Chapter Seven – Lunetta
The man steps forward.
He’s tall like someone out of a storybook. He leans slightly toward us, and his voice is quiet when he says it.
“Hello.”
He scares me. I hide behind Bea. I’ve never seen a man like him before.
He’s wearing all black—a long coat that fits him perfectly, like it was stitched just for his shoulders. His gloves are dark leather, smooth and expensive-looking. His shirt is black too, and even the edges of his shoes look sharp, like they could cut through marble.
But it’s his face that holds me still.
His hair is thick, deep brown, pushed back but a little messy, like he ran a hand through it before walking in. His features are strong—his jaw sharp, his cheekbones high, his mouth unsmiling but… still, somehow, commanding. And his eyes—
His eyes are steel-gray, cold and serious, but there are flickers of gold in them, like fire hidden beneath stone. I don’t know how eyes can look heavy and bright at the same time, but his do.
They meet mine for a second.
And something strange happens inside me. Something quiet. Like a flutter in my ribs. I forget to breathe.
He’s terrifying.
But he’s also… beautiful.
I don’t know what to make of it. My fingers curl tightly around Nonna’s sleeve. My heart beats too fast. And still—I keep looking at him. I have seen him somewhere, but I just can’t place it.
“Get the fuck out of my café.”
Nonna’s voice cracks like thunder. Sharp. Angry. Loud.
I gasp.
My hand flies to my mouth. Nonna never says words like that.
She just swore—in front of everyone. Out loud. In the café.
My ears burn. I glance around like someone might fall out of the sky and punish us for it. I’ve always been taught cursing was wrong. It brings bad things.
The man only smiles faintly. “I’ll be back.”
He turns and walks out, the other man behind him. The bell jingles once more as the door closes behind them.
No one moves for a second.
Nonna stands very still, her shoulders shaking slightly. I glance up at her, worried, but before I can speak, she storms past me.
She marches straight to Father Romani, her steps short but fast, her face darker than I’ve ever seen it.
“Animale senza vergogna!” she shouts—shameless animal.
Her palm strikes the side of his face. His head jerks sideways.
I gasp again, frozen in place.
And then—another slap.
“Vecchio verme ipocrita!” she hisses—you old hypocritical worm.
Father Romani stumbles slightly, his rosary slipping from his hand, his cheeks flushed red. He looks smaller now. Guilt is written all over his face, but he tries to gather himself.
“Please, Carmela, calm down—”
“Calm down?” Nonna barks. “Get out of my sight!”
Bea steps forward gently, voice quiet and steady.
“Father, I think you should go.”
Romani nods weakly, eyes flicking down. He picks up his rosary and shuffles slowly toward the door, limping a little as if the years have suddenly caught up to him. He doesn’t look back.
The door closes behind him with a soft thud.
I’m still frozen in place, trying to understand what just happened. My arms feel heavy. My feet won’t move.
Nonna turns to us, her face still trembling with rage.
“Stack the chairs. We’re closing the café.”
I blink. “But, Nonna, it’s only—”
Bea cuts in quickly, grabbing my hand. “Don’t argue. Just do it.”
She gently pushes me toward the tables and starts lifting chairs onto them, one by one.
I follow her lead, though my hands feel clumsy and slow. I watch her movements—she flips the chairs over and balances them on the wooden tabletops like she’s done it a thousand times. I try to match her pace, trying not to drop anything or make noise.
Nonna lowers herself into one of the chairs at the corner table. Her knees creak a little, and I notice she presses one hand to her lower back before sitting fully. She looks older all of a sudden—tired in a way that worries me.
Her lips are moving again.
Her fingers move quickly along the rosary beads. “Ave Maria, piena di grazia…”
Her voice is low, almost whispering. She keeps repeating the words, over and over, her gaze unfocused. It’s like she’s trying to sew herself back together with every Hail Mary.
I keep stacking chairs, stealing glances at her. Bea is near the window now, drawing the curtains closed. The café is dimmer now, quieter.
“Holy Mother,” I whisper under my breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
****
Even when we return from the café, the tension doesn’t ease up. Nonna goes wordlessly to the kitchen and begins to cook.
We want to help but she orders us to sit till she calls us. She says prayers as she cooks. Bea and I sit in my room, wordlessly exchanging glances.
When Nonna calls us to the table, we come quietly.
There’s soup and bread, and everything looks normal, but something about the way Nonna sets her own plate down makes my chest feel strange.
When she does sit, she doesn’t pick up her spoon.
“Child,” she says, voice calm but heavy. “You’ll be going to Germany.”
I stop completely.
The words don’t land right. For a moment, I’m not even sure I heard them properly. I glance at Bea, then back at Nonna.
“To… where?”
“Germany,” she says again. “You’ll be leaving in three days. I’ll go with you.”
I stare at her. My spoon is still resting in the bowl, untouched.
“For what?”
“To study,” she says plainly. “You’ll be enrolling in college there.”
