Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 38

Hello my darlings (waves at all of you), I hope you're all well.

My current favorite song is safe in your hands by Eli Lieb. Should you get a chance to listen to it, I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do. 

People protect what they love.
~Jacques Yves Cousteau~

*Unedited*

Sophie

I was tired of staying in the house. I had become bored of this unending routine. I missed my job, it may not have been the best job or even my dream job, but I missed doing something with my time. I rarely left the house these days, and when I did, it was for a few minutes shopping with my grandmother.

"Sophie," my grandmother called. I knew she was in the kitchen because I could hear the dishwasher running. I got up, taking a moment to put on a sweater.

She probably wanted to berate me for staying cooked up in the house.

"Go out," she kept saying, "link up with your friends and stop mopping. Have fun"

"I'm not mopping," I would retort

"Then what are you doing? Nursing a heartbreak? Darling, go dancing; you may find it will hurt less."

Nana was very intuitive. I sat down on one of the chairs at the dining table, watching her tidy up around the kitchen. I was tempted to tell her everything, but I couldn't. But she was right; I had to start going out more. 

I had promised Raphael I wasn't going to date, but truth be told, I didn't want to; I just wanted him to know he wasn't the only one—that I had options.

"Do you want to tell me about him?"

"Why do you think this is about a man? "

"Honey, you have heartbreak written all over you."

I shrugged, moving my eyes from her face to the window. I didn't want to cry anymore; I have cried over Raphael for too long and too much; I didn't even think I had enough tears left, yet here I was crying again. I could feel my cheeks glistening with tears.

The whoosh of my grandmother's long skirt was the only indication that she was about to sit next to me. 

"Tell me about it," she urged softly, reaching out to wipe off the tears that were still coursing uncontrollably down my cheeks.

The whistling sound of the kettle heating was comforting. It was a sound I always associated with home and nana. This was home; I shouldn't be sad; I should be happy that I was finally home with my grandmother after so many months. 

"Tell me about him," She insisted. "You're in love with him," She said it like a statement and a question. 

"No, I don't love him. Not anymore," I replied grudgingly, leaning back on my seat, lifting my legs, and putting them on the stretcher of the seat. I heard my grandmother shift on her seat, but I didn't look at her; I was hoping she would give up on the conversation, but she did not, nor was she going to. 

"Did he cheat on you?"

I shook my head

"Hit you?"

"No. Raphael would never hit me."

"At least we have established his name is Raphael."

"Darling, what did he do that was so horrible you cannot forgive him for it."

"He lied to me" That was the only version I could tell her 

"Was it a necessary lie?'

"What do you mean? He had no right to lie about anything, whether he deemed it necessary or unnecessary."