21 | Let's have a talk.
The hot water still clings to my skin, but the cold air of the house cuts through me as I walk down the stairs, freshly showered and bandaged.
The patches on my nails are small attempts at patching up a broken woman, but I can still feel the rawness in my soul, the parts of me that have been shattered and left to bleed.
I wish I could fix them the same way, but I know I can't.
When I step into the living room, I freeze at the sight of Luciano. He's sitting there, in his usual spot in the armchair, his eyes trained on me with an intensity that makes my heart beat faster, not in a good way, though.
I walk towards him, the silence stretching out between us like a wall that neither of us can cross.
I feel bad for what I did earlier. For throwing things at him, for acting out of control. It was wrong. I know it was. But when he called me mentally ill, something in me broke open, and I couldn't hold back.
He wasn't wrong.
I am mentally ill. I've been broken for so long that I don't know how to glue myself back together anymore.
I wanted to scream when he said it, to lash out at him for daring to call me out like that, but a part of me knew he had a point.
The woman who once tried to end her own life.
The woman who destroyed everything around her when things didn't go right. That's me.
Aurelia Nash.
I sit down across from him on a chair. The silence is suffocating, wrapping around me like a prison.
"Aurelia," Luciano says, breaking the quiet. His voice is softer now, but still firm. "Let's have a talk... Let's have a real conversation."
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. The words are there, ready to be hurled at him, but I hold them back. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want him to understand. To see me. To feel what I feel, even if just for a second.
But then the anger surges again, and I can't hold it back. "If you're honest with me then maybe we can talk."
He doesn't flinch, doesn't react. His expression doesn't change, though his eyes darken just a little, like he's bracing himself for something.
He finally sighs heavily, rubbing a hand across his face like he's exhausted by it all.
"Okay..." he says, his voice soft but resigned, "I'll be honest. But first, why did you have such an outburst earlier? What's going on in your head, Aurelia?"
"Why?" I repeat the word, as if the answer should be obvious.
"Why did I snap? Because you invited her into our home," I say bitterly, the words coming out sharp, like knives.
"My mother, Luciano. The woman who has always hated me.
The one who humiliated me in front of everyone during Ciara's funeral!
You invited her into our home. And you just sat there like it didn't matter! "
His face tightens, and for a moment, I think he's going to interrupt, but he doesn't. He just watches me with those piercing eyes, waiting for me to continue.
"I thought you'd protect me," I whisper, my voice faltering, but I can't stop it. "But you didn't. You didn't do anything. You let her in. You let her disrespect me, humiliate me, and you didn't do a damn thing. I thought you'd stop her. But no..."
I stop, my chest rising and falling with every breath, the emotion bubbling up again, threatening to spill over.
Luciano doesn't say anything right away, and I wonder if he's even hearing me.
"My mother..." I trail off, trying to gather the strength to say what I've never said out loud.
"My mother abused me, Luciano. She wanted me dead.
She didn't care about me. She wanted to destroy me.
" The words are jagged, each one a shard of glass, cutting deep as I say them.
"She lied to my father. She told him I wasn't his daughter.
She told him I was the illegitimate one when it was Ciara, not me. It was Ciara she cared about."
Luciano's expression shifts. I don't know if it's because he's shocked or disgusted, but I can see his brow furrow, his jaw tighten.
"She tried to protect Ciara," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Even if it meant to kill me. She didn't care.
I wasn't worth anything to her." I laugh, but it's hollow.
Bitter. "She even tried to sell me. She tried to sell me to an older man.
A man who killed his young wives. She wanted to get rid of me that badly. "
The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, the room feels colder.
Luciano doesn't speak, doesn't move. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable.
His voice finally breaks the silence. "Are you serious?" His words are quiet, almost a whisper. His eyes search mine, looking for something, and I see the shock there. "I had no idea, Aurelia. Fuck. I'm so sorry. Nobody ever told me, not even Chase."
I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting that. The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. It makes the edges of my anger start to fray, but I quickly shove it down.
"Chase didn't know either," I mutter, my voice bitter again. "But he tried to protect me, unlike Ciara. Ciara loved seeing me hurt. She loved watching me suffer."
Luciano's face twists, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.