College?
I feel my chest tighten. “But I’ve never planned—”
“You don’t need to plan. We’ll take care of everything once we arrive.”
My eyes flick to Bea again, hoping for help, for a smile or a joke. But she’s not smiling and this is not a joke.
College?
That’s not for girls like me. Here, only the boys went. The ones who wanted to work in banks or become office men. Everyone knew that. The girls stayed back—helped their mothers, worked in shops, married early, raised children.
Even Bea, who was always the smart one—sharp-tongued and confident—used to say she’d go someday, but only when she could afford it on her own. She didn’t want to burden her mother. She’d laugh and say it was a future dream, not something meant for now.
But me?
I never even thought of it.
I only ever imagined staying here with Nonna. Helping her. Getting married someday. Having babies. Making a small life. I dreamed of Nonna living with me in my future house, sitting on a chair by the window with a knitting basket on her lap and warm slippers on her feet.
That was all I ever wanted.
Not Germany. Not college.
“Nonna…” My voice is thin. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s time,” she says.
“But why now?” I ask, heart thudding. “You’ve never spoken about college before.”
Bea drops her gaze to her lap. Her fingers grip the edge of the tablecloth, knuckles white.
“You’ll go,” Nonna says. “Three days is enough to say goodbye to your friends.”
It hits harder this time. Not just leaving—leaving fast. Like being pulled from the roots.
My eyes sting. “Are you sending me away because you’re tired of me?”
Nonna’s eyes narrow slightly, but not with anger. Just something deeper. Something I don’t understand.
“I’m not tired of you,” she says.
“Then what did I do?”
“You did nothing.”
“Then why does it feel like punishment?”
“It’s not punishment,” she says.
My chest aches. “I don’t want to go. How do you even have the money.”
“It has nothing to do with you, child.”
“I’m not ready!”
“You’ll be fine.”
The room spins a little.
I’ve always been good. I’ve always done everything she asked. I help at the café. I wake up early. I keep the house clean. I pray. I say my rosary. I never went behind her back. I never caused trouble. I never even—
“Bea will visit you often,” Nonna says, turning to her now. “Once Lunetta’s settled, you’ll go to see her as many times as you wish. I’ll take you myself.”
Bea’s mouth opens slightly, but she only nods.
Her eyes are glassy. Her throat moves like she’s trying to swallow something heavy.
But she forces a soft smile and turns to me. “It won’t be so bad, Lune.”
I look at her, eyes wide. “You’re not the one being sent away.”
She doesn’t answer.
Nonna rises from her chair, her hands smoothing down the front of her skirt.
“You’ll start packing tonight.”
I sit there, stunned.
“You won’t leave this house until we go,” she continues. “You won’t come to the café. Not even to church. You’ll stay inside.”
I stare at her, frozen.
“I’ll speak to Bea’s mother,” she adds. “You’ll be getting a small phone. One you’ll carry with you at all times.”
Bea nods faintly.
Nonna’s gaze settles on her again. “And you—watch her. Like a hawk.”
Bea nods again. “Yes, ma’am.”
My throat burns. I feel like I’m drowning and no one sees it.
Nonna turns to me once more.
“Do you understand? Do you understand?” Nonna asks again, her voice firmer now.
I push back from the table, and I stand, heart pounding, and without thinking—I kick the chair aside. It topples behind me with a loud thud.
“Lune—” Bea’s voice reaches me, but I’m already running.
I push open my door, and stumble inside. I drop to the floor—my knees hit hard, but I don’t care. I curl into myself, burying my face in my lap, arms wrapped around my legs, and the sobs come fast.
The door creaks open behind me.
Bea’s footsteps are quiet as she walks in. She doesn’t say anything at first. She just lowers herself to the floor beside me and sits close, her arm touching mine.
I can’t lift my head. I feel like it’s all sinking deeper—like I’m being pulled underwater.
Bea places her hand gently on my back, rubbing slowly.
“Maybe this is all for the best,” she says quietly. “Maybe you’ll stop seeing that man you’ve been seeing.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
The second time I saw him, Nonna took me to the hospital again—said it was just to check, just to make sure. But the doctor gave me more of those calming drops and told me to keep drinking the herbal tea and doing my breathing exercises.
But none of it worked. The fear stayed. I never saw the man again but I wasn’t sure how long he would stay away.
I sniff and lift my head slightly. “Do you think Nonna… hates me?”
Bea’s brows draw together, her hand still resting gently on my arm.
“Who could hate you?” she says softly.
Her voice is so kind it makes my heart ache even more.
I turn and throw my arms around her. She hugs me back tightly, her chin resting on my shoulder.
“This is a nightmare, isn’t it?” I whisper. “It has to be.”
Bea pulls back just enough to look at me.
“How could I live without you?” I ask, tears slipping down my cheeks again.
She doesn’t have an answer. She just pulls me close again and holds me tighter.
Why is this happening?