Evelina

(xx)

Draven

Her laughter echoed through the house like a melody, soft and sweet. Watching Antonio mercilessly tickle Evelina, drawing out that precious sound, stirred something bittersweet within me. I missed hearing that laugh, seeing her carefree and happy. She said something in Italian, and though I didn't understand the words, the joy in her voice was clear. There was a part of me that felt jealous, that he could make her laugh so easily, but there was a bigger part that felt relieved—grateful, even—that she was being taken care of.

I turned away, my heart heavy yet warm. I was late—so late—to realize just how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. The old teachings about emotion being weakness filled my mind, but now, I understood. Loving someone, allowing yourself to be vulnerable—that was not a weakness. It was a reason to live. Because when you love, you want to protect, to hold onto that precious thing. I'm sorry, my dear daughter. I should have known sooner.

As I moved to leave, I saw them: the previous Don and Donna of the Italian Mafia, Evelina's in-laws. "Mr. Morrigan," the ex-Don called out, his voice firm yet polite.

I stopped, turning to face them. "Yes?"

"Can we talk, Mr. Morrigan?" he asked.

"Of course, and please, call me Draven."

"Go to the office," the ex-Donna chimed in. "We'll join you in a moment."

I nodded and headed to my office, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort as I settled into my thoughts, swirling with guilt and a strange, hollow hope. How could I ever make things right after so many years?

The knock at the door pulled me from my reverie. "Come in," I called.

The ex-Don and Donna entered, carrying a small, worn-looking box. The ex-Don's expression softened, a look of understanding crossing his face. "I don't know what it's like to lose a child," he began. "But I do know what it's like to love one. When we found Evelina, we knew she was your daughter. I wanted to tell you then, but... it felt like it should be her choice."

His words hit me hard, but before I could respond, the ex-Donna added gently, "Even so, we captured some moments of her childhood. Memories. Would you like to see them?"

My throat tightened, but I managed a nod. "Yes, I would love that."

The ex-Don carefully opened the box and pulled out a CD, holding it with a quiet reverence. "Do you have a computer?" he asked.

I quickly gestured to the one on my desk. He inserted the CD and stepped back to give me space, letting me take control. My hand hovered over the mouse for a moment before I clicked on the first video.

The screen flickered to life, showing a small, bruised Evelina sitting on a bench near a serene lake. My heart clenched at the sight of her—so young, so vulnerable. The ex-Donna's voice came from off-screen. "What's your name, dear?"

"Eve Morrigan," my daughter answered in a soft, hesitant voice.

"And how old are you?"

"Eight," she whispered.

"Where are your parents?"

Evelina's small frame shook as she broke down into tears, her voice cracking as she said, "I don't know... but I miss my mom."

"Do you want me to take you to them?" the ex-Donna asked, stepping into the frame to gently hold Evelina's small hands in her own.

Evelina shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with fear. "No... Daddy will ask me to kill the bad guy."

The ex-Donna's voice softened, filled with compassion. "You don't want to kill him?"

Evelina shook her head again, tears streaming down her cheeks. "If I do, he will die... I don't want to kill anybody."

The ex-Donna pulled her into a hug, comforting her. "It's okay, dear. You don't have to kill anybody if you don't want to."

I watched as the video ended, feeling an ache deep inside me. How could I have done this to my own child? The screen flickered again, and a new video started. This time, Evelina was older, maybe nine. She stood in a kitchen with a small boy next to her.

"Eve, you're only nine," the boy, whom I recognized as Enzo, said with exasperation.

"I know," Evelina snapped back, determination etched on her face. "I still need to make a cake for Tony's birthday."

"Eve, it's two in the morning."

"I know, I know, Enzo! But imagine Tony's face when we wake him up in the morning with a cake," she replied with excitement.

Enzo groaned. "Then I don't want to help."

Evelina turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Vincenzo Giannino, if you don't help me, I won't help you prank Antonio tomorrow."

"Fine, fine. Sorry," Enzo muttered sheepishly, clearly defeated.

The video showed them baking the cake, laughing quietly as they worked together. When they finally slid the cake into the oven, Evelina turned to the camera, a victorious smile on her face.

"Mission accomplished! Thank you, Enzo."

The video ended, and I sat there, staring at the screen, lost in the emotions swirling within me. These were moments of my daughter's life I had missed—moments I would never get back.

The ex-Don and Donna sat quietly, letting me process it all. "We have more, if you'd like to watch them another time," the ex-Don offered gently.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

They stood to leave, but before they walked out, the ex-Donna paused at the door, giving me a soft smile. "She's happy now, Draven. With Antonio, with her family. You should be proud. I'm sure she'll forgive you, just stick around."

As they left, I was left alone with the memories—the memories I had missed, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, I could still be a part of her future.