Page 6 of His Two Hidden Masks

“Now, go become a wife,” she said, patting my hand.

The church bells rang, marking the hour, and the quartet began to play Luna Mezzo al Mare, signaling the family to enter. Leo blew me a kiss and held out his arm for my mother. They walked down the aisle.

Roberto was already at the altar. Auntie Aurora and Uncle Lorenzo went next, their steps timed to the notes of the music.

My father moved beside me and held out his arm. Tall and lean, with cropped silver hair, he was the physical opposite of me and my mother. “Isabella, I am so proud of you,” he said, leaning down, his voice in my ear. “This is a wonderful match, wonderful for our family.”

“Yes, Papa,” I said. The music stopped. My heart beat so strongly in my chest, I feared everyone in the church could hear it. I was becoming a wife for the family, for the business.

The quartet played the Bridal Chorus, the doors opened, and we walked. On unsteady legs, I crossed the black-and-white tiles in my heels, all eyes on me.

I was grateful a veil covered my face. It made the procession easier. With my eyes focused on the cross above the altar, I didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the church. The aisle looked impossibly long.

As the music ended, my father and I reached the steps to the altar. To my right stood Roberto. To my left, my father, and Leo.

“Who gives this woman away today?” Father Dominic asked.

“Her mother and I do,” my father said.

The priest nodded at me, and my father took my hands and placed them in Roberto’s.

Through my veil, Roberto looked softer, his features muted by a web of white tulle. Still, I recognized the angular cut of his cheekbones, his strong jaw, and bright green eyes.

Roberto was tall and muscular. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair cropped short. He was only thirty-seven, but there was more salt than pepper.

Today, Roberto was clean shaven, which made him look boyish and unfamiliar. I focused on his eyes, hoping they would ground me. These were the eyes that charmed me during our first date, a day trip to Pisa. These were the eyes that asked me to be his wife as we sat across a candlelit table at Andiamo.

Roberto leaned toward me and smiled. “We are a perfect match, Bella,” he whispered. “Today our love will right a wrong.”

Right a wrong? What was he talking about? The same wave of dread from rehearsal settled in my belly. My thoughts spun in circles, questions with no answers filling my head.

Why didn’t Roberto say he loved me? Why didn’t he say he needed me, that he couldn’t imagine life without me?

I stood perfectly still, my face hidden by my veil, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. What was wrong with the air in this church? I couldn’t breathe.

“Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Isabella Carmen Uzano and Roberto Tomas Bianco. These two people…”

As Father Dominic droned on, I held Roberto’s hand, feeling dizzier with every passing moment. The wedding ceremony was in progress, and I couldn’t hear the words anymore.

There was a humming in my ears and a spinning feeling in my belly that made me feel unsteady on my feet. I can’t do this, my mind whispered, until I realized I was saying the words out loud.

Leo was the first to hear me, his voice like a finger snapping me out of a trance. “Bella?”

“I can’t,” I said.

“Bella?” Roberto said, his face strained by a smile. He squeezed my hand tighter, his eyes darting between me and the congregation. “Bella, I’m right here.”

I dropped his hand and lifted up my veil. There was a collective gasp from the guests. I spun around to face the pews of the packed church. In the front row, my mother stood on her feet, her face pale, my Auntie Aurora frozen beside her.

“I can’t do this,” I stuttered as my inside voice aligned with my outside voice. I was in my family’s church, standing on the altar, and everyone I knew in the world was watching me.

I took a step forward, stumbling on the stair. The congregation cried out in shock as I caught myself and stepped out of one of my ivory heels like Cinderella.

I picked up the shoe and took another awkward step back. In one hand I held my bridal shoe, the other gripping the heavy skirt of my wedding dress. I looked back at the altar one last time to see Roberto’s green eyes wide with shock.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I ran from the church and I never looked back.

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