My vision blurs, my head spins, and my throat closes. This is all too much. I don’t even know why the fuck I thought I deserved happiness when all I do is make the people around me miserable.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I clearly wasn’t. Because if I had been, this mistake wouldn’t have happened, and neither Lucio nor I would be in this situation. Before this, there might have been a chance for us to be together with the approval of his family, but now? There’s absolutely no way in hell. He will be made to choose: either me or them.
42
Princess
I’ve been pacing for hours.
Back and forth, down the long hallway lined with picture frames and antique furniture, the same stretch of polished marble that creaks beneath my bare feet even though it shouldn’t.
It’s almost like the house is groaning with me. With the weight of my thoughts. With the pressure of everything that’s unravelling inside me.
Outside, the sky hangs low and gray, like it’s waiting to drop the next disaster from its clouds. The lake in the distance is still, motionless like glass, like death. The air in here is thick and too quiet. Suffocating.
Lucio’s been gone for three days. And I’m losing my fucking mind.
I wrap my arms around myself tighter, even though it’s not cold. My skin prickles anyway, like something is watching me. Like the ghosts of this house—or maybe just the memories I’vecreated here in the dark—are crawling up my spine, whispering truths I’m not ready to hear.
He hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. He hasn’t come back. Nothing.
I don’t know if he’s still alive. I don’t know if I’m still his.
I pass the grand piano for the tenth time and pause, staring at the closed lid. It’s so pristine, so untouched, and it doesn’t belong in this house.
Nothing does. Nothing belongs here except silence and secrets.
My hand drifts down to the keys, and I press one. A low, hollow note echoes through the room. It sounds exactly like I feel.
I sit slowly, like I’m afraid the bench will disappear beneath me, and place both hands on the keys. I don’t know how to play. Not really. But I tap out a few soft notes, letting them fill the empty air.
They don’t sound like music. They sound like a scream muffled by distance. A cry no one hears.
God, I can’t breathe in here.
I stand again and stalk into the kitchen, opening cabinets even though I already know what’s inside. Bottled water. Crackers. Fancy cookies in tins. Nothing real. Nothing warm.
Just like this house.
I’ve never felt more hollow.
The only room that doesn’t feel like a tomb is the one Lucio told me to sleep in. It’s the only place I haven’t torn apart trying to find answers. I move there now, my feet dragging, my shoulders tight. I stare at the bed like it’s the last thing connecting me to sanity.
The sheets are rumpled. They still smell like him. Like his cologne. Like sex. Like betrayal.
I sit on the edge and let my head fall into my hands.
What does love mean if it destroys someone? Is it still love if it leaves you bleeding?
I close my eyes, pressing my palms against my forehead like I can hold myself together with sheer force.
I thought I understood what I was doing. I thought I could outsmart them all. I thought I could keep Lucio safe.
But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong.
I gave them the door. I left it open. I let the wolves in. And Lucio’s mother paid the price.