41. Enzo
ENZO
T he coffin lowered into the cold ground among the ancient stone walls. The late morning sun’s rays bounced off the frost-covered graveyard, unable to warm our bleeding hearts.
DiMauro’s family. My wife’s. Mine.
Pen’s hand trembled inside mine, and when I glanced in her direction, my legs almost gave out at the grief I found in her eyes.
Penelope hadn’t slept in days, hadn’t eaten either. She just sat in silence, watching me and waiting. For what, I didn’t know.
And I… Fuck, I was a mess too.
Amara’s words churned in my mind, over and over again, while my thirst for revenge consumed me. I would keep my promise to her, but first I would make them pay.
I’d learned of the ultimate betrayal, and I intended to rain fire on the evil that had made Amara suffer. They killed the strong, bright girl whose life had barely begun. For pettiness. For revenge.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
The priest spoke gently, but I tuned him out.
Instead, I went over my plan, and the promise I’d made to Amara.
PENELOPE
The house felt too quiet, even with the soft murmur of voices in the next room. Grief had a strange way of making sound feel like silence—every whisper heavy, every step distant.
I sat near the window of our living room where my sister and I had spent many hours. It seemed as if it was only yesterday that she was beaming about the wedding dress as I was about to marry Enzo. And now… she was gone.
The glass in my hand felt heavy, the condensation soaking into my palm.
I hadn’t taken a sip. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to be comforted.
Enzo had been checking on me periodically, but he let me have some much appreciated space.
Then a shadow appeared at the door and I turned to find Enrico, my father-in-law, who I had barely spoken to since my wedding.
“Is it okay if I join you?” he asked.
Once I nodded, I watched him as he made his way over in a measured and calm stride. He was the older version of Enzo, but even in his age, he was a handsome man, giving me a preview of my husband in old age.
He sat beside me holding a glass of water, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. Just sat there, hands folded, like he was waiting to find the right words.
“I didn’t get a chance to say anything at the service,” he said softly, his voice worn at the edges. “I didn’t know what I could say that would make sense of anything.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what could make sense either. I just looked straight ahead, past the garden, to where the sky hung dull and gray.
“I keep thinking about what I tried to do… years ago,” he went on. “With the arrangement. The marriage between you and my eldest. I thought I was bridging something—pulling our families together.”
He paused. I could feel him glancing at me, though I didn’t turn my head.
“But I never imagined Enzo would end up with someone like you.”
That made me look at him.
He smiled faintly, not with pride, but something gentler. “I didn’t think love would come from it, although I hoped for it. I thought maybe respect, a quiet life, stability. But then… I saw the two of you. The way he looks at you. How you look at him.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. We hadn’t expected it either. It was supposed to be a duty. We had both braced for something colder.
“The part I didn’t account for was you and him,” he continued. “You found something real. I didn’t make that happen. You did. You make him happy.”
His voice wavered just slightly on that last word. I looked down at my glass, then set it aside.
“He makes me happy too,” I rasped.
“I’m sorry it took this—your sister—for us to sit like this. Death…” He trailed off. “It swallows everything, doesn’t it? Even the words we should’ve said before.”
I nodded, then swallowed hard. My throat felt raw.
“I’m grateful for what you have with him,” he said. “Even in all this loss, in the mess of the world falling apart outside… I look at you two, and I can’t help but think, something still worked. Something grew that was good.”
I reached over, slowly, and rested my hand on top of his. His skin was warm, and he let me hold on.
“It was only thanks to Enzo,” I whispered. “His stubbornness and the way he cared about my sister…” I smiled sadly. “I never stood a chance. None of us did.”
Neither of us said anything after that. The voices in the other room blurred into a distant hum. Outside, the clouds pressed lower and darker, but the knowledge that my husband was nearby made all the difference in the world.
Amara would want us to focus on our future, not dwell on pain and loss.