Chapter Three
Alessia
They were at it again.
Mamma’s shrill voice sliced through the quiet and echoed in every corner of the house. Even from the farthest rooms, her anger rippled through the house. Papa’s responses were quieter, but the clatter of broken vases told me he was also involved.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the noise pressing down on me.
A bitter chuckle escaped before I could stop it.
It was ridiculous at this point. Each time they’d go at it, throwing their words and whatever was within reach until nothing was left to shatter.
After the chaos, mamma would start making dinner.
We’d all gather around the table and pretend our lives weren’t falling apart.
They would act as if the entire performance was normal, and expected me to do the same.
So while they formed this routine, I developed a habit of sneaking out.
I had packed a bag with a few clothes, ready to head to Carina’s.
I was lucky enough to have a friend who gave me shelter and a family that liked me.
Today was one of those days I was grateful to have her.
For a few hours at least, I could pretend I was a part of a stable family.
If it were up to me, I’d disappear from this life. Maybe then my parents would realize I wasn’t a piece of furniture caught in their crossfire. My absence would remind them I existed, that they had a daughter.
Around here, our family was the estate’s whispered tale, the neighbors’ favorite scandal. People pointed at us when they needed a bad example. I could see it in their eyes, how they watched us like we were a TV drama they couldn’t look away from.
Things weren’t always this way. My parents weren’t always so loud and hostile.
It started after my sixteenth birthday. I was sitting on the staircase when their first argument broke out.
Mamma was furious enough to want to leave with me, but Papa insisted I stay, telling her to go alone if she wanted.
She didn’t.
But their love broke apart, jagged shards ripping into everyone in reach. Though she stayed, I knew the fractures of that rift would only deepen.
Forcing the memory away, I focused on escaping.
The window in my bedroom had become my makeshift exit, a little portal out of the house and into the peaceful world.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I climbed through, my heart pounding in my ears as I hit the ground with a light thud.
I tiptoed, passing the garden with its overgrown shrubs and wilting flowers—a forgotten paradise, much like our family.
My steps slowed as I neared the lawn where Vivo was curled up, his eyes following me with a sad gaze. Poor dog. He endured their arguments too, always quiet, waiting for things to get better.
Sadly, nothing had changed. I pulled my hoodie over my head, trying to make myself smaller as I moved past neighbors on their porches and driveways, gossiping. I wanted nothing more than to disappear, to be invisible to the prying eyes that followed me like shadows.
Vivo let out a soft whine as I slipped past him, a sound so mournful, it bruised.
A taxi pulled up just in time, and I slid into the backseat, the cool leather of the seat greeting me like a silent refuge.
I sank back, grateful for the brief breath from the chaos.
Billie Eilish’s voice poured into my ears through my earphones, a somber yet comforting soundtrack for my escape.
The driver asked for my address, and I gave Carina’s address.
As the taxi sped down the street, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Marco, telling him I was going to Carina’s place. Seconds rolled by, and my thoughts drifted. My mind replayed the moments before everything changed.
What happened to the family we used to be? The one where laughter and warmth were as common as the smell of fresh bread baking in the kitchen? Where did it all go wrong?
The drive seemed to stretch on forever. My thoughts grew heavier with each passing block.
I could almost see the images of my parents as they once were.
They would laugh over a glass of wine, sharing romantic moments in the kitchen.
It felt like another life, like something that had been stolen from us.
As we drove past the neighborhood church, I almost asked the driver to stop so I could go in and pray for my parents.
I’d grown up near it but never stepped inside.
So I just stayed quiet, shut my eyes, and let the music calm me.
The car’s sudden stop jolted me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes to find we’d reached Carina’s house. I paid the driver, grabbed my bag, and walked up to the front door.
Isabella, Carina’s little sister, answered the door with her usual enthusiasm. She was grinning up at me, her wild curls bouncing with every step. Without hesitation, I reached out to ruffle her hair, but she ducked away with a mock scowl, batting my hand away.
“I’m not a baby,” she huffed, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.
I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension of the day loosen a little. “You’re not, but you’re still my favourite target,” I teased as I stepped inside, making my way upstairs to Carina’s room.
Her house had become my second home. I could walk through it blindfolded without bumping into anything. It was where I could breathe, where the noise of my life at home faded into the background.
I entered Carina’s room, a cozy space with soft pink walls and a stack of books piled high on the bedside table.
She sat on the bed, her laptop open in front of her, typing away at something with intense focus.
When she saw me, her eyes widened, and she closed her laptop, her expression shifting to concern.
“Again?” she asked.
