20. Aria
20
ARIA
A week before the engagement party
I wake to the sound of my door bursting open.
Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, Angelica strides into the room, and I bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. The intrusion slices through my drowsiness like a knife.
“ Christé mou , Angelica . You scared the shit out of me!” I cry out, rubbing my eyes as I try to shake off the fog of sleep.
The merciless throb in my head reminds me of my hangover. I drank way too much tequila in bed last night.
I press a hand to my forehead, hoping to quell the persistent ache, but my entire body conspires against me.
My best friend stands in the doorway, arms crossed, a frown plastered on her face.
“ Glad to see you’re alive,” she says, dryly. Though I can see the concern hiding behind her joking tone.
I glare at her, the remnants of sleep still clinging to my mind like cobwebs. “ Couldn’t you have just knocked, like a normal person?” I mutter, pushing the tousled strands of hair out of my face. With a groan, I cover myself with my blanket. “ What are you doing here?”
“ Saving you from yourself, apparently. What’s going on, Ari ? You’ve been avoiding me.”
It’s been a while since I last saw her, or anyone else for that matter.
With a resigned sigh, I throw myself back on the mattress, my gaze pointed at the ceiling. “ I don’t know, Ang . I’m lost. My whole life is being taken away from me.”
A pang of guilt pricks at me. I haven’t told Angelica about Dion yet, nor about what Andrew did to me, and it’s been eating away at me. She’s my best friend. I always tell her everything. The weight of the unspoken secrets presses down on me, though a part of me hesitates, a part that fears the consequences of letting the truth slip.
I know Angelica wouldn’t say a word to anyone. However , there are eyes and ears everywhere, and I worry it’ll somehow get out. That my father will find out. That Andrew’s reputation will be ruined, and he’ll make good on his threat.
Angie lies down next to me and grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. “ I can’t begin to imagine how you feel about the engagement, but staying locked up in your room isn’t going to help, Arioula .” She studies me for a moment, then adds, “ You know you don’t have to deal with this alone, right?”
I swallow hard, the truth threatening to spill out. I bite my lip, silencing the words before they escape. I can’t risk it—not when rumors spread like wildfire in Cebrene . And I don’t want to worry her by telling her about Andrew . She has enough on her plate.
Tears well in my eyes, and the lump in my throat makes it difficult to speak.
“ I don’t want to get married to him, Ang . I’ll have to live with him, sleep in the same bed, have sex with him.”
Angelica’s expression softens, her eyes filled with sorrow and understanding. “ We have to find a way out of it,” she replies.
“ How , Ang ? My engagement party is next week.” I want to tell her about Dion , how I feel about him, how he promised he’d find a way out of my arranged marriage.
And Andrew …when we first met, he was charming and funny. But now, in such a short time, he’s changed into someone unrecognizable. Truth is, I’m terrified. Terrified of what lies ahead if I can’t get out of the engagement, of the future that’s been mapped out for me before I even had a chance to choose.
Angelica whips her head around to look at me, stunned. “ How ? Your engagement was just announced. What’s the rush?”
I struggle to find my voice, to form coherent words amidst the frustration rising. “ That’s what I said! But our families want us married by the end of the year.”
When I’d asked my father why so quickly, he simply said there was no reason to wait. And with the wedding being only a few months away, Dion will have even less time to put whatever plan he has up his sleeve in motion. If he even has a plan…
“ That’s six months from now, Aria !” Angelica exclaims.
My heart thuds in my chest, and I raise a hand to my forehead, pushing back my hair as if I can physically push away the turmoil that’s threatening to overwhelm me. Angelica pulls me into a tight embrace, and I settle into her body, relieved that I don’t have to face this alone right now.
“ We’ll find a way to stop this. We just have to,” she repeats.
We hold each other for several minutes, while I let out all the tears—the frustration, the anger, the fear— I’ve been holding in for weeks. As we sit in silence, I vow to tell Angelica the truth soon. But for now, I’ll bury the secret deep within me.
A few hours later— Angelica having just only left— I decide to venture outside my room.
I push myself off the bed, wincing slightly at the bright light streaming through the window. I clutch onto my head, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment to relieve the pain.
Before stepping out, I pull on a sweater and socks. Comfort is the goal for today.
As I make my way downstairs, I run into Magda in the hallway, her arms full of laundry. I rush over to help. She looks at me with that knowing gaze of hers.
“ Yassou , liákada mou, pós eísai? ” Her voice is gentle but probing.
I manage a weak smile at her nickname: sunshine. “ I’m okay,” I reply, but I know she can see right through me.
She raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “ You can’t hide your true feelings for long, Aria . I know you well enough.”
I sigh, shoulders slumping. “ I don’t see any other way but to keep quiet and see how things play out. You know I can’t argue with Baba .”
Magda places a comforting hand on my arm. “ You’re strong, Aria . Remember that. You have a voice. Never dim it.”
Her words give me a small measure of comfort, and I nod. Though that’s easier said than done.
I continue downstairs. When I step into the kitchen, I spot Dimitri . He’s wearing a sharp suit, looking every bit the serious mafia man—except for the oversized headphones clamped over his ears. He’s engrossed in something on his phone while biting on a sandwich. The juxtaposition makes me chuckle softly.
