Page 68 of Dark Mafia Bride

“What?” I laugh as she grabs my hand, dragging me toward the kitchen, where Nonna’s at the stove, stirring a pot of her famous tomato sauce.

“Well, okay, he isn’t exactly my boyfriend yet,” she corrects, a grin spreading across her face, “but Iknowhe’s going to ask me at the homecoming dance. He already asked me to be his date...”

“Whoa, slow down there,” I chuckle as we step into the dining room. I lean over to give Mamma a kiss on the forehead, noticing the faint lines of exhaustion etched into her face. Her tired smile tugs at my heart as she sits at the head of the table.

“Don’t lean on her too much,” Nonna scolds from across the room, wagging a finger at me. “The doctor said no stress for her joints, and you’re hovering like a bad habit.”

I pull back immediately, guilt creeping in. “Sorry, Mamma,” I mumble, though she waves it off with a soft laugh.

“So, who’s this mystery guy we’re talking about?” I ask, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Kelvin!” Giulia exclaims, rolling her eyes as if I should’ve known.

“Oh, you meantheKelvin?” I tease, raising an eyebrow as I settle into a seat beside Mamma. “Your forever crush?”

Giulia huffs, her cheeks turning pink, and I can’t help but laugh, feeling right at home with my family’s quirks and warmth surrounding me.

“Stop teasing your sister,” Mamma says gently, though I notice the way her hands flex against the table, stiff and slow. The rheumatoid arthritis is always worse after a long day, and she shouldn’t even be sitting here—but Mamma insists on being part of every family moment, no matter what.

“Are you staying the night? Please say yes!” Giulia pleads, her eyes wide with hope.

“Giulia,” Nonna interjects with a sharp tone, “Mira has plenty to worry about already. She’s got her husband now, and your mamma’s surgery is only days away. The doctor said she needs rest, not late-night chatter!”

“Nonna,” I protest softly, though the mention of Mamma’s upcoming surgery twists my stomach. “It’s okay. I’ll stay after dinner and follow you guys for the surgery tomorrow.”

Mamma reaches out, her hand brushing mine lightly. “I’m fine,cara. You don’t have to worry so much.”

But Idoworry. The looming surgery, the medication schedule, the strict dietary restrictions—all of it is like a constant drumbeat in the back of my mind. No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, it’s impossible not to think about it.

Thankfully I have Guilia to always make me forget how depressing it can be to an adult sometimes.

“Yay…Now let’s talk about me,” she starts, clapping her hands. “You can help me pick out a dress! I’ve got a list of options, but I need your fashion expertise.”

Dinner is a whirlwind of chatter and laughter. It’s the happiest I’ve felt in weeks. Later that night, Giulia and I curl up in my old bed, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. This...this is home. Not the cold, unwelcoming Greco mansion with its stony stares and harsh whispers, or the bedroom where I can never fully relax, knowing Ettore—my husband, who I’m supposed to feel nothing for—is right next to me every night.

This is peace. And right now, it’s exactly what I need after the week I’ve had.

Eventually, I drift off to sleep. But sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up to the smell of smoke.

My heart pounds as I sit up, blinking in the darkness. I immediately shake Giulia awake.

“Wake up, Giulia!” I say, urgency in my voice. She stirs, mumbling, then her eyes snap open as she notices the thick smoke seeping in from under the door.

“Mira?” she whispers, her voice laced with fear.

“We need to get out, now.” I jump out of bed, pulling her with me.

Giulia and I rush out of the room as my heart pounds, hoping Mamma and Nonna are safe.

The hallway is filled with thick, acrid smoke, and the heat hits us like a wall as we step out of the room. I’m about to head toward Nonna and Mamma’s shared room when I hear a cough somewhere ahead of us. I exhale a short breath of relief when I hear Nonna’s faint voice calling our names amidst fits of coughing.

“Nonna,” I shout, voice breaking as I grip Giulia’s hand tightly.

“Mira,” Nonna’s voice calls out, faint and strained with coughs. Relief floods through me, but my panic quickly returns.

We find Nonna struggling to breathe in the living room. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I shout, supporting her weight. “Giulia, open the door—the fire hasn’t reached there yet.”

Giulia races to the door, shoving it open as I guide Nonna outside. She tries to speak, but it’s lost in a series of coughs. As we step onto the porch, I see our neighbors gathering, their faces etched with concern. But then a horrible realization hits me—I haven’t seen Mamma.

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