Page 4 of The Sound in Silence

Being a shadow is great.

It’s what I’ve always been, and what I continue to be. What I appreciate, even. No one looks twice at a shadow when it’s blending into the background. Opposite of all the attention Della once received. She’s the eldest, smart and beautiful. When we were younger, guys were quickly sucked into her vortex. Back then, I wasn’t salty about it because there were times where the thought of having to share so much of myself with another person made me ill.

Which is why there’s a benefit to being shoved into the backdrop and ignored.

It's easier to exist in the dark than shine in the light.

The amusing part, in high school, Della despised the attention, and was fine being single and focused on her school work and friendships. Yet, between the two of us, she was the first to be wed. I mean, considering the past few years, it makes complete sense, which is why I’m pleased for my sister.

But it’s ironic. Because while she didn’t want the attention from guys, I did. To a point. I dreamed of going off to university, meeting my happily-ever-after, starting a life together, and having kids eventually. I fantasized about discovering myself.

In some ways, I suppose, the dream of emerging from the ocean of a lifetime of disappointment to discovering the surface and what life on land has to offer is still tempting.

Moving into the Corsetti mansion after Della got married to the mafia family’s second-in-command made my life better and worse. Being away from the medical centre and home with Della is great, but it also brought me into the Corsetti family’s fold and all their drama.

With the return of Nico’s sister, Aurora, much of the attention has been on her, allowing me to hide again. Able to stick to the background unless Della drags me out or Nico’s mother, Caterina, insists on ‘getting to know me better.’ By now, she must realize I’m not interesting, not like Della. I don’t leap in front of bullets to save her son. I simplyexist.

When they do leave me be, I wallow in bed when the darkness becomes too overpowering, or when exiting the bedroom assigned to me gets too overwhelming to consider.

The very bedroom I’m currently sitting in, staring at the space that’s never quite felt like mine. Depending how Nico’s current conversation goes, this might not be my room for much longer.

Sending Nico the message I had surprised everyone, including myself. Aurora created a problem by falling in love with her bodyguard, and I solved it by volunteering for an arranged marriage, to the man Aurora was supposed to marry.

Why? Who knows. A method to feel something perhaps. To get away from Della, because as pleasant as it is to be with her again, she’s suffocating. While I’m content to remain in my bedroom, lights off, and concentrate on breathing and remaining semi-sane, she’s trying to drag me into her light.

It’s not wanted, or required.

Maybe it’s a way to find the happily-ever-after I always dreamed of, and watched, in a single accident, get robbed from me? Locked beneath Nico and Della’s protection, I’ll never meet anyone. And really, who’d want to get to know the traumatized, mute woman? This way, getting into an arranged marriage means shackling myself to a man.

Fuck, I’m pathetic.

According to Nico, Erico Rossi, the underboss to the New YorkFamiglia, is as ruthless as they come. Earlier today, Nico brought me into his office for a serious conversation and explained what my offer truly means. Moving to New York, becoming a wife, and requiring to survive in a world I wasn’t born into, but rather, forced into. First by Mom’s marriage to Stefano De Falco and then by Della, when she willingly stuck around. I suppose, by me too when I agreed to live here. But was there truly a choice?

Perhaps volunteering to wed Erico Rossi my way of thanking the Corsettis for saving my sister and me from a worser fate? One Mom found herself paying. Everyone here has been kind since we moved in, and they’ve been understanding of my limitations. I’d miss them by leaving.

But I’m drowning.

Della believes my life will worsen amongst theFamiglia. Maybe, but maybe not. Perhaps they’re the land I’ve been seeking.

Erico and I initially met by accident. Hiding during Della’s engagement party, from the noise and bustle of the guests, he found me studying a painting. I’d snuck away because watching my sister celebrate becoming a wife got too overwhelming. She looked flawless striding through the ballroom on Nico’s arm. Her head was held high, she donned a dress that was made for her, and while terrified of messing up in front of others, she made it through.

I was proud of her, but it also reminded me of everything I don’t and will never have.

The first time I met Nico, when he visited me in the medical centre for information about our stepfather, I recognized the good in him, despite the criminal life he controls. Even then, his care for my sister shone, but at their engagement party, it was stifling. No man would look at me like he does her, not with my current difficulties. Her sunlight was bursting from her, making the shadows of my darkness even blacker. Consuming me until I slipped out undetected.

When I heard his soft steps approaching me in the hallway I hid in; I knew it was a guy because the oncoming sound didn’t have the same pierce of a woman’s heel. I assumed Nico, searching for me at my sister’s request, but instead, it was the very man I saw being introduced to Aurora.

Erico Rossi from the New York mob family who was slated to be her fiancé.

He was every bit classically handsome up close as he was afar. Night-black hair that was styled neatly, but it only made me curious what it looked like free and unruly. Eyes so dark that stared at me with a burning question in his gaze.

Who are you?

I’d heard it as though he spoke aloud. He stopped beside me and introduced himself. Asked my name, how I was enjoying the party, and if I was okay.

If I wasokay.

No stranger has ever asked me such a thing, not unless they came donning a lab coat and stethoscope too. For the first time ever, I was silent, stunned, in a manner having nothing to do with my mutism.

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