29 | Flashback, part 3
[Aurelia: Seventeen years old]
I stood at the doorstep of Franco's mansion, my knuckles gently tapping on the marble surface.
The sound echoed in the quiet, but I could hear the faint hum of activity from inside. It wasn't my first time here, but each visit still made my stomach tighten. It was because of the unease I always felt around Franco's father, the man didn't seem to like me.
When the door swung open, it wasn't Franco who greeted me. A maid, dressed in the usual black and white uniform, stepped into view.
She gave me a polite but distant smile.
"Is Franco home?" I asked her, my voice steady.
The maid didn't immediately answer, and I noticed the shift in her eyes, the hesitation. Before she could say anything, a tall figure appeared in the hallway.
Franco's father strode toward me with an intensity I couldn't ignore. His sharp gaze locked onto mine, and I immediately felt a chill run down my spine.
"Why are you always around my son?" he demanded, his voice low and harsh. The words came out like daggers, and I could feel the sharpness of them before they even fully registered.
I stepped back instinctively, confused. "What do you mean? I'm just here to see Franco. He's my friend."
But his face twisted into something darker, his expression full of disdain.
"You may think you're just 'friends,'" he spat, his voice venomous. "But he doesn't see you in that wa-" He paused, like he was about to say something more, but then he stopped himself, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.
He didn't give me time to process his unfinished words.
"Stay away from my son," he snapped. "He's making bad decisions because of you.You're ruining his life."
The words stung more than they should have.
Why did I care? I wasn't doing anything wrong. Franco was my friend. We'd spent countless hours together, laughing, talking, nothing more. But the way his father was looking at me, the anger in his eyes, made me question everything. Was there something I didn't know? Something I hadn't seen?
Before I could find my words, the door slammed in my face with a force that made me flinch.
I stood there, frozen, feeling like I had been slapped. His words reverberated in my mind, over and over.
Stay away from my son. You're ruining his life.
I wanted to knock again, to ask him why he had said that, to beg him to tell me what I was doing wrong. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I turned away, my heart pounding in my chest.
────??────
The summer night air is cool as I sit on the swings, the rusty chains creaking softly with every small movement.
The park is empty. It's just me and the dark sky above.
Though, I can't stop thinking about Franco's fathers wordsYou're ruining his life. It's all I've been able to think about since he said it.
I hate that I'm second-guessing everything. The self-doubt creeps in, like a slow poison.
My mind is so wrapped up in the mess of thoughts and emotions that I don't even notice the footsteps until it's too late.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I turn around quickly, my heart racing, and there's Franco, standing right behind me with that familiar smile on his face.
"You scared the shit out of me!" I snap, my voice trembling just a little.
Franco chuckles, low and warm, before reaching down to pull me into a hug.
I freeze at first. Nobody hugs me. Not like this. No one has ever shown me this kind of warmth, this kind of care. And I can't help but feel my chest tighten as I allow myself to relax into his embrace.
It feels... nice.
I never imagined it would feel this good to be hugged by someone.
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, and there's something soft there, something that makes me feel like I'm not as alone as I thought.
"How did you find me?" I ask, my voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.
Franco grins, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "We always hang out in this park. You weren't home, so I knew you'd be here."
I don't know what it is about his words that makes my heart flutter, but they do. He cares.
"Let's go, I want to show you something," He gently takes my hand and leads me away from the swings.
"Where are we going?" I ask, though I don't know why I bother. I can tell he's up to something, and I find myself following him anyway, unable to resist.
"It's a surprise," he says, his voice teasing but soft.
We walk in silence through the dark forest, the trees casting shadows around us as we venture farther from the familiar. It's strange, walking with him like this, in the quiet of the night. The world feels distant, like it's all just noise and we're the only two people who exist.
I feel like I could follow him anywhere.
Soon, the forest opens up into a clearing, and what I see there takes my breath away.
There's a picnic set out for two, a blanket spread on the grass. Candles flicker softly in the breeze, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. And at the center of it all, there's a huge birthday cake, decorated in delicate frosting.
I stand frozen, staring at the scene before me, unsure of what's happening. But before I can ask anything, Franco steps toward the picnic, and with a grin, he starts singing softly, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,happy birthday Aurelia..."
My heart stops in my chest. The words hit me like a punch to the gut because I had forgotten about my own birthday.
