Chiara
CHIARA
T he night before we’re supposed to leave for Winter break, I’m sitting in my room, staring at the half-packed suitcase on my bed. My mind is a mess, tangled with thoughts of what’s happened over the past few weeks, and more than anything, I just want a break from it all.
A part of me is looking forward to going home, to having some time away from Willow Bridge and all the drama that comes with it.
But of course, nothing in my life can ever be that simple.
A knock on my door startles me out of my thoughts and I know who it is before I even open it. Giovanni’s the only one who knocks like that—firm, confident, as if he owns whatever space he’s about to enter.
When I open the door, his expression is serious in a way that immediately puts me on edge. This isn’t the playful, cocky Gio I’m used to. Something’s wrong.
He looks tense, his jaw set, and there’s a storm brewing in his dark eyes that immediately puts me on edge .
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, but there’s an edge of anxiety I can’t quite shake.
“Can we talk?” he asks, stepping into the room without waiting for an answer.
That’s another thing about Giovanni—he doesn’t ask for permission; he just takes what he wants. Most of the time, I find it endearing, but tonight it rubs me the wrong way.
“Sure,” I say, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t sit down, just paces the length of my room like a caged animal. “There’s something we need to discuss before we leave for break.”
My stomach tightens. The way he’s talking, the look on his face, it’s like he’s about to drop a bomb on me. And judging by the tension radiating off him, I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“Okay … what is it?” I ask cautiously, crossing my arms over my chest as if to shield myself from whatever’s coming.
He stops pacing and turns to face me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don’t.
“Dmitri came to see me about a week ago,” he says. “He thinks … he thinks we should get married.”
I can’t even process the fact that my stepfather came all the way here to see him before the follow up sentence made my heart drop. For a moment, I can’t even breathe; I just stare at him, waiting for him to tell me this is some kind of joke. But the seriousness in his eyes tells me he’s dead serious.
“Married?” I finally manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you out of your mind?”
“, just hear me out,” Giovanni says, his voice firm but not unkind. “Dmitri thinks it’s the best way to keep you safe. If we’re married, no one can touch you. It’s not just about us, it’s about making sure you’re untouchable even to my father. ”
“No,” I say, shaking my head as I take a step back. “No fucking way, Giovanni. I’m not marrying you so soon.”
His expression darkens, and I can see the frustration building in him. “I’m trying to protect you, . This is the best way to do that.”
“You think I want to be forced into a marriage because of some bullshit mafia politics?” I snap, my voice rising. “I thought you of all people would understand why this is a fucked up idea.”
“I do understand,” he says, but his voice is tight with anger now. “But this isn’t just about you, . It’s about us. It’s about making sure we’re both safe.”
“Safe?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “You think tying me to you is going to make me safe? All it’s going to do is put a bigger target on my back. And what about what I want? What about my choices? You can’t just decide this for me.”
Giovanni’s eyes flash with anger, and he takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming.
“I’m not deciding anything for you, but I’m trying to talk to you about this. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because this isn’t what I want, Giovanni!” I fire back, feeling the frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. “I don’t want to be married to you just because it’s convenient or because it’ll keep the bad guys away. That’s not how this works. I thought we were partners, but it seems like you just want to control me.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see something raw in his eyes—something that looks like hurt. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, hard expression that sends a chill down my spine.
“That’s not what this is about, and you fucking know it,” he growls, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m trying to protect you. Why the hell are you fighting with me when I’m trying to have a civil conversation with you?”
“Because I’m not ready to marry you!” I scream, the words tearing out of me before I can stop them. “I don’t want to be your fucking wife just because it’s convenient or because it makes you feel better. I want to be with you, but I need to do it on my terms, not because someone else thinks it’s the right move. What I need is for you to trust me, to let me make my own choices.”
“I do trust you!” Giovanni shouts, his frustration boiling over. “But don’t you see? This isn’t just about you making choices. It’s about keeping you alive!”
“And what if I don’t want to live my life like that?” I shout back, my emotions finally spilling over. “What if I don’t want to live in fear, always looking over my shoulder, always wondering when the next threat is going to come? What if I just want to live, Giovanni? What if I want to be with you without all this—this fucking insanity?”
Giovanni flinches like I’ve slapped him, and the anger in his eyes hardens into something colder, something that cuts deep. “Then you shouldn’t have chosen me.”
The words tear through my heart like a cold blade, and I feel the tears welling up, but I force them back, refusing to let him see how much he’s hurt me.
“Gio…” I start, but he cuts me off, his eyes flashing with anger.
“No, ,” he says, his voice sharp. “I’m done talking about this. You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s how it is, then maybe we need to rethink this whole thing.”
I feel a lump rise in my throat, but I refuse to back down. “I trust you, but this isn’t just about trust. It’s about my life, my choices. You can’t just bulldoze over that because you think you know what’s best.”
“Maybe I don’t know what’s best,” he snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I’m just a fucking idiot for thinking I could protect you, for thinking you’d actually listen to me for once.”
“Fuck you, Giovanni,” I hiss, my voice shaking with rage. “You don’t get to make this about you. You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here.”
He glares at me, his eyes cold as ice. “Yeah? Well, maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so fucking scared of actually committing to something real.”
The words hit me like a slap, and I feel the tears spill over, but I refuse to let him see me break.
“Get out,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion. “Just get the fuck out.”
Giovanni’s expression twists and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something, something that might change everything. But then, just as quickly, he shuts down, the walls slamming back into place.
“Fine,” he says, his tone as cold as ice. “If you can’t figure out what you want, then maybe we’re wasting our time.”
The words hang in the air, a final, bitter blow that leaves me reeling. I open my mouth to respond, to say something, anything, but the words won’t come. Instead, I just stand frozen as Giovanni turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattles the walls.
Maybe we’re wasting our time.
Is that really how he feels? Or was he just lashing out, trying to hurt me because I hurt him first? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, and I collapse onto the bed, burying my face in my hands as the sobs wrack my body.
How did it come to this? How did everything get so fucked up so quickly? One minute, we were planning for Winter Break, talking about our future, and now… now I don’t even know where we stand. I don’t know if I’ve just lost the one person who means everything to me.
I curl up on the bed, clutching the pendant around my neck, the one he gave me just days ago. It feels like a lifeline, a reminder that despite everything, there’s still something between us worth fighting for.
But I don’t know how to fight for it anymore.
Then you shouldn’t have chosen me.
His words turn over in my head, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s right.