Page 59 of Third Degree

“He’s here!” my cousin burst into the house, where the girls were getting ready.

I was dying to catch a glimpse of this mystery man. Was I destined to be with a young thug? Would he be covered in hair like a wild beast or as smooth as a hairless rat?

I attempted to peer out the window, where the ceremony was taking place, but my mother and aunts promptly shooed me away.

“It’s bad luck to see each other before the big day,” my aunt, who looked similar to my mother with long black hair and a short black midi dress, scolded me.

The coordinator entered the room, giving us a fifteen-minute warning. And then it hit me. Everything suddenly felt so… real. This was it, like for the rest of my life, unless somehow death came for him, then maybe I would have a reprieve.

My father stood there in his tux with his hands shoved in his pockets, assessing me. “You are going to make me a very happy man, Gianna.”

I stared at him, anger coursing through my veins. “Happy? Or rich?”

He laughed maniacally as we walked into the hallway. “Rich. You were always the smart one, Gianna. You knowla famigliaalways comes first.”

I did. I had suffered for years because of it.

Something inside of me snapped. Fuck this man. He was selling me off like I was a prized possession. It was fucking disgusting, and I hated that he used culture and tradition to cover it up.

“Ever since I was a kid,Father, you have never put me first. You were always worried about the business and what was best for the family. You let a man who threatened to kill me go. You let a man who held a gun to my head just leave. You may be my father, but we are not family.”

I ran down the hallway.

“Cousin, are you okay?” Rina looked at me with concern, extending her hand toward me. I forcefully pushed it away, shaking my head.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I blurted out, hastily making my way upstairs, my poofy dress trailing behind me. Slamming the bedroom door shut, I leaned against it, trying to steady my racing heart, fighting back against the stinging in my eyes.

I grabbed my phone, noticing missed calls from my friend but nothing from Elio.

This might be my last opportunity to reach out to him, depending on who my future husband would be and how much he cared about tracking me.

My hands trembled as I composed a text message.

Gianna:Hi. I know I’ve been avoiding you lately, and I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m getting married. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the pain in your eyes as I was ripped away from your embrace, so I decided to leave. I regret not saying goodbye, leaving you behind. I’m sorry that our love story didn’t have the ending we dreamed of. I never had the chance to tell you in person, but I want you to know how much I love you. How much I will always love you. I love you. And I am so sorry. Sorry that we never got to complete the final chapter of our story.

I pressed send, feeling the wetness at the bottom of my lashes and realizing the tears might soak into my dress. “Shit,” I muttered, not wanting to soil the dress or ruin the carefully applied makeup. Why did it matter so much to me?

The weight of regret and longing pressed heavily upon me as I stood there, tears streaming down my face.

It was an agonizing realization that I might never see Elio again. Our love story had abruptly been cut short. I replayed our memories in my mind, the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, and how he looked at me with unwavering affection.

How could I possibly let go of someone who had become the center of my world for twelve long years? How could he have just let me go after I walked out on him at the wedding?

Every fiber of my being yearned for one last embrace, one final conversation to convey the depth of my emotions.

But here I stood, trapped, forced into a wedding I didn’t want, destined to marry a stranger. The weight of my decision bore down on me, and the walls of the room felt like a suffocating prison, mocking the freedom I had willingly relinquished.

In that moment, I wished for a miracle, a twist of fate that would reunite Elio and me.

I longed for his voice, his touch, his understanding. The thought of a life without him felt like an unbearable sentence, and I couldn’t fathom how I would endure the emptiness that loomed ahead. The pain of missing him gnawed at my soul, leaving a void that nothing else could fill.

21

Elio

We had just pulled up to the house and were quickly escorted to the back by some of thezios(uncles) andzias(aunts) hastily ushering guests to the wedding.

I had to pause imagining Gianna growing up in this house. What it would have looked like to watch her run around the fields in the back. Immediately, my eyes searched for her greenhouse where I knew she spent hours of her days gardening.

---