I've never had anyone sing to me before, never had anyone care enough to celebrate my birthday. It's always just been me.
My breath hitches, and suddenly I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
I try to blink them away, but it's no use. I start to sob, my chest tightening with the weight of emotions I didn't know I was carrying. The lump in my throat is too big to swallow. I can't hold it back anymore.
Franco stops singing and takes a step toward me, his hands reaching out to pull me into his arms. I let him. I clutch onto him tightly, needing the comfort, needing the reassurance that I'm not as alone as I've always believed.
"Thank you," I whisper through my tears, my voice barely audible. I don't know what else to say.
This is more than I've ever had. This is more than I ever thought I would get.
Franco doesn't say anything. He just holds me, his arms strong around me, as if he's trying to shield me from everything, from all the hurt I've carried with me for so long.
I can't remember the last time I felt really felt in someone's arms.
After a few minutes, I pull away from him once I've calmed down, wiping the tears from my eyes, as Franco gently leads me to the picnic blanket where we sit down together.
The cake doesn't have any candles, since Franco didn't want to risk setting the forest on fire, but that was fine by me. This was more than I'd ever received before.
Franco slices up the cake and gives me one plate as he takes another plate for himself.
I sit next to Franco on the blanket, the cake between us, the rich sweetness almost too much, but I don't mind.
"It tastes so good," I say, smiling at the slice of cake in my hand. "So sweet."
Franco grins, a glint in his eyes. "I know you love your sweets."
We eat in silence for a while, the sound of our forks scraping the plates and the soft hum of the world around us filling the quiet.
It's peaceful here, tucked away from everything, under the cover of night. But I can feel his eyes on me, like there's something he's not saying, something heavy on his mind.
I turn to him, my heart picking up speed as I ask, "What is it?"
"There's something I need to tell you," he says quietly. "I didn't want to say it tonight, because it's your birthday, but you need to know."
My breath hitches in my chest. His voice is too serious.
"About what" I ask, my voice suddenly small.
Franco takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I think he might not tell me at all. But then he does, and the words hit me like a slap across the face. "I'm not going to take over my father's security firm."
I freeze. The words don't make sense. I know how much his father wants him to take it over. It's all he's ever talked about, all his father's ever expected from him. I'm sure it's been mapped out for years.
"Are you out of your mind?" I ask before I can stop myself and I wish I could take it back. "Your father—"
"I think I am," Franco cuts me off, a faint smile playing at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He seems... different. "But it's the truth. I don't want to live my life for him."
I want to say something, but I'm too stunned. I just stare at him, trying to find something in his eyes that will make this make sense. But there's nothing.
Franco's gaze turns distant, his fingers curling around his cup as he looks at me.
"I'm going to become a soldier in the Famiglia for the Costa Mafia," he announces, the words so casual, so final.
I feel my heart stumble, then stop entirely as I process what he just said.
A soldier? For the Mafia?
"You... what?" I whisper, barely able to believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"I'm going to training camp next week," he continues, his voice low, steady. "I'll be gone for a while. It's the only way I can do this, Aurelia."
I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel. Everything inside me is breaking, crumbling in slow motion as I search his face for some sign that this is just a bad dream. But there's no sign. He's serious.
"Why?" I manage to croak out. "Why are you going away? Why can't you just stay here with me?"
Franco's eyes soften as he looks at me, but there's a sadness in them that makes my chest ache.
"I want to, Aurelia. I really do. But if I want to stay by your side for the long haul, if I want to have a chance at being with you, I have to do this.
" He pauses, his jaw tight as he exhales. "My father would never accept you."
I feel a cold wave wash over me, and I shiver involuntarily. "Is it because my father works for the Mafia?"
"Yeah," he says softly. "My father cut ties with the Mafia a long time ago. He's done with it. He doesn't want to be involved, and he sure as hell doesn't want anything to do with you or your family."
I feel the pain of his words like a physical blow, and I can't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.
"But I don't want you to get hurt, Franco," I whisper. "Being a soldier in the Mafia... it's dangerous. You could die..."
Franco reaches out, brushing my hair back from my face with a gentleness that feels out of place in this conversation.
"I'll be more hurt if I'm forced to stay away from you," he says, his voice rough but full of honesty. "I'll be more hurt if I can't be with you, Aurelia."