It had been a week since I arrived in Italy, and somehow, life felt oddly serene-like I was on vacation of some kind I didn’t sign up for. I missed my family fiercely, but I hadn’t yet summoned the courage to ask Judas to let me contact them. He wasn’t easy to approach, and even though he hadn’t explicitly forbidden it, something about his presence made me hesitate.
But today, I would ask.
I busied myself in the kitchen, helping Rara prepare lunch. She’d insisted I didn’t need to, but I couldn’t sit idle while she worked. Besides, I liked being near her. There was something comforting about her energy-gentle, kind, and warm, like a soothing balm to the cold atmosphere of the house.
“Stir that for me, darling,” Rara said, handing me a wooden spoon and gesturing toward a pot of simmering tomato sauce.
“Of course,” I replied with a smile, earning a laugh from her.
As we worked, we talked about little things-the weather, the villa, my adjustment to life here. But soon, the conversation took a more heartfelt turn.
“Did you always live here?” I asked, glancing at her as she chopped fresh basil.
“No,” she said, pausing for a moment. “I grew up… with my brothers and our… father raised us. My mother… died and I somehow… was brought here. You wouldn’t believe it, but I hated this house at some point.”
Her voice softened as she stared at the distance, and I noticed the faintest hint of sadness in her eyes.
“You must love it here now,” I said, trying to cheer her up.
She smiled faintly. “I do. This house has been my home for years. But my heart has always been in the work I do outside of it.”
“What kind of work?” I asked, curious.
Rara’s face lit up, and she placed the knife down, turning to me fully. “I run an orphanage in the city, and I’ve been working on a program to help women in difficult circumstances-victims of abuse, trafficking, or poverty. It’s been my dream to give them a chance to rebuild their lives, to give them hope.”
I blinked, stunned. Maybe I needed her help.
“That’s incredible,” I meant it. “You’re helping so many people. It must be so fulfilling.”
“It is,” she said, her smile was soft. “But it’s also hard. There are days when it feels like an uphill battle, especially when the world seems determined to knock these women down. But we keep fighting. Someone has to.”
I nodded. Before I could say more, the sound of footsteps interrupted us.
“Good morning,” Krystina said as she entered the kitchen, her voice was light but her smile wavering.
She was out today also.
“Morning, darling,” Rara greeted warmly. “You look lovely.”
Krystina smiled faintly but didn’t respond, her gaze darting around the room as if looking for something… or probably she didn’t want to end up colliding with Judas.
“I’ll go and wash up,” she said quickly, disappearing up the stairs to her room.
I followed her with my eyes, a knot forming in my stomach. Something was wrong, but I didn’t want to push her. Instead, I decided to bring her some tea and snacks, hoping it would open the door for conversation.
I hadn’t seen her much around the house. Sometimes she’d be doing School work she was co-executive of, or out.
I poured some tea in two cups and some snacks Rara baked earlier before following her.
I knocked gently on her door before stepping inside. Krystina was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her hands.
“I brought you some tea,” I said softly, placing the tray on the table beside her.
She looked up and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Seraphina. You didn’t have to.”
“It’s no trouble,” I said, sitting down beside her. “Are you alright? You seem… busy nowadays.”
She hesitated and I noticed her hands twisting in her lap. “I’m fine,” she said finally, but the uncertainty in her voice betrayed her. I knew that voice very well. Sometime it belonged to me. And I wonder if she was going through something dangerous.
“If there’s anything you want to talk about…” I offered gently, letting the sentence hang.
She shook her head with a weak smile. “It’s nothing. Really.”
For a moment, there was silence, and then, as if trying to change the subject she spoke, “Would you like to come shopping with me today? I need to pick up a few things for my wedding.”
“Wedding?” I blinked, caught off guard. Why didn’t I hear anything about this from anyone?
She nodded and her smile tightened as she held out her hand, showing me a delicate diamond ring which I never noticed or I was too occupied to see. “Yes. I’m engaged.”
“That’s wonderful,” I grinned widely feeling genuinely happy for her, though the unease in her voice didn’t escape me. “To who?”
Her fingers tensed, and she flinched ever so slightly before replying, “Massimo… Massimo Bianchi.”
I swallowed hard, the name settling like a stone in my chest. I’d eavesdropped enough about him to know he wasn’t a man you’d want to cross-or marry. He was the one who was on the phone with her that day.
I forced a smile, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. She looked away, and for a moment, I thought I saw fear flicker in her eyes.
Before I could say anything more, she stood abruptly. “I should get ready. Shall we leave in an hour?”
“Of course,” I said, watching her retreat to the bathroom.
I slowly stood up and looked at the purse she left on the bed.
She met him today also, didn’t she? But why? If he was her fiance then why was she so uncomfortable at mention of him? Did her parents force her to marry him? Or there was something else?
I didn’t know him, but I already hated him.
Throughout the way to my room, I kept thinking.
Should I ask Judas when he’d come back from the meeting?
When it was time to leave, I changed into something simple but elegant: a soft beige dress with a fitted waist and flowing skirt, paired with a cream cardigan and matching flats. I left my hair loose, letting it cascade over my shoulders. It felt nice to dress up, even if the reason for our outing felt heavier than it should.
And I was somehow excited to go out. It was my first time leaving the house. Should I ask him? Or tell him? He wouldn’t mind, would he? He was gentle with me these days, it wouldn’t mean he’d get angry if I left the house, right?
I shook my head. I was overthinking again. He wouldn’t mind, I knew.
I met Krystina on the stairs and she hooked her arm with mine.
We stepped out of the house and got into her car. And it was lavish.
She drove and played some Lana Del Rey songs. But I was just sneaking glances at her. I couldn’t shake the feeling that her engagement wasn’t as thrilling as it should be. And as much as I wanted to ask her more, I knew better than to press. For now, I would be there for her-and hope that, in time, she would trust me enough to share her truth.