The Edge of Light ✔️

Chapter Thirty Two

E L E N A

The soft morning light streamed through the window, gently waking me from sleep. I blinked drowsily, feeling the warmth of the sun touch my skin. Eight months ago, my life had been anything but peaceful. Now, nestled in the rural cascade of Tuscany, far from the darkness of the world I was born into, everything had changed. I was free, living the life I had always dreamed of.

The first few months after I left, though, were not easy. I couldn't stand the silence — it felt like it was pressing in on me, suffocating me. I'd keep music playing all day, audiobooks narrating in the background, or the TV on just for the noise. The quiet felt too close, like it carried all the memories I was trying to forget.

It wasn't until I met Lucia–a kind psychiatrist in the neighborhood–that I started to overcome that fear of silence. She helped me face what I was running from — not just the memories of Nikolai and the mafia, but the realization that I had killed someone. It had been in self-defense, but the nightmares had haunted me for months. I would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, unable to shake the images of that night.

It took time. It took effort. But with help, I slowly came to terms with what I had done, and the nightmares lessened. I didn't need the constant noise anymore. I learned how to sit with the quiet, even welcome it. And now, here in this peaceful life, I felt more in control of myself, even if some scars ran deeper than I wanted to admit.

I slid out of bed, padding across the small bedroom of my one-story house. It wasn't much — just a cozy cottage, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and rows of vegetables and fruit trees. An apple tree stood in the corner of my garden, next to a lemon tree whose bright yellow fruit stood out against the greenery. The house was simple, but it was mine. The air was fresh and clean, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the occasional bird's song.

After a few minutes of meditating — something I had started doing to calm my mind — I headed to the small kitchen to brew some coffee. The morning was crisp, and the sunlight pouring through the windows filled the room with a warm, golden glow. I loved it here, in this quiet life. No violence. No mafia. Just me, the earth, and my garden.

I threw on a simple sundress and sandals, my hair, now in a short pixie cut, brushing my ears. It had grown a little since I first chopped it off, but I loved the way it felt — light and free. Nikolai had loved my long hair, and cutting it had felt like I was shedding the last piece of the woman I had been in his world. Now, I looked different, felt different. I had put on a little weight since moving here, my hips fuller and my skin glowing from days spent outside in the sun. For once, I looked and felt healthy.

I grabbed my bike and headed off down the winding path toward the local farmers' market. It was a peaceful ride, the quiet rural roads framed by lush greenery. As I pedaled, I breathed in the crisp morning air, feeling a deep sense of freedom wash over me. This life was exactly what I wanted. Far from the bloodshed and power struggles I had known.

At the market, I picked up fresh eggs, fruit, and some homemade bread from the vendor, who greeted me with a warm smile. "How's the garden coming along?" she asked, her voice cheerful as always.

"Doing great," I replied, returning her smile. "I should have fresh tomatoes next week."

She nodded and handed me a bag of peaches, slipping in an extra one. "On the house, for the hard work."

Back at home, I made myself breakfast — scrambled eggs with fresh herbs from my garden, some fruit, and a slice of the bread. I sat at the little wooden table in the kitchen, sunlight spilling in from the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was exactly what I had always wanted.

After breakfast, I spent time in the garden, tending to the flowers and vegetables. The garden had become my pride and joy — a colorful array of roses, daisies, and lavender, mixed with rows of tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers. The apple and lemon trees stood tall in the back, their fruits ripening in the late summer sun. Working the earth grounded me in a way nothing else could.

But sometimes, as I knelt there, hands buried in the dirt, a hollow feeling would creep up inside me. It was subtle, like a whisper, but it was there. I had everything I had ever wanted, but still, something was missing. I couldn't quite place it, couldn't put my finger on why this perfect life still felt incomplete.

I hadn't heard from Nikolai since he let me go. Not a call, not a message. No one following or spying on me either. Nothing. Cecile visited from time to time, but she kept things light, now fully aware of who I used to be. Emilio had become the head of the Italian mafia after our father's death, but I had distanced myself from him. I didn't want any part of that life anymore, though I missed him deeply. Sometimes I wondered how he was handling the weight of leadership or how the others — Matteo, In-Su — were doing. But I tried not to dwell on it. That was my old life. This was my new one.

Father had passed away not long after I had moved to Italy. It was murder. They had poisoned him. No one knows how, or whom to be specific. His funeral ceremony was held in Sicily. He was now resting with his ancestors in Rossi's very own cemetery. The day had passed in a blur. I hadn't cried. It felt too surreal. A man like my father, dying so suddenly from being poisoned? It all sounded like a bad joke. Nikolai was not at the funeral.

Still, every now and then, thoughts of Nikolai would sneak in. I'd catch myself wondering where he was, what he was doing. Was he okay? Did he think about me the way I sometimes found myself thinking about him? And then there was that emptiness again — that quiet, persistent longing for something, or someone, I didn't understand.

But I would shake it off. I had moved on. I had escaped that world. This was my life now — peaceful, simple, and safe. Yet, despite the beauty of it all, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I hadn't left everything behind.