A DATE
I t’s been three days since I met my fiancé, and he hasn’t reached out.
I thought he might have regretted his decision, until I walked downstairs and saw Mum holding a box wrapped in peculiar paper.
Her smile was the brightest I’d seen in a long time.
“Guess who sent you this!” she said.
I had to gather all my strength to not roll my eyes at her.
After breakfast, a shower, and getting dressed, I finally sit on my bed, my damp hair clinging to my back. I let out a sigh, staring at the present.
Carefully, I peel away the tape, not wanting to rip the paper. It’s the first time I’ve received something like this, and I’d like to keep it.
When I open the box, the contents steal my breath.
Inside, there’s a white summer dress adorned with light blue flowers intertwined like delicate vines. On top of the fabric lies a folded note:
“I will pick you up at 5:00 pm. I hope you feel comfortable in this.
—Dante
P.S. You don’t need makeup.”
I pat my cheeks, my heart is racing as if I’ve just run a marathon. It must be pure anxiety. There’s no other reason for me to feel this way.
Beneath the dress lies a handmade wool cardigan. My excitement takes over, and I try it on over the clothes I’m already wearing. The wide sleeves billow softly, and when I stand, it falls to my waist. It’s open-fronted, adorned with heart-shaped buttons, all in white.
A smile escapes me.
When Declan and I were engaged, he used to send me dresses like the ones my father always chose for me. They left me feeling exposed, vulnerable. But this dress covers me just fine, and if I don’t feel safe enough, I have the cardigan.
I hide everything when someone knocks on the door. My breath catches, but it’s just Mum. I exhale and sink back onto the bed.
“What was it?” she whispers.
“Clothes. He wants to take me on a date today.”
Her face lights up. Her happiness catches me off guard. Dante may not be my ideal partner—especially since this is just an arrangement—but he does know how to cheer people up. “Do you need me to do your makeup? Or maybe help you find some shoes? I might even have a pair you could borrow—”
“I can do it by myself, Mum. But thanks.”
Her smile falters. She presses a kiss to my forehead, wraps her arms around me, and then steps away. “I’ll make ya a light lunch. And don’t worry if you don’t want to come home early—I’ll make sure yer father doesn’t bother.”
She shuts the door before I can tell her I won’t be out long, or that I’ll never fall for any insinuations from him. Honestly, I wouldn’t even accept this date if Dante weren’t my fiancé.
He might kidnap me. He might not take me to dinner at all but instead drive me straight to his place. He might suggest we stay in the back seat of his car. He might lash out if I refuse to be more intimate with him. He might force me to.
A shiver crawls up my spine, and I force myself to swallow the growing lump in my throat. If someone raped me again, I don’t think I could survive it.
I’ve never kissed anyone or been with anyone because I wanted to.
My firsts—and only—experiences were brutal, violent.
I saw things I can’t explain, things I’ve never spoken about.
They did things to me that I’ve forgotten, though the memories creep back whenever something triggers them, and I must go through it over and over again.
I’m terrified because I don’t know if Dante has those tendencies. I don’t know if he’s anything like Roger, the man who bought me.
I don’t want him to be like them.
Especially since this is the first time in three years I’ve stepped out of the house with a complete stranger.
“I thought you’d wear the dress I got you.”
Oh no. Is he going to hit me because I didn’t? Shout at me? Maybe not here, in my house, but later? I don’t want to leave now.
“I—” I clear my throat. “I didn’t trust the weather, so I thought this was a better option.”
His gaze drops to my black boots, then lingers on my tight jeans and oversized shirt. If I’d worn the dress, he could easily touch my skin. At least, with this, I’d have time to stop him.
His soft smile puzzles me.
“You kept the sweater.”
I grip the sleeves, glance down at them, and nod.
“It’s cosy.”
“I’m glad you like it; my mom made it.”
Oh, God.
“She doesn’t want it back? I mean… she doesn’t know me, and I’m definitely not ideal daughter-in-law material, and…”
“She made it for you, ragnetta .” He reaches out, clasping his hand over mine.
I freeze. His mother gave me a present. The dress must be from her too. No man would choose gifts like these. If she hadn’t been involved, the box would have held something like a hideously revealing lingerie set.
He guides me to his car, opens the passenger door, and gestures for me to get in.
