19

MILLIE
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the room, I anxiously awaited Gio’s return. Nearly five hours had slipped by since he had left, a span of time that had witnessed my own transformation. I had discarded my initial outfit in favor of a skirt that swayed gently with each step and a delicate, sleeveless blouse that seemed to float around me. Though I had done my best to conceal the traces of tears, a faint redness still clung to my eyes, a testament to the emotional storm that had recently consumed me. The art of makeup could only do so much in masking the turmoil that lay beneath the surface.
As the front door creaked open, signaling Gio’s arrival, my heart skipped a beat. His presence filled the room, his eyes scanning the scene before him. They lingered upon my face, fixating on the subtle evidence of my tears, before glancing at the photograph of my family that stood on the nightstand. A bittersweet moment hung in the air, a silent exchange of unspoken words and shared sentiments.
“It’s been a tough day,” I offered softly, breaking the silence. “I thought… I thought it might help to wear something different.”
He met my gaze, weariness etched onto his features, and managed a faint smile. “You look beautiful.”
Our conversation flowed, cautious yet tender. I ventured to inquire about his meeting, but his response was a subtle evasion, a plea to avoid the topic. Instead, he spoke of hunger, and his outstretched hand invited me to join him on a journey beyond the walls of our home.
Together, we embarked on this silent expedition, our words suspended in the air like unspoken promises. The journey in his car was marked by an unusual tension, and I found myself uncertain whether conversation was expected or if the silence was to be our mutual companion. My own emotional exhaustion begged for respite, and I welcomed the reprieve that silence offered.
At a halt, as the traffic light bathed us in its crimson glow, he turned his gaze towards me, his eyes filled with an unexpected warmth. “You really do look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you,” I responded, the corners of my lips curling upward in a genuine smile.
We found ourselves within the confines of a gated parking area, vehicles stacked neatly atop one another. Emerging from the car, we ventured into a street bustling with life and adorned with a colorful array of dining establishments, each promising a taste of a different corner of the world. A Korean eatery captured his attention, and with a courteous gesture, he ushered me inside.
The sight that met my eyes was both vibrant and overwhelming. The narrow space was alive with chatter, the fragrant aromas of diverse cuisines intermingling in the air. Tables, seemingly placed in close camaraderie, were adorned with delectable offerings. A waiter, spotting Gio, guided us towards the rear of the bustling space, where the last available table awaited us.
My eyes caught the attention of the neighboring diners, their gazes fixed upon Gio with a mixture of curiosity and awe. His presence commanded attention, and I wondered if they were privy to his identity or simply drawn by his magnetic aura.
Seated across from him, our table became a realm of unspoken truths. His tall frame seemed to adapt gracefully to the chair, the neighboring patron obligingly adjusting their seating to accommodate his stature. Did they recognize him? Was their hospitality born of familiarity or mere politeness?
Our exchange continued, words wrapped in the ambiance of the restaurant. The waiter departed with our drink orders, leaving us with menus that offered a tantalizing array of choices. In this intimate setting, I dared to question his selection of an Asian restaurant, considering the intricate web of his world.
He met my quizzical expression with a knowing look, and his lips curled into a gentle smile. “This place is different. Independent.”
Questions danced at the tip of my tongue, wondering about the connections and implications, but our words were tempered by the presence of others. The couple beside us regarded me with a mixture of intrigue and bewilderment, our conversation an enigma to their ears.
A wry chuckle escaped me. “Are there many independent places left in this city?”
His reply was laced with a hint of amusement. “A few, and we’re working on something, negotiating.”
My skepticism peeked through, a silent laughter exchanged between us. The complexities of his world were far-reaching and shadowed, yet here we were, two souls seeking refuge in the midst of bustling life.
His finger pointed to a particular spot on the menu, drawing my attention. “You should try the marinated silk tofu and the bulgogi beef. They’re exceptional.”
A raised eyebrow accompanied my surprise. “You eat tofu?”
The nonchalant shrug he offered spoke of a broader palate than I had imagined. “When it’s prepared like this, yes.”
I shook my head in disbelief, the whole situation feeling like an alternate reality. “This is just too surreal,” I thought to myself. Sitting across from Gio at the restaurant, I struggled to grasp the reality of it all. “Just order whatever you think is best,” I told him, still processing the peculiar turn of events. “I’m good with anything except liver though.”
His response caught me off guard, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I appreciate women who enjoy more than just salads,” he remarked, his words resonating in the air between us.
As the waiter came back to take our orders, I found myself grappling with the unfamiliar chopsticks in my hand. It was clear I was out of my element, attempting to decipher the optimal way to wield them.
Gio’s teasing voice cut through my concentration, his amusement evident. “You’ve never used chopsticks before?” he quipped, his tone almost taunting. Was he making fun of me?
A bitter undertone laced my voice as I replied, “My parents always took us to their favorite Italian restaurant, and I wasn’t exactly given much freedom to explore on my own.” The memories of limitations from the past resurfaced, bitterness tainting my words.
His response held an unexpected promise. “Now you have the freedom to go wherever you desire.”
“Alone?” I questioned, skepticism shading my words.
Gio’s voice softened as he leaned in, his words a confidential secret. “By yourself, or with Dario, or with me. And even Valerio, when Dario’s tied up.”
It was a reality check that snapped me back to the present. Of course, there was always a catch.
But then Gio seemed willing to guide me, to let me into a realm of normalcy that felt oddly heartwarming. He picked up his own chopsticks, demonstrating their use with a practiced finesse. I followed suit, attempting to mimic his grip. After a series of clumsy attempts, I finally managed to manipulate the chopsticks without dropping them. Our orders arrived, and I soon discovered that gripping and maneuvering food with these sticks was far more challenging than anticipated.
Amusement danced in Gio’s eyes as he observed my struggles, and a playful comment escaped his lips. I blushed at my own lack of proficiency, needing three tries just to bring a piece of tofu to my mouth.
His remark about New York girls brought a smile to my lips, even amidst my ongoing battle with the chopsticks. “I guess this method keeps them slim.”
A genuinely flattering statement followed, catching me off guard. “But you’re more beautiful than all of them,” Gio’s words held a sincerity that left me momentarily speechless. I scrutinized his face, attempting to decipher the truth behind his words, but as always, his expression remained enigmatic. I allowed my gaze to linger on his eyes, captivated by their unique depth, the dark ring around the gray adding to their intrigue. They weren’t cold right now, unlike the distant facade I had often witnessed.
Suddenly, Gio seized a piece of marinated beef and extended it toward me. I blinked in surprise, my eyebrows shooting up. His expression mirrored my astonishment, yet there was a challenge in his eyes. Intrigued, I leaned forward, taking the beef between my lips using the chopsticks, a thrill running through me as our fingers brushed briefly. The taste of the bulgogi beef burst on my palate, and I couldn’t help but savor it, aware of Gio’s intense gaze fixed on me.
“Delicious,” I managed to utter, a genuine smile gracing my lips. In an unexpected turn, Gio now picked up a piece of tofu and held it out to me. I eagerly accepted, realizing that this shared moment was far more enjoyable than the frustrating battle with the chopsticks.
Amidst this unconventional meal, Gio had granted me a glimpse of his ordinary side, a side I hadn’t anticipated. It was an act of intimacy, a moment of connection that sparked hope within me. Whether intentional or not, Gio had revealed a side of himself that left me feeling optimistic, and for that, I couldn’t help but feel grateful.