Chapter Eight
Safia
The Unthinkable
“Talk to me, Safia.”
Hearing my real name come so effortlessly from his mouth made me feel I could finally be seen by him for who I truly was. However, recalling the reason everyone knew me as Lanay Sanders and not Safia Kent threatened to bury me with grief.
My breaths began to come in thunderous waves.
“It’s so much. And it’s so painful to talk about.”
The sincere look on Marcello’s face made my heart ache. “You can tell me anything. I will never judge you. And you can always trust me. That you can believe,” he assured.
I sat up further in the bed, clutching the blanket to my chest. My hands trembled. A wave of nausea washed over me. My composure threatened to break. The air seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. It felt like the enormity of his bedroom had become small and was closing in on itself.
Sensing my unease, Marcello placed a warm and steady hand on mine. “Breathe, Safia. Breathe. Take your time. I’m here for you,” he urged gently, his voice a soothing balm against the rising panic within me.
But I couldn’t take my time. I couldn’t wait.
If I paused, even for a moment, I might never find the courage to continue. “I have to tell you everything now, before I lose the nerve,” I insisted, my words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “What I’m about to say is why my uncle is so protective of me. You have to promise me, Marcello, that you won’t tell a soul.”
“I won’t say anything,” he agreed.
“No! This is serious and my very life depends on it. So, you have to promise me,” I pled desperately.
His eyes widened with concern, and he nodded. “You have my word. If you want what you confide in me to stay between us, it will be between us,” he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “So, like I said my name isn’t Lanay Sanders. It’s Safia Kent,” I began, watching as the reality of my words sank in. “And for the past three years, my uncle and I have been in protective custody.”
Marcello’s dark, thick brow furrowed in confusion. “Protective custody? Why are you in protective custody?”
A shiver ran through me as I remembered that awful day, the explosion that had shattered my world. “My family was killed in a car bombing,” I said, each word feeling like a dagger drawn from an old wound. “Someone blew up our car, killing my parents and my sister. The police felt I could be the next target, so they moved me from Alabama to Georgia to keep me safe. My uncle didn’t want me to be placed into protective custody alone, so he joined me here.”
Marcello’s face went pale, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench. “Someone killed your family?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. The veins on his temple throbbed, his usual calm shattered by rage and disbelief.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice breaking. “They didn’t know who did it or why, but they feared whoever it was might come after me too. That’s why I had to leave everything behind, my home, my friends, even my name.”
His eyes displayed a range of emotions—fury, sorrow, and a fierce protectiveness. “Do they have any idea who did it?” he asked, his voice shaking with barely contained anger.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s why I’m still in custody. They couldn’t find the person responsible, and until they do, I’m not safe.”
Marcello pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if he could shield me from the world’s dangers. “I’m so sorry, Safia,” he murmured into my hair.
“I know, and I have to deal with the pain of losing them everyday,” I said, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.
“You’ve been carrying this around for three years. It must be torture.”
I nodded. “It has been.”
“Now, you have me,” Marcello assured. “I will always be here for you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I continued to fight them back, not wanting to lose control. “I didn’t want to lie to you anymore, not after tonight. But I can’t risk you getting involved. It’s too dangerous.”
He cupped my face in his hands. “Thanks for letting me in on a part of you that must be very painful, and for being honest with me. But going forward, we’re in this together. I promise you, Safia, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“I believe you,” I whispered, a rogue tear slipping down my cheek. “But we have to be careful. No one else can know.”
“I will always be careful with you.” He wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb. His eyes searched mine as he took my hand in his. “Have the police given you any updates on where they are with your case?”
I shook my head, feeling a fresh wave of frustration wash over me. “No, they don’t keep me updated. Every time I call, they just tell me it’s an open investigation. They won’t give me any more insight or details.”
Marcello’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening slightly on my hand. “That’s unacceptable,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. “You deserve to know what’s happening. You shouldn’t be kept in the dark like this.”
“They always say they can’t compromise the investigation,” I replied, the helplessness I felt every time I spoke to them bubbling to the surface. “It’s like they’ve forgotten about me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s about to change,” he growled. “Leave it up to me, Safia. I’ll make sure you get the answers you deserve. My family has resources and connections. We’ll find out what they’re not telling you.”
A flicker of hope ignited in my chest before it deflated. “I don’t want you to get involved in something dangerous because of me. Some people believe my father was involved with a mob, but I don’t know what to believe.”
He cupped my face in his hands. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, and I will do it without exposing you,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “But you have to know you’re not alone in this anymore. And I won’t rest until we have the answers you deserve.”
For a moment, we just sat there thinking. The room, which was filled with passionate murmurs just minutes ago, now seemed to be filled with echoes of my past.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was already ten thirty. The reality of my life outside this room, outside of Marcello”s embrace, was creeping back in. Soon, my uncle would expect me to be pulling into our driveway.
Marcello’s arms tightened around me, as if he sensed my anxiety. “Hey,” he said softly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “We still have a few minutes. Let’s just be here, together. Just us.”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips.
In this moment, I was Safia Kent, and I was with the man I loved, trusting him with the truth that had upended my life for the past three years. It felt like a small rebellion against the life that had been thrust upon me, a brief but powerful reclaiming of my identity.
Marcello’s fingers traced gentle patterns on my back, his touch soothing. “Tell me more about you,” he said. “The real you.”
