2. Enzo #2
“What? That I wouldn’t be invited to my brother’s wedding?”
“You walked out when you were eighteen. You haven’t spoken to them since.”
I like that she doesn’t dance around it. Everyone else pretends. Everyone else acts like my estrangement from the Vitales is some minor misunderstanding, something that will blow over eventually. She just states it like the fact it is.
“You’re right,” I say. “But Rafael sent an invitation. And I was bored.”
“Bored.” She says it flatly, like she’s testing the word. “You came to your brother’s wedding because you were bored.”
“I thought it might be entertaining.” I smile at her. “I was right.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or something sharper.
“I’m glad my disaster of a day is amusing to you.”
“Disaster seems strong. You’re married to one of the wealthiest men in the city. You’re a Vitale now. Some people would kill for that.”
“Some people weren’t traded like cattle two hours ago.”
The words come out bitter, and I see her catch herself. Like she didn’t mean to say that much. Like she’s been holding it in and it slipped out before she could stop it.
“Fair enough,” I say.
She pushes off from the wall, straightening her shoulders. She’s trying to compose herself, trying to put the mask back on. I’ve seen her do it before, at parties years ago, that moment where she tucks everything away and becomes pleasant and blank and forgettable.
“I should go,” she says. “My father told me to change.”
“Your father told you to leave so the adults could finish dividing you up in peace.”
Her jaw tightens. She was in there for every word of it, same as me. She knows exactly what they think she’s worth.
“I don’t think you’d want to hear all about family drama anyway,” she says.
“On the contrary.” I step closer, cutting off her path to the hallway.
“I find it fascinating. Viviana disappears in the middle of the night. Fernando panics and shoves you into her dress. My father throws a tantrum because he got the wrong daughter. And your new husband can’t tell the difference between you and your sister and doesn’t see why he should. ”
Her face goes tight. I’m only saying back the things she just had to stand there and swallow, and hearing them out loud from someone else is clearly worse. I probably shouldn’t keep going. I keep going anyway.
“I should go,” she says again, but she doesn’t move.
I reach out and take a strand of her hair between my fingers. Slowly. Giving her time to pull away.
She doesn’t.
It’s darker than Viviana’s hair. Wavier. It curls slightly around my finger as I lift it.
“Let me give you some advice, Ana.”
“It’s Adriana.”
“It’s been Ana since you were seventeen.”
“I’ve corrected you a hundred times.”
“And I’ve ignored you a hundred times.” I bring the strand of hair to my lips, watching her eyes widen. “Some things don’t change.”
Her breath catches. Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice.
“What advice?” she asks, and her voice is quieter now.
I let the strand fall.
“Get out,” I say. “As soon as you can. This family will eat you alive, and Rafael won’t lift a finger to stop it. He doesn’t care about you. He just admitted he can’t tell the difference between you and your sister. You’re nothing to him but a warm body and a Costa signature on a contract.”
“I can’t just leave. I just got married.”
“Viviana left. She figured out how to do it. You can too.”
“Viviana didn’t have…” She stops herself.
“Didn’t have what?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
I study her face. There’s something there, something she’s not saying. A reason she stayed when her sister ran. A chain she can’t or won’t break.
“Let me know when you decide to follow my footsteps and get away,” I say. “I’m very good at escaping this family. I could give you pointers.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Maybe I like the idea of both Costa daughters abandoning Rafael at the altar. One before the wedding, one after. It would be poetic.”
“That’s not a real reason.”
No, it’s not.
The real reason is standing in front of me with tired eyes and a dress that doesn’t fit. It’s that I’ve been thinking about her more than I should have for years now, and that watching her marry my brother felt like something being stolen from me. Even though I have no right to feel that way.
But I’m not going to say that. Not now. Probably not ever.
“Does it matter?” I ask. “The offer stands. When it falls apart, and it will, come find me.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I know my brother. I know my family.” I step back, giving her space to leave. “And I know that you don’t belong with them.”
She stares at me for a long moment. I can’t read her expression. Then she steps around me and walks down the hallway, her too-tight dress rustling with every step.
I watch her go.
I should leave. I’ve made my appearance, caused the appropriate amount of discomfort just by existing. There’s no reason to stay. The reception will be boring. Forced smiles and stilted toasts and everyone pretending this isn’t a complete disaster.
But I don’t leave.
I stand in that corridor and I can’t stop replaying it. The way she looked at me. Her breath catching when I touched her hair. That line about correcting me a hundred times, said like she remembers every single one of those conversations as clearly as I do.
And underneath all of it, the picture I can’t shake: her walking down that aisle like she was going to her own execution while my brother stood there deciding one sister or the other made no difference, while my father called her mousy, called her nobody, waved her off like she was nothing.
They’re wrong about her. Always have been. To them she’s Viviana’s shadow, the lesser daughter, the quiet one who fades into the background, and not one of them sees the sharp mind behind those watchful eyes or the fire she keeps banked so low everybody assumes it went out years ago.
She’ll come find me.
Not today. Probably not for a while, not until everything falls apart the way I told her it would, not until Rafael shows her exactly how little she means to him and this family makes it clear she’ll never be more than a stand-in for the bride they actually wanted.
But she’ll come.
I push off from the wall and head for the exit. I’ve had enough of this wedding. Enough of my father’s cold presence in the next room, enough of my mother’s practiced indifference, enough of Rafael’s casual cruelty dressed up as nonchalance.
I leave before I do something satisfying and stupid, like going back into that room and telling my father exactly what I think of him, like finding Rafael and explaining what happens to men who don’t appreciate what they have.
But I meant what I said.
She’ll come find me.
It’s just a matter of time.