Page 81 of Carnival Master

I grip my coffee cup tighter, the ceramic cool against my palms. “Did she ever talk about... about ending it?”

“No.” Nonna dabs at her eyes. “That’s what made it worse. She just... faded away, piece by piece. I watchedmy daughter disappear into nothing, and I couldn’t save her.”

“When you came to me about Paulie,” Nonna’s voice turns soft, “I was terrified. The same look in your eyes—I saw your mother in you that day.”

I squeeze her hand. “But?”

“But you...” She smiles through her tears. “You fought back. Your mother just accepted her fate. Like a flower wilting in the shade, she stopped reaching for the sun. But you?” Nonna cups my cheek. “You broke free. You found your own path.”

“I didn’t want to end up like her.” My voice catches. “Sometimes, I’d find old photos of her before she married Dad. She looked so alive, so full of joy.”

“She was.” Nonna nods. “But when your grandfather arranged the marriage, she just... gave up. No resistance, no tears. She walked down that aisle like a ghost.” She takes a shaky breath. “But you, my Sofia—you have her spark but your own strength. When you told me about not wanting to marry Paulie, I saw that same despair in your eyes. But underneath? Steel. Pure steel.”

Sasha takes my other hand. “Your mom would be proud of you, you know? For choosing your own happiness.”

“She would,” Nonna agrees. “Your mother couldn’t find the courage to fight, but you’ve shown more bravery than any of us expected.”

Tears stream down my face as I throw my arms around Nonna, breathing in her familiar scent of lavender and fresh bread. Her small frame trembles against mine as she holds me tight.

“I’ll come back,” I whisper. “Every time we’re near Dawsbury, I’ll stay with you. We can cook together, tend your garden?—”

“Shh, tesoro.” She strokes my hair like she did when I was little. “I know you will. The carnival moves, but your heart knows the way home.”

Sasha joins our embrace, her own tears falling. “And I’ll keep an eye on Nonna when you’re away. Make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

“You’re both acting like I’m dying.” I try to laugh through my tears. “I’m just traveling with the carnival. Ty already promised we’d come through here regularly.”

Nonna cups my face in her weathered hands. “Your mother never had this choice. To come and go as she pleased. To love freely.” She wipes my tears with her thumbs. “You’ll always have a home here, Sofia. Whether it’s for a night or a month or a year.”

“I know.” I squeeze her hands. “And you’ll always be my Nonna. Distance won’t change that.”

“Promise you’ll call?” Sasha’s voice breaks. “Even from the road?”

“Every week.” I pull her into another hug. “And you can visit us at the carnival whenever you want. Ty already said you’re both welcome anytime.”

Nonna presses something into my palm—her silver St. Christopher medal. “For safe travels, tesoro.”

Fresh tears spill as I clutch the precious necklace. “Nonna, I can’t take this?—”

“You can and you will.” She closes my fingers around it. “It protected me through many journeys in life and belonged to my mother. Now it’s your turn.”

My heart aches as I say my last goodbyes. I clutch Nonna’s St. Christopher medal as I walk to my car, the weight of it grounding me in this moment of change. The afternoon sun catches on the silver, reminding me of all the times I’d seen it gleaming at Nonna’s throat while she cooked or gardened.

My chest aches with the bittersweet pain of goodbye, but underneath burns something brighter—hope. I’m choosing my own path for the first time in my life. No arranged marriages, no suffocating expectations, no living in fear of disappointing my father.

Leaving Nonna and Sasha behind hurts, but they’ll always be my connection to home. Unlike my mother, who was trapped in a marriage that slowly killed her spirit, I got to write my own story. I will love freely, travel widely, and return whenever I choose.

The medal warms against my palm as I slip it over my head. Its weight settles against my chest like a promise—not just of safe travels, but of the courage to forge my own path. My mother never had this chance, but I do. And I’m going to grab it with both hands.

38

TYSON

One week later…

We’re in our next town, Burlington. Sofia still feels sad about leaving her grandmother and best friend behind in Dawsbury. It’s after hours as I lead her through the darkened carnival, the rides silent and still. Her hand feels small in mine as we walk past the shuttered game stalls.

“Where are you taking me?” Sofia asks, her eyes darting around the empty carnival as we approach my trailer.

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