I took a deep breath, letting the memories flood back. “Everything I have shared with you about my likes, dislikes, and dreams are all the truth. But before my parents died, I used to live in Auburn,” I began. “We had a house on a quiet street, with a big oak tree in the front yard. My dad used to hang a tire swing from it every summer. I can still remember our laughter as my sister and I took turns swinging as high as we could.”
Marcello listened intently, his eyes never leaving mine. It was as if he was trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this piece of me that I was sharing with him.
“My mom loved to bake,” I continued, a wistful smile playing on my lips. “Our house always smelled like fresh bread or cookies. She used to say that if you could bake, you could always make someone’s day a little brighter.”
I could see the questions in Marcello’s eyes, but he stayed silent, letting me unravel my story at my own pace.
“And my dad,” I said, my voice growing softer. “He was my hero. He worked so hard, seemed to always have his laptop attached to his fingers, but he also made time for us. For family dinners, for helping with homework, for just sitting on the porch and watching the sunset. I never felt safer than when I was with him.”
A lump formed in my throat as I spoke, and I swallowed hard, willing myself to continue. “Then, one day, it all changed. We were going to the beach. It was supposed to be a three-day weekend family vacation. I remember the excitement, the way my mom helped us pack our bags and the way my sister giggled with glee over going to the beach again. And then...”
The words caught in my throat. The memory of the explosion, the fire, the smoke, all crashed down on me.
Marcello squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“It happened so fast,” I whispered. “One minute we were making a stop for Dad to meet a client, and the next… there was nothing but chaos. I was the only one who survived.”
Marcello pulled me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Safia,” he murmured. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
“It was a nightmare,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “And after that, everything was a blur. The hospital, police, the questions, being moved from place to place. And then finally, ending up here, as Lanay.”
He held me tightly. “But you’re not alone anymore,” he said quietly. “You have me now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time some of the tears were of relief and others of gratitude. “Thank you for reassuring me that I have you now,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“You got me, and I got you.” Marcello’s lips found mine again, a tender, lingering kiss that seemed to say more than words ever could. It was a promise, a reassurance, and a declaration all at once.
As we pulled apart, I realized that the fear and uncertainty that had gripped me for so long were beginning to loosen their hold. I felt more hopeful than I had in years.
“I have to get ready to go home,” I said reluctantly, glancing at the clock again. “My uncle will be waiting.”
Marcello’s arms tightened around me in silent protest. “I wish you could stay,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
But duty called, and the clock was relentless. I slipped out of his embrace, gathering my scattered clothes from the floor and pulling them on. The reality of my situation crept back in as I dressed, each piece of clothing a reminder of the double life I had to lead.
When I was ready, I turned back to see Marcello pulling his pants on and zipping them up. As he dressed, he watched me, his eyes filled with a hint of a plot developing.
“Call your uncle and tell him you”re spending the night with me,” he said.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Uncle James was more than just family; he was my protector, the one who had sacrificed everything to keep me safe after everything fell apart. I couldn”t just shatter his trust and risk the fallout that would surely follow.
“I can”t do that,” I managed to say. “He will flip out. He won”t understand.”
Marcello”s expression softened briefly, his hand reaching out to gently brush against mine. “Safia, after what you just shared with me, I don”t want to let you go,” he confessed quietly. “Not now, not ever.”
I didn’t know if he was referring to our shared intimacy or my secret, but his words tugged at my heart all the same, stirring emotions I had long buried under layers of caution and survival instincts.
“Marcello, no,” I murmured, shaking my head slightly. “I won”t do that. We”ve been all each other has had for the past three years. He left his entire life behind—quit his job, left all of his family and friends—to be with me so that I wouldn”t have to go into witness protection alone. I can’t just defy him, and he will never be understanding enough to allow me to spend the night with you.”
I saw the disappointment flicker in Marcello”s eyes. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his long, dark hair. “I get it, Safia,” he finally said, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just... I wish things were different.”
“I do too,” I admitted softly. “And when I graduate next year, I will be able to make choices of my own. But right now, I have to go.”
Marcello stepped forward, gently cupping my face in his hands. “Look at me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away another tear that had slipped down my cheek. “You and your uncle can come and live with us. You will be protected here.”
I shook my head, the thought of imposing on Marcello and his family was overwhelming.
“I know your family has money, but I would never expect you to take care of me and my uncle. We can take care of ourselves. My father had a good job, and he left enough money for us to be comfortable. We are fine.”
Marcello traced the line of my jaw. “That’s good,” he acknowledged. “But I’m not suggesting that you need me financially. I’m saying that we can take care of you with our resources. Our estate has armed guards from corner to corner. At least twenty men are here to make sure no one tries anything, and if they do, the problems they will face will be immeasurable.”
I shrugged. “Still, I have to decline your offer.”
“Safia.”
“No,” I replied firmly. “I didn’t tell you about my past so that you would feel obligated to protect me,” I said, my voice quivering. “I just felt like you should know who I really am after… you know.” My cheeks flushed, remembering the intimacy we had shared.
Marcello”s eyes softened, his grip on my shoulders firm but gentle. “It would destroy me if something happened to you. You have to allow me to protect you.”
His words pierced through my heart. This man, who only just learned my real name, was now embracing my past and still choosing to stand by me.
His commitment was staggering.
“I have to go,” I stated with finality.
Thankfully, Marcello stopped his protest and said, “Then, let’s go.”
I had hoped revealing myself to him was a step in the right direction of ending the nightmare that had been my reality for far too long. It wouldn’t bring my family back, but a tiny part of me felt that living in my truth with the man I loved would gain me back a piece of sanity.