Sins Of The Heart

Chapter Five: The Weight of Expectations

Elena

The kitchen felt too small. Or maybe it was me who felt too small, standing in the middle of it with four men whose names I had barely learned, whose faces were still strange to me despite the kindness in their eyes.

The air was heavy with the unspoken tension of my fear, though none of them commented on it. They were polite, kind even, but I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. Expectations I wasn't sure I could live up to.

I stared down at the glass of water in my hands, my fingers gripping it so tightly that I worried it might slip and shatter. But the coldness of it grounded me, kept me from floating away in the sea of anxiety that had been swirling around me since the wedding.

"Are you okay?" Matteo's soft voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up and found him watching me, his expression gentle and sincere.

I gave a small, stiff nod. "Yes... thank you." The words felt awkward on my tongue, like I wasn't sure how to speak to these people yet. I had been so used to silence in my father's house, to staying quiet and unseen, that now, even the simple act of responding felt like a struggle.

Giovanni's presence weighed on me the most. He stood close enough that I could feel his warmth, but not so close as to overwhelm me. Still, every time his dark eyes rested on me, I felt a jolt of something unfamiliar—something that wasn't entirely fear, but wasn't comfort either. I couldn't decipher it, and that frightened me.

I still didn't understand him. He had been so... gentle, and I hadn't expected that. I'd expected anger or demands, something more forceful. But instead, he offered me patience, space, and in that patience, I found confusion. I didn't know how to react to kindness. I didn't know how to trust it.

And then there was the gala.

I could still hear his voice in my head, telling me we had to attend together. That we had to be a couple in front of all those people. It made sense, of course. A marriage like this—an alliance—wasn't just personal. It was public. And that meant appearances. I understood that. But the thought of standing by his side, of being looked at, judged, scrutinized, sent a sharp wave of anxiety through me.

Would they all know how fake this was? Would they see right through me?

I had never been part of the world my father operated in. He kept me hidden, tucked away in the background, a pawn to be used when necessary. But now I was expected to play the role of a mafioso's wife, to fit into a world I didn't know and didn't understand.

My heart raced at the thought.

I felt a presence beside me and glanced up to see Giovanni watching me again. His eyes were searching mine, and for a brief moment, I wondered if he could see the storm of panic rising inside me. He had been nothing but calm, nothing but gentle, and I wanted to believe that he wouldn't let anything happen to me.

But trust... trust wasn't something I could give easily. Not yet.

"We'll be there," Angelo said suddenly, cutting through the quiet tension. "All of us. Don't worry about a thing. It's mostly just boring speeches and old men shaking hands."

His easy smile helped, if only a little, but it didn't erase the tightness in my chest. The idea of the gala wasn't just about attending. It was about being seen—about stepping out of the shadows that had been my safety for so long. And I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to be seen.

But I nodded anyway. "Okay," I whispered, the word barely making it out of my mouth.

Giovanni's gaze softened at my response, but he didn't push. He only nodded in return, as if acknowledging the weight of what I had agreed to. I appreciated that, even though the fear still lingered.

"I'll make sure everything is taken care of," he said quietly. "You don't have to worry about any of the details. I'll handle it."

His reassurance should have calmed me, but it only made the pressure more real. He expected me to stand by his side, to be a part of this life, and I still didn't know how I was supposed to do that. I had been thrust into this role, and now, I had to act the part, whether I was ready or not.

The conversation in the kitchen shifted after that, moving away from me and back to whatever business they had been discussing before I walked in. I listened quietly, not understanding most of it, but grateful that the attention was no longer on me.

I finished the water slowly, focusing on the simple act of drinking it, letting the coolness soothe the dryness in my throat. I could feel Giovanni's presence beside me, steady and unmoving, but he didn't try to engage me in conversation again. I appreciated the silence. It gave me space to think.

Or rather, space to feel.

The idea of the gala hung heavy in my mind. It wasn't just about being seen—it was about presenting myself as his wife. His equal. His partner. I didn't know if I could do that, didn't know if I could stand beside him with any sense of confidence or belonging. I wasn't his equal. I wasn't a part of his world.

But I had to try. Because that's what this marriage was about, wasn't it? I had to be the wife my father had promised him. I had to play my part.

The longer I stood there, the more the reality of that sank in. I didn't have a choice. I had been given to him, and now I had to live up to the role. Even if it terrified me.

"I should... go back to my room," I said quietly, setting the glass down on the counter. The words felt like an excuse to escape, and I hated that I needed to leave, but I couldn't handle being in the kitchen any longer. My nerves were fraying.

Matteo gave me a soft, understanding smile. "Of course. We'll see you around, Elena."

I nodded, my throat too tight to say anything else, and started to walk toward the door. But just as I reached the threshold, I heard Giovanni's voice behind me.

"Elena," he said softly, making me pause. I turned slightly, just enough to see him watching me with those steady eyes. "If you need anything, just let me know."

I nodded again, unsure of how to respond. There was something in his gaze that made me feel... seen. Not in the overwhelming way I feared being seen at the gala, but in a way that made me feel like I mattered. Like I wasn't just an obligation or a burden. It was a strange feeling, and I didn't know how to process it.

"I will," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I believed it. The idea of asking him for anything still felt foreign. But I appreciated the offer, even if I couldn't yet take him up on it.

I turned and walked back to my room, the silence of the house following me down the hall. Each step felt heavy, like I was carrying the weight of expectations I didn't know how to meet.

When I reached my room, I closed the door softly behind me and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The bed was still unmade, the curtains drawn slightly to let in the morning light. It was a peaceful space, but it felt distant. Like it wasn't truly mine.

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my hands twisting in my lap as my mind raced. The gala. The expectations. The role I was supposed to play. It all felt too big, too overwhelming. I wasn't ready for any of it.

But I couldn't hide forever. I couldn't retreat into the safety of this room and pretend that the outside world didn't exist.

The silence of the house pressed in on me, and I realized that despite the fear, despite the overwhelming anxiety that seemed to follow me everywhere, there was a part of me that didn't want to disappear. I didn't want to be invisible anymore.

I wanted to be seen—just not in the way I had been seen before. Not as a pawn or an obligation, but as... myself. Whoever that was.

The thought lingered in my mind, a quiet whisper of something that felt like hope.

Maybe, just maybe, I could figure out who I was in this new world. But it would take time. And patience.

And for now, I wasn't sure I had either.

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What's your favorite part of the story so far?

-M