Confessions
Dante
Andrea and my father don’t take long to excuse themselves and head upstairs to bed.
My mother waits until their footsteps fade away before turning toward me.
The fire crackles softly in the fireplace. The house is quiet, almost unreal after the chaos of this day.
“I don’t know what to do about Saturday,” I finally admit.
My voice is rough.
Exhausted.
She gives me a smile filled with infinite gentleness.
“On the contrary,” she says softly. “I think you know exactly what to do. You’re just struggling to accept that the right decision will hurt Bianca.”
I slowly shake my head.
“How can I even consider doing that to her? She’s been my friend, my confidante... She picked me up when I was at my lowest. What kind of monster abandons someone two days before their wedding?”
“An honest man, perhaps.”
I lift my eyes to hers.
“Because she’s never been anything else to you,” my mother continues calmly. “A friend. Support. But it isn’t love.”
She pauses.
“It never was.”
The truth slams straight into my chest. A strangled sound escapes me, and I bury my face in my hands. I never loved Bianca. Not really. She filled an emptiness. Nothing more.
“Fuck...”
Guilt crashes over me so violently it nearly suffocates me. I used her.
Maybe unintentionally. Maybe without even realizing it. But I did. And now the thought of humiliating her publicly makes me sick.
“I can’t do that to her.”
My mother stays silent for a few seconds before answering.
“Ask yourself another question. What would be crueler? Marrying her while knowing you don’t love her the way she deserves... or having the courage to be honest now?”
Silence stretches between us.
Flames flicker behind my tired eyes.
Then the words finally come out.
“I don’t even know if she still loves me.”
My mother doesn’t ask who I mean. She doesn’t need to.
“But you still love her.”
Her voice is calm, almost tender.
“You never stopped.”
I stare into the flames and confess shamefully,
“I was cruel to her. I said unforgivable things. I wanted to hurt her. Make her suffer the way I suffered.”
My mother rests a warm hand on my shoulder.
“Pain makes people do stupid things sometimes. Sometimes cruel. But it’s not what defines us.”
I close my eyes.
“She looked at me like I was a stranger.”
“She came back from hell, Dante. Attempted murder. A coma. Memory loss... She had to rebuild herself without you, maybe believing you had replaced her.”
Every word lands exactly where it should.
“She’ll forgive you,” my mother continues gently. “Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But if you show her you can do better... that you won’t repeat the same mistakes...”
Her voice grows firmer.
“A love like yours doesn’t disappear. It survives worse. Sometimes it breaks. But it doesn’t die that easily.”
I swallow the emotion choking me.
“And what if I lose everything? Bianca... and Valeria.”
She gives me a sad smile.
“Then you’ll lose everything while still being true to yourself. And believe me, that’s always less destructive than living a lie.”
Silence settles again.
The fire crackles softly in the fireplace.
And for the first time in years, I feel the truth taking shape inside me.
Terrifying.
Inevitable.