Put up your walls. Switch off your body. Just listen to everything he says. Do not piss him off.
I repeat it to myself twice before sliding into the seat, my stomach twisting into tighter knots.
Dante closes the door, and as he walks to the driver’s side, I fumble with the cardigan buttons, fastening them like armour. My hair becomes a shield as I let it fall across my face. If he tries anything, I don’t want to see him.
“You were right. The dress wasn’t the best idea,” he says as he gets in. “Did you like it, though? I can change it if not. I didn’t know if—”
“It’s nice,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Thank you.”
He sighs and starts the car. I close my eyes.
Please make it quick.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.” My throat tightens, and nausea churns in my stomach.
Silence settles between us, heavy and awkward. It’s one thing to wander the garden with him, but climbing into his car, letting him take me to God-knows-where, feels entirely different.
If I disappear, my father won’t care. My mother won’t have the power to do much about it either.
If that’s the case, I’d just beg him to have mercy and kill me once he’s done. I don’t want to stay alive if I must endure that torture again.
His hand brushes my thigh, and every muscle in my body tenses. He pulls away immediately.
I knew it. He’s the same as—
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I wanted to take your hand, but I’m nervous. I—”
“Nervous?”
He takes my hand before I can pull away. His palm is sweaty, trembling slightly. I look at him. His face is flushed, his mask of confidence cracking. His jaw tightens as he clears his throat and looks back at the road.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Well, mission failed.
“You don’t.” One lie won’t kill me.
I give his hand a gentle squeeze, lean my head against the window, and close my eyes.
“I thought we were going to get dinner.”
Dante smiles. “You weren’t hungry, so I thought you might like this instead.”
Before I can respond, he kneels in front of me to swap my boots for bowling shoes. Heat floods my cheeks, and my heart pounds as if trying to escape my chest.
“I can do this by myself,” I manage, though my voice sounds strained.
“I know, but I want to do it for you.”
Okay, I just forgot how to breathe.
He removes my boots with such deliberate care that it feels almost exaggerated, but I’ve never been touched this gently before. I kind of like it.
“You like them tight or loose?” he asks, sliding my foot into the shoe.
“Tight.” God, why does my voice sound like that?
He ties the laces securely, though not quite as tightly as I prefer, and then moves to the other foot. Once finished, he stays there, resting his forearms on my knees. He looks up at me, his dazzling smile making it impossible to look away.
“Have you played before?”
I’ve never even been out on my own.
“I’ve seen movies. Sometimes they play,” I lie.
He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll leave the lighter balls for you.”
“Are they heavy?”
Laughing, he stands and extends his hand to me. I take it hesitantly. “Some of them are, but the small ones are as light as a feather.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What if I want to use the big balls?”
Never in my twenty-one years did I think I’d see a man blush twice in less than twenty-four hours.
I try to ignore the muffled giggles around us, but then the full weight of what I just said hits me.
Shit.
“Just don’t let them drop.”
His ears are red as he turns away, and I follow him like a lost chick, unsure of what to do or where to go.
These bloody shoes are so flat that it’s uncomfortable to stand in them.
As he notices me trailing behind, he pauses, pulling a few bills from his wallet and handing them to me.
“Could you go grab two bottles of water?”
“G-grab?”
He points to a vending machine in the far corner of the room. I’ve always wanted to use one.
I take the bills from him and inhale a deep breath. I must walk past a group of men, two families, and some girls who came here together.
I can do this… Any second.
I take another deep breath, hold it, and step forward. The girls don’t even notice me; they’re too busy giggling over their game. I glance back, but Dante’s nowhere in sight. I guess I’ll find him when I get the wa—
I bump into someone. As I turn around, a bearded giant is scowling at me.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry, I—”
The man’s expression softens into a smile as he steps back. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention either,” he says before walking away.
He. Leaves.
Relief floods through me, accompanied by a wave of pride.
I can do this.
I keep walking and reach the vending machine. I slide the bills into the slot, enter the code for the water, and watch with a small smile as the bottles drop.
This is the most freedom I’ve had since I got out of there .
Before, I was always surrounded by guards, and the only time I had the courage—and permission—to go alone, they took me.
Afterward, I wasn’t allowed to set foot on the front street—nor did I want to.
The only places I ever went after the incident were hospital visits and the events my father forced me to attend, always with someone beside me who did the talking for me.