41 | Our timing was just never right
The next day, I've packed everything I needed for the weekend in Sicily.
The warm weather calls for light dresses and skirts.
I finish zipping up the suitcase, smoothing out the creases with my palms. The weight of it is oddly comforting. I've been looking forward to this trip, to the escape. A break from the mansion.
I turn, ready to grab the suitcase, when I see Franco standing in the doorway. He's just watching me, those dark eyes studying me in a way that makes my heart beat a little faster.
"Let's go to Italy," I say with a large smile on my face.
But instead of moving, Franco stays rooted in place, his expression shifting slightly. "I'm not going with you."
I freeze."What?"
"Why not? You're my personal bodyguard. You're supposed to be with me," The words slips out before I can stop it, and I feel my throat constrict with unease.
Franco doesn't immediately answer. Instead, he lets out a slow breath, as if weighing his words carefully. When he speaks, his voice is softer. "Luciano is jealous."
I blink, confused. "I don't believe you."
"It's true. I saw him coming into the room the other day," he continues, "when we were both wearing face masks. He saw us, Aurelia. I didn't say anything because you were so happy. I didn't want to ruin the moment."
The realization hits me like a cold wave. I hadn't known. I had no idea Luciano had seen anything.
Franco steps closer, his gaze soft but firm. "I'll stay here. You go, do what you need to do. But I can't go with you. It'll only make things worse."
I feel a sharp pang in my chest. My mind races, trying to find a way around this. "No... I had so many things planned for us, Franco. We could visit the beach. Wine tasting. I thought—"
Franco gives me a sad smile, gently cutting me off.
"Aurelia, I want to do all those things too, and I know this might sound harsh, but you understand that in Italy, you'll be with Luciano and his family.
You'll have to take on the role of his wife, and you'll likely stay at his family home the entire weekend.
Of course, maybe he'll take you to the beach, maybe he'll do a wine tasting if you ask him. "
He's right. I know he's right. I have to fulfill my role as Luciano's wife. I don't have a choice in this, not really. But it doesn't make the sting of the reality any less painful.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at the floor for a moment.
"I know," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "But I still wish... that the one I was married to was you, Franco. You're better than Luciano."
The words feel raw as they leave my lips, like something I've been holding onto for far too long.
Franco's eyes widen at my confession. A flicker of something crosses his face, surprise? hope?but then it's gone, replaced by a quiet smile.
"I get it, Aurelia." His voice is low, knowing."Our timing was just never right."
A lump forms in my throat again. It's a bittersweet truth that settles between us, one we both know too well. The silence is heavy but comfortable, the kind of silence that could last forever if we let it.
Finally, Franco breaks it with a soft chuckle. "Let me take this suitcase to the car."
I nod, grateful for the normalcy in his voice, the way he's helping me, even now. He moves past me, and we head for the door, the quiet weight of the moment hanging between us.
But when Franco opens the door, I freeze.
Luciano is standing there, right in the doorway. His dark gaze locks onto mine, and for a split second, time feels like it stops. The air thickens, and I feel a chill creep down my spine. He's wearing one of his suits, his expression unreadable.
And just like that, the fragile calm I had built crumbles.
"Luciano," I whisper his name, barely able to keep the panic out of my voice.
There's no doubt he heard it all; his eyes carry a heavy, almost unbearable pain.