Carina was the first to notice the cracks in my facade. I gave a half-hearted shrug, sinking on the bed beside her.
“Yep. Same old, same old.”
She frowned and reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should’ve called me to pick you up.”
“No. I want them to realise I’m gone,” I admitted, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
It was the truth. If I were gone long enough, they might realize I was more than an afterthought.
Carina rubbed my shoulder like she always did when words weren’t enough. The kind of comfort that didn’t need to be spoken. After a long pause, she said, her voice softer this time. “I’m sorry, Sia.”
I let out a shaky breath, wishing things were different. “I wish I could disappear, you know? Maybe then they would remember that I matter.”
Carina flopped back onto the bed beside me, hands tucked behind her head as we stared up at the ceiling.
“Unless you run away with Marco, there’s nowhere you can go, sweetheart,” she said. “But you have an interview on Monday?”
Oh yes, I could finally get a job and quit working at the cafe. After months of applying for several accounting jobs, I finally landed an interview. I groaned. “Great. Well, at least I’ve got that to keep me grounded.” I slapped her thigh playfully. “And now we can get down to business.”
She chuckled, sitting up to face me. “Business? What business?”
“Marco’s birthday dinner,” I said as nerves crept into my stomach. The thought of it still made my heart race. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m so overwhelmed.”
Her eyes danced with mischief, and she grinned. “Should we repeat the kissing lesson?”
I shot her a look of disbelief, though I couldn’t help but laugh. My face warmed. I couldn’t help but remember the ridiculous evening when Carina dragged me to the couch. She insisted I practice before this date. “No, Rina. I’m ready. I mean, I have to be, right?”
“You’re ready. Trust me.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around my neck, her face inches from mine. “Kissing isn’t the hard part. The tough part is everything that comes after. The first time can be painful.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Can we please not talk like we’re writing one of your steamy chapters?”
We both burst into laughter. Thank God for moments like this that made everything feel a little less heavy.
A knock at the door interrupted us. Isabella popped her head in, holding a package in one hand and the TV remote in the other.
She scrunched her face. Someone must have interrupted her in the middle of her favorite show.
She placed the package on my lap without a word, then turned and walked to the door.
“Hang on, what is this?” I asked, eyeing the package.
Isabella crossed her arms as she glanced back over her shoulder. “It’s a package. Duh.”
Carina frowned, glancing at me. “Who’s it from?”
Isabella sighed. “A tall guy in a suit came to the door and told me to give it to Alessia Romero.”
Carina and I exchanged a look, one of those shared glances that said everything. “What did I say about opening the door?” Carina yelled, but Isabella was already gone, leaving only her indignant footsteps behind.
The familiar flutter of excitement bloomed in my chest. I focused on the package. Marco often sent me little surprises like flowers, chocolates, and handwritten notes. It always made me feel like I was more than a girl caught in the middle of her parents’ mess.
Carina and I tore into the box. A stunning silk red dress sat inside, the kind I only dreamed of wearing. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and nerves. It was beautiful, and I couldn’t help but think about how perfect it would be for tonight.
A shiver ran down my spine as the possibilities of the night filled my mind. Maybe Marco was the right man. I could feel the anticipation building.
Carina held the dress up, examining it. “Are you seeing this? Carmen’s going to think you stole this if she sees you in it.”
The image of my boss’s face when she saw me wearing the dress was oddly amusing. I couldn’t stand Carmen, and the idea of her getting offended over it made the whole thing even more fun.
But as we continued digging through the box, I saw a set of red lingerie. My heart did some flips as I picked it up. Wasn’t this the exact set I saw at the lingerie shop?
I passed it to Carina. “This looks familiar.”
“So what?” She shrugged, brushing it off. “Marco is head over heels for you. This is just him shopping for his girl. Can’t you feel the love?”
The excitement crept back in. I had made the right choice in breaking up with Lucas. I looked at Carina, laughing, feeling like I was in one of her books—a heroine of a story where the future was uncertain, but filled with promise.
Carina reached deeper into the box and pulled out an envelope. “Oh, look—there’s a letter in here.”
I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.
It was so typical of Marco. He always sent notes along with his surprises.
I eagerly unfolded it, the anticipation almost overwhelming.
But as my eyes fell on the words, something cold ran through me.
The handwriting wasn’t Marco’s, and he never referred to me as ‘Miss Romero.’
A hint of panic crept in, but I forced it down. He may have asked someone to write it to add a bit of mystery. I was only supposed to meet him tonight, wasn’t I?
“Miss Romero, huh?” Carina teased.
“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile. “Guess my boyfriend’s keeping me on my toes.”
Still, something in that letter felt different—almost chilling.