"I didn't know, Aurelia. If I had known—" He cuts himself off, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I should have asked.
I should have done something. But I didn't know.
I didn't know about the things you had gone through. "
I meet his gaze, and for a moment, I see something in him that I haven't seen before. Guilt. Regret. Maybe even a little bit of sorrow.
"You should have done something about my mother instead of inviting her here and giving her just a small warning," I say softly, my voice trembling. "But it's too late for that now."
"No," he says, his voice hardening with resolve. "It's never too late. I'll deal with her. I'll give your mother the punishment she deserves. She will never hurt you again. I swear it."
"I don't believe you..." I whisper, barely above a breath.
Luciano stands up, walking toward me slowly.
"I'm going to deal with this, Aurelia. I promise. And thank you for opening up to me because I had no idea what she had done to you..." He crouches down in front of me, his eyes searching mine for some sign of understanding, some sign that I believe him.
And for a second, I think I might. But then the wall I've built around myself rises again, cold and unyielding.
"I know," I say, looking away. "But I don't know if it will ever be enough."
Silence settles between us once more, and he remains on his damn knees. At last, he breaks the stillness and speaks again.
"Aurelia..." he says my name, his voice low, controlled, with that little edge of frustration I've learned to recognize too well. "Did you really have amnesia?"
A chuckle rips through me, the kind that's sharp and full of disbelief.
"Amnesia?" I say, almost laughing, though the words taste bitter. "No. I never had amnesia, Luciano. I lied. Just too fuck with you."
I see his eyes flash with something, disappointment? Amusement? I don't know, but whatever it is, he doesn't get mad. No, he doesn't get mad at all. Instead, his lips twitch higher, a smirk curling slowly at the corners.
It's as though he expected nothing less from me.
"I knew it," he mutters, his voice rich with satisfaction, like he's caught me in some trap, but he's pleased that I've played along.
"You could never fool me, Aurelia," he says with that arrogant gleam in his eyes. "Not for a second."
I roll my eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, yeah? You're the king of reading people, huh? What are you, my therapist now?"
His smirk only widens, but then his expression shifts, ever so slightly. There's a flicker of something darker behind those eyes, and I feel it. I feel him trying to soften, trying to get under my skin in a way that isn't just about games.
"Aurelia," he whispers, his voice more quiet now, as though the weight of his next words is heavier than anything he's said before.
"I... I'm sorry. For not being there for you more.
For not noticing what was really going on with your parents.
Every time I asked Chase about your relationship with your parents, he said it was normal. He said everything was fine-"
"I never wanted you to find out," I explained, my voice low, barely above a whisper, but heavy with the truth. "I never wanted you to know what kind of fucked-up mess I came from."
He doesn't say anything at first, just watches me, his eyes steady. Then he stands up, slowly, and I brace myself for whatever's next. Whatever else he's about to drag out of me.
"You didn't deserve that, Aurelia," he says, his voice barely audible now, the softest whisper of regret. "I should have known. I should have figured it out. I should've been there for you. But instead, I was a fucking idiot. I was blind."
The words hang in the air, but I don't know how to respond. He's right. He was blind. But I couldn't blame him, he's Luciano Costa, he had way more important matters than to deal with my shit.
But there's something else that keeps coming up in my mind. Something I've been too hesitant to ask, too scared to even acknowledge.
"Luciano," I say suddenly, the question spilling out before I can stop it. "At the hospital... you said... you said I confessed my love to you."
His eyes flicker at the mention of it, the briefest crack in his otherwise impenetrable expression.
"You said you loved me, right before you jumped out the window," he says, almost gentle, though there's a tightness in his voice.
I try to find the memory, try to make sense of the fragments in my head, but it's all a blur.
"I... I don't remember that," I murmur, more to myself than to him. But Luciano is looking at me like I've shattered something in him. He looks like he's already reliving it.
"You did," he insists, a soft intensity in his tone. "You said you loved me, right before... you jumped out, it was only a whisper..."
I don't know what to say to that. The idea that I could've been that open with him, moves me to the core.
"Do you really love me, Aurelia...?"Luciano's words hit harder than I thought they would. They feel like a slap to my face, a violent jolt through my chest.
I could've sworn my heart stopped for a moment, but it doesn't matter. The moment his question lands, it forces everything inside me to surface, to bleed out in a way I hadn't been prepared for.
