Page 19 of Unspoken Ties

I had to keep it together. There would be so many people that would see me in misery; it would be so embarrassing if I started to cry in front of them.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up from the air mattress, the material protesting beneath me. I could still taste the bitterness of loss in the early morning air, a lingering specter of grief that clung to everything like a second skin.

“For what it’s worth,” Ettore began, slowly moving towards the kitchen situated next to the living room. “I know how you feel.”

I tilted my head. Ettore had never brought up his personal life before. I knew his father was dead, and I think his mother lived in New Jersey with her second husband. But these were all things I learned second-hand.

We didn’t talk much after that. The silence wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was better than forced conversation. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, its rhythmic sound serving as a grim reminder of the day ahead.

Eventually, we stood at the door, ready to leave. We were both dressed in all black attire; Ettore in a suit and I wore a dress that just touched my knees. I realized it was the same dress I had worn for our last family photos. The material felt heavy in my hands, stirring memories that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet. I quickly shook off the feeling and focused on getting ready to leave.

We arrived at the church, and I realized how off my perception of time was. I couldn’t tell if the car ride had taken five minutes or two hours. Everything seemed to blur together. It got evenmore foggy as people arrived. We said hello and thanked them for coming, and before I knew it, the service was starting.

The priest’s voice was a never-ending hum in the background as my thoughts drifted away. I fought to keep the lump in my throat from growing too big, not wanting to show any weakness during this funeral. But deep down, I knew I was already on the verge of tears.

Finally, the service ended. The somber expressions and solemn words from those who had not yet offered their sympathies washed over me like a wave, and I mechanically replied with thanks to each one.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I said to Ettore.

I didn’t. I just needed to get away from the crowd. It felt as though I was going to be consumed by all the people around me.

“Ok,” he responded. He studied my face before I turned to leave the room, a silent understanding passing between us.

The cool air in the bathroom was a welcome distraction from the stuffy air in the congregation hall. Hearing the door swing shut behind me, I pressed my palms against my eyes to keep my tears at bay.

I splashed water on my face and looked up into the mirror. My reflection glared back at me: dark circles under stained glass eyes that were usually so full of life and now only held a dull pain. Even so, it was me. A part of me that I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. The grief and change had painted over the familiar canvas of my face, leaving harsh lines and the beginnings of hollowed out cheeks. Still, I willed myself to meet my gaze in the mirror.

With a loud creak, the door swung open once more, revealing Dillon’s short figure. His expression was etched with anger, his brows furrowed and his usually calm demeanor replaced with a stormy intensity. He strode into the restroom, his footsteps heavy and purposeful against the tiled floor. The surrounding airseemed to vibrate with tension as he made his way towards me, his eyes fixed on mine with an unyielding glare.

“Y-you’re, you’re not supposed to be in here,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Well, we need to have a little chat, and we can’t do that in front of yourhusband,” he sneered as he emphasized the word.

“I don’t want to,” I tried to step around him to leave, but he pushed me backwards. I stumbled backwards, but managed to keep my balance and not fall to the floor.

“L-leave me alone,” I whimpered, stepping backwards as he entered my personal bubble.

“How dare you end our engagement? Do you know how it made me look? What I had to gain by marrying you?”

I continued to step backwards, trying to escape his presence and the menace in his voice. But Dillon was quicker, catching my wrist in a vice-like grip.

“End it,” he said.

My blood ran cold. Being married to Ettore hadn’t been perfect, but in this moment, I knew it was better than being married to Dillon.

“No,” I said. It was the most firm and confident thing I had said to Dillon.

His grip tightened, and I winced as his fingers dug into my skin. “I think you misunderstood me,” he said, leaning in closer until his face was just inches away from mine. His breath smelled of coffee and mint, a nauseating combination that made my stomach churn. “I wasn’t asking.”

“I like Ettore,” I responded with as much courage as I could muster.

Dillon’s eyes narrowed, and tightening his grip, he pushed me back into the accessible stall. I tried fighting him, but for someone so out of shape, he was surprisingly strong. My stomach sank. I was cooked.

In a blink of the eye, Dillon’s body was slammed to the ground. The sharp thud of the impact reverberated through the tiled room, bouncing off the walls and sending shivers down my spine. I looked up from his body and saw Ettore hovering above him, his hands clenched into fists. With his cat-like stealth, I hadn’t even heard him enter the bathroom.

“It’s very unfortunate that you touched my wife.” He picked Dillon up by the collar and dragged him through the bathroom.

“Wait, wait!” Dillon said, fear running through his voice. “I’m sorry! We can work this out a different way.”

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