Chapter 5
Cristiano
She’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m still on my knees, my hands empty, my chest caving in on itself.
She’s gone.
The words echo through me, hollow and impossible. I stare at the door like it might open again. Hoping the last ten minutes were a nightmare I’m about to wake from.
She doesn’t come back.
A sound tears out of me, raw, animalistic, and broken. I double over, pressing my forehead to the floor, my fingers clawing at the carpet. The pain is everywhere. In my chest, in my throat, in my bones. My heart has been ripped out of me, and I’m drowning in despair.
Don’t ever come near me again.
Her voice. So quiet. So final. Like I was already dead to her.
I am dead. I have to be, because this can’t be what living feels like.
I don’t know how long I stay like that, curled on the floor of my bedroom. Minutes. Hours. The light outside the window fades from gray to black, and I don’t move. Every breath is agony. Every heartbeat is a reminder that I’m alive and still existing in a world where Mina hates me.
Mina hates me.
The thought is a knife, and I turn it over and over, driving it deeper each time.
She looked at me like I was a monster, and maybe I am. Maybe the monster has always been inside me, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the worst moment to reveal itself.
I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars, trying to push down the howl building in my chest. I want to scream. I want to tear this room apart until there’s nothing left but splinters and shards.
But what’s the point? Nothing I destroy will bring her back. Nothing I do will make her look at me the way she used to, with warmth and trust.
What’s the point of existing in a world where Mina Santoro hates me?
I push myself up from the floor, my limbs heavy and aching, and my reflection stares back at me from the mirror across the room. Red-rimmed eyes, hollow cheeks, hair tangled from where I clutched at it.
I feel like a corpse.
But I’m not dead yet.
If I can talk to Mina, I can explain that what happened tonight wasn’t me. I just panicked. I love her too much, and the thought of losing her made me crazy.
I wipe my face with trembling hands and move toward the door.
The hallway is dim and silent. Most of the staff have gone home for the night, and my parents are probably in the east wing, far from here.
I head toward the stairs. Mina’s room is at the top of the house, a tiny space beneath the eaves that I’ve never been inside but have imagined a thousand times. I’ll knock on her door. I’ll beg if I have to. I’ll get on my knees and plead until she forgives me.
I’m halfway down the corridor when I see a figure coming toward me.
It’s my mother. She’s wearing a silk robe over her nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders. She must be heading to the kitchen, or the library, or wherever she goes when she can’t sleep.
Our eyes meet, and the color drains from her face.
Her hand comes up to clutch the collar of her robe, her knuckles white. She takes a step backward, her eyes darting past me as she looks for an escape route.
“What did you say to her?” My words come out flat and controlled. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.
Mom flinches away from me. “What are you talking about?”
“Mina.” I take a step toward her, and she takes another step back. “What did you say to her to make her hate me?”
“The housekeeper’s daughter? I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Don’t lie to me.” I can feel the rage coiling beneath my skin, cold and deadly. “She said she talked to you about me. What did you tell her?”
My mother’s face crumbles. “Cristiano, please.”
I raise my voice to a shout. “What did you tell her about me?”
“Nothing! I didn’t—” She presses a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “She just said you were lonely. I didn’t know what to say. I was upset. I may have said some things—”
“What things?” She flinches at the ice in my voice.
“I don’t remember exactly.”
Mom has poisoned Mina against me. This is all her fault. The rage surges, ice-cold, and for a moment I want to—
Mom is cowering against the wall, her whole body trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’s looking at me the way Mina looked at me tonight.
Like I’m a monster.
Like I’m going to hurt her.
If I charge up to Mina’s room, wild-eyed and desperate, demanding that she listen, I’ll only prove that I’m dangerous and uncontrollable. Just like my father.
I take a breath. Then another. I let the rage drain away, leaving something cold and calculating in its place.
When I speak again, my voice is softer. Gentler. “I’m sorry.”
My mother blinks, confusion flickering through her fear. “What?”
“I’m sorry for frightening you.” I force my shoulders to relax, my hands to unclench. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’ve had a hard evening, but that’s no excuse.”
She stares at me, clearly unsure whether this is a trick.
I can do it. I can be so strong for Mina.
“Whatever happened between me and Mina is my fault. Not yours. I shouldn’t have blamed you.”
I watch her face carefully. Looking for the shift. The softening. Mom’s fear doesn’t disappear entirely, but it eases. Her grip on her robe loosens. Her breathing slows.
“Cristiano,” she says softly. “What’s going on with you and the housekeeper’s daughter? You know that nothing can happen. Your father would be so angry.”
“It’s over,” I say, forcing the words out. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore. I’ll respect that.”
Mom’s face floods with relief.
I hate it. I want to cut out my own tongue for the words I just spoke, but I keep my expression neutral.
“All right, Cristiano. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Mom hesitates, still watching me warily. Then, slowly, she moves past me, keeping close to the wall, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.
I don’t move. I just watch her go with a calmness I don’t feel. When she disappears around the corner, I let out a slow breath.
I don’t let the rage return or the grief swallow me whole. Instead, I stand very still in the darkened hallway and think.
Mom forgave me. I’m not entirely sure she was sincere, but she accepted my apology, and maybe in time, she’ll believe that I’m different.
That’s what I need to do with Mina.
Tonight I scared her too badly. If I go to her now, I’ll only make things worse. But maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.
I’ll show Mina I’ve changed. I’ll be strong enough to control myself, and earn her love. I’ll prove that what happened tonight was an aberration, not who I really am.
I’ll be patient. I’ll be perfect. I’ll be everything she wants me to be.
And eventually she’ll come back to me.
Because my feelings for her aren’t wrong. They’re not twisted or sick or dangerous. I love Mina. I love her more than anyone has ever loved anyone, and love like that doesn’t just disappear.
I just have to be better. Smarter. More controlled.
I turn and walk back to my room, my steps steady, my mind clear.
I’ll win Mina back.
No matter what.