I've wanted him for so long. Hell, I've been in love with him for years. Since that first time Chase introduced me to him as his best friend. That was the moment it happened, the moment I fell for him, and it's been a goddamn curse ever since.
I avoid his eyes, pushing the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I loved you the moment Chase introduced you as his best friend."
It's not the whole truth. Not really. But it's as close as I'm willing to get. He doesn't need to know the rest. He doesn't need to know how many times I've spent sleepless nights aching for him, how many times I've imagined him touching me, kissing me, loving me in ways that I could never have.
I can't let him see how badly I've fallen for him. How deeply I've let myself be swallowed by this dark, hopeless obsession.
I feel his gaze on me, heavy and searching, and I'm suddenly suffocating under the weight of it.
"No fucking way..." he breathes out, almost too softly for me to catch it, but I do. And it cuts me in ways I don't know how to explain.
His voice is full of disbelief, like he doesn't want to believe it, like he's angry that I could have possibly felt something real for him all these years. Like my love for him is some kind of joke.
"Why?" he asks, his voice quieter now. "Why didn't you say anything before? Why keep it buried, Aurelia?"
I shake my head, my hands gripping the edge of the couch as if it's the only thing holding me up.
"You don't get it, Luciano. You never have.
You were always too fucking perfect for someone like me.
You were always untouchable, too far out of reach.
I never stood a chance, especially when Ciara entered the picture. "
His face darkens, his jaw tightening like I've said something wrong, something that hits too close to home.
"So you just decided to keep it all in, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with frustration now. "All this time, you just... kept it hidden? For what?"
I laugh bitterly, the sound cutting through the tension between us like a blade. "Because I'm not some fucking heroine of a rom-com, Luciano. I wasn't going to sit around waiting for you to notice me. I wasn't going to make myself pathetic. I knew what you wanted, and it wasn't me."
"I also didn't want you to look at me like that..." I whisper, the words barely escaping. "I didn't want you to think I was some desperate fucking girl, chasing after you."
Luciano laughs, but it's bitter, filled with something that feels like a combination of regret and pain.
"God, you really are a piece of work, you know that?
All this time, I've been fucking blind for so many things, and now I find out that you've been hiding how you feel from me.
..?" He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.
I stand up from the chair, looking into his eyes, even if it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest.
"I guess we're both liars then," I say, my voice thick with frustration, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth about our marriage when I woke up from the coma?
Why the hell did you lie to me about everything?
About forging my name on the marriage certificate. .. about all of it!?"
He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking on mine like he's trying to dig into my soul.
"Because I felt fucking bad for you!" He shouts, his voice thick with regret.
"You deserved better than that. You deserved more than a forged signature on a marriage certificate.
I... I always imagined you having the big wedding, the one with the dress, and the flowers, and all the nonsense.
You deserve that. You deserve better than me, better than what I could ever give you. "
Isn't it ironic? We're two people who believe we don't deserve each other.
"Why do you think I deserved that?" I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Why do you think I needed that? I didn't need a fucking fantasy. I needed you to tell me the truth when I had woken up, not lie to me because my whole life had been based on one lie."
He stares at me for a moment, then looks down, as though he can't bear to see my anger, my pain.
"I'm sorry," he says, and this time, there's no bravado. No arrogance. Just... raw, honest regret. "I fucked up, Aurelia. I fucked up badly, and I don't expect you to forgive me for it. But I need you to know... I am sorry."
I don't know what to say. The words don't come. The ache in my chest is too big, too complicated, too messy.
"But this is how things work in our world," he continues, his voice low.
"If I could've, I would've ended our marriage, but your father and I had already signed an agreement.
Everyone in the underworld expected me to marry Ciara Nash.
It wasn't just a choice, it was life and death because Ciara and I had crossed the line by sleeping together.
So I either had to kill your family, or marry her.
And I didn't want to kill my best friend, Chase.
.. I... I didn't want to kill you..."
The silence between us is suffocating, thick and tangled with the weight of everything we've said, everything we've hidden.
His voice breaks the silence like always, low and hesitant, as if he's afraid of the answer. "Aurelia... can we start over? Can we try to make something new of this, now that everything's out in the open? A new chapter, just the two of us?"
