Page 9 of Unspoken Ties

“Our turn,” he said, his voice devoid of any sentiment. He led me by the hand, his grip firm yet not uncomfortable.

As we stood before the justice of the peace, a man in his early sixties with kind eyes and a warm smile, I felt my stomach churn in nervous anticipation. He began to speak, reciting words that were familiar from countless films and stories. All the while, Ettore remained stiff and distant next to me.

“Do you, Ettore Moretti, take Hilaria Alto to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Ettore replied mechanically.

“And do you, Hilaria Alto, take Ettore Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

The room fell silent as I hesitated. Bile rose in my throat as I looked up at Ettore, his icy gaze never wavering from mine. The soft glow of the room suddenly seemed harsher as all eyes fell on me, waiting for an answer.

“I do,” I heard myself whisper. The words felt foreign on my tongue, a commitment that seemed to echo off the sterile walls of the room.

The world whirled by in a blur as we exchanged rings, all the colors and faces blending together into one hazy scene. But then, amidst the chaos, the judge’s voice cut through the fog with six clear words that brought me back to reality.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Oh my god. My first kiss was about to be in front of a room full of strangers. Would they be able to tell I hadn’t done it before? What if I missed and kissed his chin? Would Ettore hate it? A thousand questions ran through my mind in the span of fifteen seconds.

Not that Ettore would be the worst person in the world to kiss.The little voice in the back of my head said, and I promptly told it to shut up.

“Is that necessary?” Ettore asked the judge.

Somehow, his rejection hurt more than the potential embarrassment.

“Well, technically it’s not, but most couples-”

“Great,” Ettore said, interrupting him. “Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the door.

This wasn’t how I pictured my wedding, but for better or worse, I was now Mrs. Hilaria Moretti.

Chapter five

Ettore

“Time to go,” I said, walking back to the car with Liria.

“Where?”

“To your old house.”

As soon as I mentioned it, her ocean-blue eyes filled with emotion, mirroring a stormy sea. She avoided my gaze and stared down at her shoes, a wave of emotions crashing within her.

“I don’t know if I can,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

I understood. Her house was a trove of memories, both beautiful and devastating. It was the place where she had grown up, laughed, cried, loved and now, lost.

“Listen,” I said, somewhat awkwardly. “I’ll be there with you.” Consoling people and providing support wasn’t a strong suit of mine. She nodded, and the two of us finished our walk to the car in silence.

As I drove, I stole glances at her. Liria sat in the passenger seat, her gaze distant and thoughtful as she stared out of the window. Her eyes were no longer stormy; now they were as deepblue as the night sky before the stars exploded across it. She was lost in her own thoughts, presumably grappling with the enormity of what was to come.

The ride seemed to stretch on for an eternity before we pulled up in front of her old house - a brick mansion inside a gated community. It was just outside the city and tucked away from the hustle and bustle, just how Leone had liked it.

We moved towards it in a hushed stillness, the only sound our footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Although we were quiet, there was no tension between us. The silence felt comfortable and peaceful, like an unspoken understanding.

“I don’t have my-” she started, but I pulled out my key ring and opened the door for us.

She slightly opened her mouth, as if she wanted to ask where I got it from, but shook her head and followed me in. After getting ahold of her legal documents, she probably wasn’t shocked by anything at this point.

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