𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚

Chapter 20

Written 02-09-21

It's 2:00 in the morning and Cristiano still hasn't come home. Despite all the coffee I drank, I was slowly nodding off to sleep. I walk over to the window, and draw back the curtains. From here I can see the drive way perfectly clear. I just want to know if he's ok.

I kneel down, and rest my arms on the window sill. As I wait for a car to pull into the driveway, I can't help but think about his parents. Cristiano's mother was beautiful, he looked a lot like her. He didn't mention his father, ever. He seemed to favor his mother a lot more than his father. Similar to how I favored my father over my mother. I wonder who my kids will favor more?

I didn't even know his parents names. Although it was mandatory for me to know the names everyone in his family, I guess they didn't matter since they're dead.

Matteo and Caterina. Those were my parents names. I had mostly fond memories of my father. He'd pinch my cheeks, sit me on his lap, he always called me his bell'angelo. (Beautiful Angel)

But I remember he was always around other women. It wasn't until I was older that I realized those women were his mistresses. It drove my mother crazy. His cheating is probably what drove her to drink so much. She used to be so beautiful when I was little. But by the time she was killed, the alcohol made her grim and depressed. I always knew she resented me, even at a young age. I looked a lot like my father, that could be a reason. She was probably also jealous of all the attention I got from him.

I wonder what Cristiano's parents relationship was like. Was it like my parent's? Or did they have a happy marriage? Would Cristiano and I end up like my mother and father?

I start to get more and more drowsy. I rest my head on my arms, and doze off to sleep. I dream about my parents a lot, even though they've been dead for 10 years. I have more nightmares about my mother, more than my dad. Because I know my father loved me, and he would've done anything to keep me safe. But I didn't know how my mother felt about me. From the way she acted toward me, I thought she hated me. Most people would probably think, a parent couldn't hate their own child. But this was was the Mafia. Members would kill their own family just to get some more power. I just wanted closure with my mother, but that wasn't possible.

Suddenly, I'm woken up by a pair of arms wrapping around me. For a moment I'm alarmed, until I smell the faint scent of cigarette's. The feeling of his rough hands, lifting me up bridal style, and the way he breathes, I know it's Cristiano. I'm surprised he didn't just leave me here to sleep on the floor.

I open my eyes, and look up at him. He looks exhausted. Clearly the emergency, whatever it was, was causing him stress.

"Is everything ok?" I ask him groggily.

Cristiano carefully lays me on the bed.

"We'll talk about it in the morning." He says, then walks over to his side of the bed.

I can tell whatever it is, it's serious. As he takes off his shirt, he starts to cough violently. He seems a bit wheezy, and his coughing sounds coarse. It's probably from all the cigarettes he's been smoking. He had been smoking a lot lately, more than usual. I was worried, I didn't want him to get sick. But it wasn't my place to tell him what he should and shouldn't do, so I kept my mouth shut.

Eventually he stops coughing, and continues to undress. There's an awkward silence as he climbs into bed. I feel exhausted, but compelled to make some sort of conversation with him. I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head.

"What were your parents names?"

Cristiano looks at me in confusion. He almost looks angry, and for a second I regret saying anything. But his response surprises me.

"Marco and Eleonora." He says looking at me, then proceeds to pull the covers over him. I smile as he turns away on his side of the bed. I don't know why. Maybe it was because he had been honest with me. He let into to a part of his life, even though it was a small detail, it still meant something to me.

Eleonora. That was a pretty name. It was fitting for his mother. I felt a strange tinge of happiness. Despite the clear distance between him and I, he had shown that he cared. At least to some extent.

Deep down I knew the happiness wouldn't last. Tomorrow he would probably go back to his cruel attitude, and sleeping with Paola. Or any other woman he wanted. But I guess I would have to get used to appreciating the happy moments, and accepting the bad ones.

sorry! short chapter again! i promise the next few chapters will be longer. like, comment, and follow! 💜💜💜 also, please don't hesitate to message me any concerns that you have about the book or my writing!! all opinions are respected here!