Evelina

(xxi)

Draven

With a deep breath, I clicked on the next video, unsure of what I would find but unable to resist the pull of seeing more of her life—those moments I had missed. The screen came to life again, and there she was, my Evelina, barely ten years old, standing in a field. The first thing I noticed was the intense focus in her eyes. She held a pistol in her small hands, aimed at a target in the distance.

I watched, transfixed, as she steadied her grip, her brow furrowed with determination. The gun fired, and the bullet hit the bullseye dead center. Her eyes widened in shock, and then her face broke into a smile so radiant that it tugged at my heart. The ex-Don's voice, calm and supportive, came from off-screen. "Well done, Evelina. Your first bullseye."

Evelina turned toward the camera, beaming. "Really? I did it?"

"You did," the ex-Don said, pride filling his voice. She laughed, a sound so pure and happy that it made me want to weep for all the joy I had missed out on.

The scene changed. Suddenly, they were on a boat. I recognized the iconic shores of the Amalfi Coast, the water a deep, shimmering blue. Evelina, maybe twelve or thirteen now, stood on the deck with the Giannino family. The wind whipped her hair around her face as she laughed with them, her arm wrapped around Antonio's shoulders. They all looked so happy together, like a family who had shared countless memories.

"Papà, look!" she shouted, pointing at something in the distance—a dolphin breaking through the waves, playful and free. She clung to Antonio's arm as he smiled down at her, the two of them basking in the beauty of that carefree moment. The camera zoomed in on Evelina's smile, and I felt a pang in my chest. I had missed all of this—her joy, her laughter, the peace that she had found with them.

The video transitioned again, this time to her first day of school. She wore a backpack almost too large for her small frame, her hair neatly braided. Her nerves were evident as she clutched Antonio's hand, her eyes darting toward the school entrance. "Are you nervous, sweetheart?" the ex-Donna asked from behind the camera.

Evelina nodded slowly. "What if they don't like me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lorenzo knelt beside her and squeezed her hand. "They'll love you. You're the bravest, smartest girl I know."

Her face softened, and with a deep breath, she gave a small nod. "Okay, I'll try."

And with that, she let go of his hand and walked toward the entrance, glancing back only once before stepping into the unknown. My heart swelled with pride at her courage, even as I mourned not being there to offer her that reassurance myself.

The next scene was a fast-forward through her school years. Her first friends—a group of girls gathered around her in a playground, laughing and running. Then there was a trip to a pizza shop with Antonio, who seemed more like her protector than just a friend, always by her side. They joked, laughed, and teased each other like siblings, their bond clear even through the screen.

Another clip flashed: her prom night. She stood in front of a mirror, adjusting her elegant dress, a deep burgundy color that made her glow. Lorenzo, looking far too proud for his own good, hovered nearby, watching her every move. "You look beautiful, Eve," he said, his voice filled with awe.

"Are you sure?" she asked, turning to him with a shy smile. "I'm not used to all this... fancy stuff."

"You're perfect," Lorenzo reassured her. "Antonio's going to be speechless when he sees you."

I watched as Evelina's eyes softened, her smile brightened by the affection from those around her. She twirled once, the dress flowing around her like a dream.

The camera moved to the next significant moment—her high school graduation. Evelina stood tall in her cap and gown, her face a mixture of pride and disbelief. The Gianninos stood around her, snapping photos and offering congratulations. She looked overwhelmed but happy, her eyes scanning the crowd as though looking for someone. As soon as she saw that someone her smile widened and happiness danced in her eyes.

Her college admission was the next milestone. The camera captured her pacing in her room, talking to Lorenzo on the phone. "What if I don't get in?" she muttered anxiously.

"Eve, you'll get in," Lorenzo's voice came through. "You've worked too damn hard not to."

The camera cut to her reading her acceptance letter, and the look of pure elation on her face nearly brought me to tears. She danced around the room, screaming and laughing, hugging anyone within reach.

Her determination didn't wane as the video continued to show her studying for exams, late-night sessions with coffee and books strewn around her room. I watched her push through sleepless nights and stress, her perseverance a testament to the strong, intelligent woman she had become.

Then came a conversation I hadn't expected—a clip of her asking Lorenzo about self-defense. They sat in the Giannino's kitchen, Evelina's face serious. "Do you think I should learn to defend myself?"

Lorenzo looked at her, his brow furrowing. "You've never needed to before. Why now?"

"Because I don't want to be helpless anymore. I want to be strong enough to protect the people I care about. You saw what happened when the Germans kidnapped me," she said with quiet determination.

The next clip showed her practicing martial arts, sweat dripping down her face as she blocked punches, her focus unwavering. Lorenzo stood off to the side, coaching her through each movement.

Another video played—this time, she was older. She sat with Lorenzo again, a more mature, steely look in her eyes. "Do you think I could be an assassin?" she asked bluntly.

Lorenzo blinked in surprise but didn't laugh. He saw the resolve in her face, the intensity of her question. "If that's what you want, then I'll help you."

The screen jumped to her first date with Antonio, years after they had known each other. They were in a small, candlelit restaurant, laughing at something I couldn't hear. She looked so in love, so content. The camera followed them as they walked along the streets afterward, Antonio's arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

And then, finally, the wedding. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her walk down the aisle with Lorenzo by her side, Antonio waiting for her at the altar. Her dress was simple but stunning, flowing behind her like a river of white silk. The way Antonio looked at her—as if she were his entire world—made me realize just how much she had been loved, even if it wasn't by me.

The camera captured their vows, the tender way Antonio held her hand, the way she beamed up at him, her happiness palpable. It was the happiest I had ever seen her, and it broke my heart to know I hadn't been there for any of it.

The video ended, leaving the room in silence except for the faint hum of the computer. I sat there, staring at the blank screen, overwhelmed by the life I had missed—Evelina's life, full of moments that should have been shared but weren't.

My eyes welled with tears as I whispered into the quiet, "I'm sorry, Evelina. I'm so, so sorry."