Page 16 of The Sound in Silence

I glance at the bed. A symbol for what should have happened but is now the dividing line between us.

I should feel only contentment, but instead, I’m perplexed with myself.

My mouth opens, and right when I think Imightactually be able to talk, the voice inside my mind creeps into my consciousness again.

Fear—

Death—

Silence—

It’s better to be silent and not witness what you’ve lost.

The bag at my feet has my phone and it’d be so easy to retrieve it and text him my question, but I don’t because my body doesn’t allow movement. All I can do is observe as Erico presses his lips together and nods, seemingly accepting the fact I won’t respond in any non-verbal method either.

“Make yourself at home. Go anywhere. Do anything, Ariella. Please don’t coop yourself up in this room. Before your bag was brought up, I had someone program Sebastian and Carlotta’s cell numbers into your phone so you can easily get a hold of them, or simply for conversation. They are both aware you will not speak with them and all my men have been instructed to give you space. Provided they obey, the only soldier you should be seeing over the next few days is Sebastian.” He stops, his gaze skirting the room and then finding me. His mouth opens. Shuts. Opens. Finally: “I’m headed right back to the plane. Have a good night, Ariella.”

Then he’s gone and the door is shut behind him.

He said not to coop myself up in here, but in that motion—the door shutting with his absence—it feels likehehas. A single pane of wood blocks me from him—from his escape. From this marriage.

Erico’s obviously following the declaration he made the other day and I respect that. This will be the simplest, most non-obligatory arranged marriage ever.

Yet, the blackness creeps over me. Over my vision, my mind…my heart, making me gutted. Hollow and alone.

More alone than normal.

Why did I volunteer for this? I don’t know—to findsomeonein this shitty life Mom dragged me and Della into. Maybe I thought Erico could be that person. Maybe that’s why as much as having sex out of obligation isn’t appealing, a small part of me hoped that tonight could have been the beginning of more.

My legs give out right as I make it to the window, and with my back against the pane, I slide to the floor, drawing my knees up.

I’m so stupid.

Tears form, the burning sensation so familiar, being they’re a regular occurrence. I’m the only woman in history crying about the freedom associated with an arranged marriage; yet, they continue to fall.

Because even when I force a man down the aisle, he wants nothing to do with me. Yesterday, in between Della’s last-minute ditch effort to change my mind, Caterina cut in with advice that still rings in my ears.

“Once, my sister told me to make Enzo into the prince I wanted. Do that with Erico. This arranged marriage isn’t the end. Itcanbe happy.”

Her advice lodged uselessly in my heart. Useless because Erico already made his stance known.

Still…maybe I want some happiness in this darkness. The shadows followed me since I was fourteen, always struggling to feel joyful. When my sister was cheery, mine was fake. For her, for Mom, and eventually, for everyone else. Stefano, Rozelyn, and Yasmine, when meeting them. The medical staff at the centre. The Corsettis when they took me in. Most likely assume that keeping my head down is a trauma response, but reality is, it’s my mind struggling to remain present and not to succumb.

No one will choose me. Not even my own husband.

The ring gets warm around my finger, as though the memory of earlier today finally returns. I curl my hand into a fist, feeling the gold and the weight of the jewels. A ring not even meant for me…

Scoffing, I rip it from my finger and toss it to my right, into the room’s corner. The overhead light catches on the diamond at the exact angle I’m taunted by the gleam, but I don’t care.

Erico doesn’t care. As long as I act like his wife outside these walls, the rest doesn’t matter. I’ve willingly chained myself to a man who’ll never give me a happy ending.

Masochism much. I did this to myself, and this is the price I’ll pay.

At least being away from Della, with an ocean around you and music to compose will keep you from following the dejection into the darkness forever.

With a heavy sigh, I wipe the tears away and reach for my bag, rooting around until finding my cell phone. A few messages sit waiting, all from Della. Demands to contact her as soon as I can. Questions about the flight, about the mansion, and mainly about Erico’s treatment.

What treatment? Does leaving count?

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