Silent love

Chapter 55

On the previous chapter...

"Let them talk". Yaqueline said, voice rising slightly. "Let them all talk. But I won't pretend he didn't exist. That he didn't matter. That I didn't care for him".

That last part struck something in the air, made it still, even for a second.

Silvio finally looked back at her, his icy eyes unreadable.

"If we do this". He said slowly. "It stays small. Private. No press, no show".

Yaqueline nodded. "That's all I'm asking".

Immanuel exhaled, muttering, "The world is already watching too closely".

"We do it at the chapel". Fiorenzo suggested. "By the cliffs. At sunset".

Silvio considered that, then gave a single, sharp nod. "Fine. We'll give him that".

Yaqueline didn't say thank you. She didn't need to. She just closed her eyes for a moment and breathed, really breathed for the first time that day.

And in that breath, she could finally feel it.

Grief was heavy.

But remembering him? That was the only thing that kept her from drowning in it.

                        ʚ  ɞ

Fiorenzo stood at the doorway of his mother's room, filled with dust and memories. The walls were lined with boxes, forgotten relics of a life long gone. Celeste Mancini's room had remained untouched since the overdose, a tomb of grief disguised as a bedroom.

He pulled a battered box from the shelf, brushing cobwebs aside. Inside were stacks of old photographs, yellowed at the edges, brittle like the past they held. He sifted through them carefully, family portraits, birthday snapshots, holidays under the Sicilian sun.

But in every photo with Federico, his brother was absent. Well his mother made sure he was absent.

The space where Federico should have been was torn, scribbled over, or blurred with ink. His mother's anger and pain etched into every image.

Fiorenzo's fingers trembled as he picked up a family photo. The five of them, but Federico's face was scratched out, a cruel jagged line running from cheekbone to lips, mimicking the scar his brother bore. A scar he never saw as just a mark but as a symbol of their fractured history.

Their mother couldn't even look at him. She couldn't face what he reminded her of. Their mother was already a mess when she met Giulio. She got worse when she was with him. In the beginning of their marriage, she was happy. She never felt so much freedom.

Then it got taken away from her, not only that but her virginity. He raped her. Giulio wanted someone to take over the mafia if he is not alive anymore. Then they got Federico. After this birth she would use drugs, all kinds of, to not feel anything anymore.

She thought maybe having another child will make her forget the old memories. So they got Seraphina. But it didn't. She thought maybe another one will make it forget.

They got Fiorenzo.

But it didn't.

It never did.

But Fiorenzo was different for her. She saw herself in him, perhaps the eyes. He was the only one who got their mothers eyes. Big and hazel.

Fiorenzo traced the line with his thumb, feeling the bitterness beneath.