about. You can't imagine how humiliated I have felt all these years.
Humiliated?
Yes, humiliated. I want to return to my world, among ordinary people, live in an ordinary house, find a job as an ordinary person, without having to account to anyone for my failures and my mediocrity. I wasn't the right woman for you, you always knew it.
You were, or rather you are, exactly the woman I chose for myself: I have never wanted anything different from what you are, even if you are very confusing and have made some big mess. Here, dry your eyes.
I'm not crying.
Yes you are crying. Come on, come here: a kiss on the nose and everything goes away. It's wet, it looks like a dog's.
Don't make me laugh, now is not the time.
It's always time to laugh. And now what do you plan to do with the baby?
What questions are you asking me? I wouldn't give him up for anything in the world.
That's what I was hoping to hear. But what will we tell my parents?
Anything, just leave Emmanuel out of it.
What if he doesn't want to be left out?
He must stay out of it: he will never know that the child is his. Now he's happy with that girl, he doesn't have to know anything about it. I forbid you to talk to him about it, Michael, I would never forgive you.
You're crazy. Do you realize that you are losing everything for him?
Of course I realize that.
Are you sure of what you're doing?
More than sure.
But where are you going to stay?
I'm going to stay at my mum's house, at least for the first few months. She's a good woman, she'll get a little angry, but then she'll understand. Now I'm really going, Michael.