He sees me and pulls one headphone off his ear. “ What’s up?”
“ You look ridiculous, you know that, right? All suited up with those huge things on,” I say, approaching the fridge.
He smirks and looks back down at his phone. “ A man needs his distractions. Keeps me sane.”
I shake my head, unable to hide my amusement.
He then notices my appearance. “ Oh , shit. You look terrible.”
I grab a bottle of water and a muffin. “ Gee , thanks.” I’d rather not tell him that I was crying, so I quickly change the subject. “ What are you even doing dressed like that?”
Dimitri grins mischievously. “ Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I roll my eyes. “ Fine , keep your secrets.” I take a bite of the baked goods and another sip of water. “ How’s it going with Baba now that you’re working with him?”
Dimitri shrugs, his expression shifting from amused to resigned. “ I don’t like it, but I’m trying to embrace it for the time being.” He pauses, taking off his headphones and setting them aside. “ I’ve come to realize he won’t let it go. He’s so focused on his work now, it’s everything that matters to him, it seems, and I have no interest in arguing with him anymore.”
I nod thoughtfully, taking another bite of my muffin. “ Do you find it weird that he’s so secretive now? He wasn’t like this before.”
Dimitri leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “ Yeah , it’s strange. It’s like he’s hiding something.”
I sigh. “ I wonder what happened to make him change so much.”
Dimitri’s eyes narrow as he thinks. “ Whatever it is, he’s not going to share it easily. We’ll have to keep our eyes and ears open if we want to find out.”
I nod in agreement. “ We’ll figure it out.”
He smiles at me, a softness in his eyes. “ Now , please get something more to eat. You look like you could use it.”
“ Fuck you,” I say with a laugh, appreciating the normalcy of the moment. Something that I’ve been lacking as of late. Despite the chaos around us, at least we have each other.
Then , my chest clenches as I think of what Andrew said: that he’d hurt my brother if I stepped out of line.
Dimitri chuckles and puts his headphones back on, diving back into whatever video has captured his attention, not noticing my change in mood.
After scrounging the kitchen for more food, I decide to go upstairs to find my father. I need to talk to him—maybe he’ll listen to me. Mama is out for the day, so I figure it’s a good time to pop into his office.
I approach his door, taking a deep breath before knocking, my knuckles tapping against the wood.
“ Come in,” his voice calls from the other side.
I push the door open and step inside, finding my baba buried in paperwork at his large mahogany desk. The room smells faintly of leather and his favorite cologne. He doesn’t look up, his pen scratching against the paper with a sense of urgency.
I try to ignore my nerves; all my conversations with him in these last months have felt different, calculated. Ever since he told me he’d be arranging my marriage, our easygoing father-daughter relationship has morphed into something more businesslike. It’s as if my existence now is only important because of the arrangement. The thought saddens me.
“ Do you need anything?” he asks, his tone brisk, eyes flicking up to meet mine before returning to his work.
I shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. “ No , I just wanted to talk.”
He pauses, his eyes softening for a moment as he sets his pen down and leans back in his chair. “ I don’t really have time to talk right now, Arioula .” His words are accompanied by a weary sigh.
The pang in my chest intensifies. I step closer, wrapping my arms around myself as if to ward off the growing distance between us. “ Are you mad at me?” I ask, my voice coming out unsteady, as if I’m five again, and I’ve just broken a precious vase.
He looks puzzled. “ Why would you think that?”
“ Because of me not wanting to marry Andrew .”
My father sighs again, shaking his head. “ No , I’m not mad at you. But it is your duty, your responsibility toward your family.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
My stomach sinks, even though I expected the response, the same one he’s given me every time we’ve spoken about this. But I can feel there’s something else he’s not telling me. Something more to all this.
“ I can’t do this, Baba . Andrew is not a good man. He —” I cut myself off, unsure of the consequences if I tell him the truth. “ I can’t swallow the thought of marrying a stranger.”
His brows furrow, the lines etched deep into his forehead. “ Andrew is an exceptional man and will be an asset to this family, Aria . The faster you realize it, the easier this will become.”
Tears swell up in my eyes as frustration washes over me. How can he not care about my wishes? How can he stand by and watch his own daughter drown in unhappiness?
I just then glimpse a side of my father I have never seen before—stubborn, uncompromising, and seemingly indifferent to my feelings. A sharp reminder of the power he holds over my life.
I can’t believe it. Growing up, I was undeniably a daddy’s girl. He was my hero, the one I turned to for comfort and guidance. But all of that seems to have vanished into thin air. He’s treating me as if I was just another business transaction, nothing more. The coldness in his eyes, the detachment in his voice—it all feels so foreign, so harsh.
I want to tell him what Andrew did, of his threats, but before I can respond, Baba picks up his pen again and gestures toward the door. “ I have a lot of work to do now, Aria . We’ll talk later.”
I nod, my throat tight with unspoken words. “ Okay .”
Leaving his office, I feel even shittier than when I entered, and I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever bridge the gap that has grown between us.