𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 -
Intricate and witty, her life has twisted upside down after her father's past scarred his family. At the young age of twenty, Violet is informed that eight years ago, she was promised to marry a Mafia Don's son by h...
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The past month of dating Dominic felt like the first breath of fresh air after I had been drowning; which might seem like an exaggeration, but it truly wasn't. My experiences with him were like no other, and for the first time in my whole life, I felt wanted. Never for a second did he make me feel like I was less than his everything— and to be honest, it was a little bit scary.
I never thought I could move so fast with someone in such little time.
Today, on the first of August, Dominic and I stood beneath the shelter of an umbrella in front of the meticulously kept grave of his mother. The tombstone was clean with precisely cut edges, standing tall amidst the peaceful resting place. Fresh bouquets of flowers adorned the site, their vibrant hues were likely left by other visitors who had already paid their respects today.
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'In memory of Diana Vincenza D'Angelo Beloved Mother, Sister, and Friend April 25th, 1978 - August 1st, 2009'
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Dominic returned to my side with a quiet strength after resting a beautiful bouquet of familiar purple flowers, their intricate details catching the muted light. It was only after reading his mother's gravestone that I realized the significance of the large bow and arrow tattoo of his back.
Her name was Diana, and though I didn't pay too much attention in my Greek Mythology class, I was almost positive of her name's meaning.
I held Dominic's hand, its warmth a comforting anchor in the quiet cemetery. My cheek nestled against the soft fabric of his coat as I traced the lines of his forearm, a silent gesture of support. Amid the hushed whispers of nature, I mustered the courage to break the delicate silence.
"The flower on your desk that Antonio left after he visited— are those the same ones?" I asked, my voice a gentle breeze. My curiosity had spiked since that realization. Though I didn't remember vividly, I did recall the flower left on his desk being a similar shade of blue-purple; and the strange action must've held some sort of significance. Otherwise, why would Antonio leave a single flower for the son he couldn't care less about?
"That was a pansy. My mother used have all sorts of them in vases when I was younger, but I'm nearly positive she only did that to please my father. Now, he leaves them in attempt to torment me."
"But it doesn't?"
A bittersweet smile played on his lips. "Because they weren't her favourites," he confessed, his head shaking ever so slightly.