I bite my lip, staring at him, feeling the weight of his question hang in the air like a storm cloud.
It's ridiculous, isn't it? Starting over. As if that's something we can just do after everything. But I know the truth, I'm going to be married to him for the rest of my life, so I have to make it work.
I look away, staring at the floor for a moment, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my dress since I have the need to hurt myself.
"I'll agree to it," I say, my voice soft but firm. "It's better if we make this peaceful, if we stop fighting it. I don't want to spend my life in a constant war with you, Luciano. If this is the reality I have to live with, then fine... we'll make it work."
"But there's one thing," I add, my voice trembling slightly with the weight of it.
"I don't want to be your second choice. I don't want to be the afterthought, the one you only settled for because you couldn't have Ciara or anyone else.
And I definitely don't want to be disrespected ever fucking again.
" My words are sharp, bitter, the anger rising in me like a storm.
Luciano takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he looks down for a second before gazing into my eyes.
"I promise," he says, his voice steady now, his gaze unwavering.
"I'll never let your father or your mother hurt you again.
I'll make sure of it. I'll make sure you never have to face that again.
And as for the rest... I'll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are now, Aurelia.
I'll make sure they see you. They'll know you're my wife.
The wife of a mafia don. Not your sister's shadow.
Not anyone's afterthought. I'll make an official introduction.
A big one. I'll make sure the underworld knows you're mine. "
His words hit me like a physical blow. There's so much to unpack there. He's offering me something I never thought I'd have, his protection, his respect, his acknowledgment in front of everyone who matters in this world. The underworld. The people who hold power and sway.
It's everything I've ever wanted, isn't it? To be seen. To be important to him.
"And about love..." He pauses, his voice faltering slightly, as if he's unsure how to continue.
"I can't promise you that, Aurelia. I've never loved anyone before.
I thought I loved Ciara... but I didn't. Not really.
I've never been capable of that kind of love, so I don't want you to expect anything from me. .."
"But," he continues, "I promise loyalty to you. I won't cheat on you. I won't bring any mistresses into our lives. I won't dishonor you in that way. That, I can promise on my life."
I freeze. The words sink in slowly, the shock of it leaving me speechless for a moment. Loyalty. He's promising me loyalty, and the weight of that promise hits me hard. For a mafia don to promise something like that, to not take a mistress, to not bring in other women, is no small thing.
It's everything.
It's bigger than any declaration of love could ever be. And it feels like I've just been handed a piece of him I never expected to get.
I stare at him, trying to make sense of it all.
"You're... promising me loyalty?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper, as if I'm not sure I heard him right.
Luciano nods, his expression unwavering. "Yes. I know what it means, and I'm not breaking that promise. I swear it. No matter what happens, I won't betray you."
I shake my head in disbelief. "I never thought you'd say that. I never thought you'd promise something like that..."
He doesn't answer me right away. Instead, he steps closer, closing the space between us.
"Aurelia," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've never been good at showing affection.
I've never been good at any of that. But I'm promising you this now, if you're going to be my wife, you will never have to question my loyalty.
You will never have to worry about my commitment.
I'll protect you. I'll honor you in front of everyone from now on.
But I can't give you love. Not the way you want it. "
His words linger in the air, heavy with truth, and it stings. But I swallow hard, trying to control the tightness in my chest.
"If you break any of your promises," I say, my voice trembling with the weight of my words, "I swear to God, Luciano, I will kill myself. I'll end it all."
Luciano's face pales, and for a moment, I see something in his eyes that I can't quite place, fear? Regret? But then his expression hardens again, the familiar mask of control slipping back into place.
"I won't break my promises. I swear to you, I won't. My father taught me better than that. He taught me to always honor my word, no matter what. I won't let you go through that kind of pain. I'll keep my word to you," he says, his voice firm, almost protective.
His promise hangs in the air, thick with the weight of everything that's unsaid, everything that's still between us.
"I don't know if I can believe you," I murmur, my voice small, fragile. "But I'll try. For both our sakes, Luciano. I'll try."
He nods, his gaze never leaving mine. And in that moment, I know we're both bound by promises that may never be enough to erase the past, but they're all we have now. And somehow, we have to make it work.