THE WEDDING

Morning light falls on Avelina’s face as she lays on the bed. The rain has since stopped but the sky outside was still grey.

The door opens as a maid walks in without knocking. She wore a black and white uniform and it was spotless. She walks closer to Avelina and whispers in her ears. “Signorina, You must prepare”

“Prepare for what?”

She does not say a word but instead lays a dress on the bed and slips out of the room before Avelina could say another word.

She soon gets up and took a bath, got dressed and came out of the room.

The Rossi mansion echo as guards stood at every turn. No one dares to meet her eyes.

The maid who brought her the dress leads her down a flight of stairs and into the dining room. Immediately she steps into the room all eyes falls on her.

Allesandro stands up to address his family.

“I have an announcement,” he says, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “The feud between the Rossi and Moretti families is over. I am marrying Avelina Moretti.”

Gasps. Mutters. Avelina feels every stare like a knife in her back. She doesn’t flinch, but her fists clench so tightly she feels her nails bite her palms.

“This is not a negotiation,” Allessandro continues. “I have made my decision already.”

She forces herself to meet his gaze across the room. She sees the danger there, but also something else she can’t name.

It doesn’t matter. She will find a way out. Even if it kills her.

She goes back to her room and slips into a white dress. This represents purity but to her it felt like a death sentence.

The church smells of lilies and candle smoke, but Avelina feels none of its sanctity. She stands in a white dress heavy with lace, the veil framing a face set in stone. Her heart is steady, not from calm, but from determination — she will survive this, and then she will escape.

Allessandro stands opposite her, an image of control. His black suit fits like it was made to intimidate. As if he was mourning. He turn his face and his gaze meets hers and she somehow forgets to breathe.

Father Tomas clears his throat. “Let us begin.”

Everywhere was silent. No extra guests and no music. Only the Rossi men lining the chapel in tailored suits, the other half of the pew with what’s left of the Moretti loyalists, their eyes sharp, their mouths tight. No one smiles and a priest who was ready to flee. His eyes rest on her with unnerving steadiness, a dangerous fascination that feels more like a challenge than affection.

Avelina stands beside Allesandro. Her knees feels weak but she forces herself to stand. The priest begins to read the words from his journal.

Avelina does not hear most of it as her mind drifts back to her father and his broken promises.

His eyes rest on her with unnerving steadiness, a dangerous fascination that feels more like a challenge than affection.

The priest speaks words she doesn’t hear.

“Do you, Allessandro Rossi, take Avelina Moretti…”

His answer is immediate. “I do.”

Her throat tightens as the question comes to her. “Do you, Avelina Moretti…”

Her lips barely move. “I do.”

The kiss is quick, mechanical, nothing more than a seal on a contract. Applause is muted, hesitant.

That evening, in the master bedroom of his estate, she stands by the window, still in the wedding dress, watching rain streak the glass. She refuses to look at the bed.

“You can relax,” his voice says from behind her.

She turns, expecting to see him undressing. Instead, he is pouring himself a drink, not even glancing at her.

“I won’t touch you tonight,” he says.

Her breath catches — not from relief, but from confusion. “Afraid I’ll stab you in your sleep?”

“Possibly,” he says, sipping his whiskey. “But also because I don’t take what isn’t freely given.”

She laughs coldly. “You married me without asking. Freely given doesn’t exist between us.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. “Believe what you want. But there’s more to your father’s death than you think.”

Her eyes flash. “You killed him in cold blood. That’s all I need to know.”

He sets the glass down. “One day, you’ll see the truth.”

“Don’t count on it.” She turns her back to him, vowing that if she can’t kill him, she’ll at least find a way to make him bleed inside like she does.

She sinks into the only chair in the room as the white dress flows down, her hand shaking. The ring shines bright on her finger, mocking her.

The rain has stopped and a thin ray of light comes through the window hitting the marble floor while avoiding Outside, the clouds begin to break.

A thin ray of light slips through the stained glass, landing on the marble floor beside me.

It doesn’t reach my face.

She thinks of her father again, of the night he died, of the promise he made: No Rossi will ever touch my daughter.

He was wrong.

The Rossi’s touch everything.

She presses her fingers against the ring until her finger hurts.

“I won’t cry. Not in this house, Not in his presence.” Avelina says under her breathe.

She stood up and walks towards the window. Watches as the light stretches over the city of Florence. Somewhere in between people lived freely. They loved and laughed how they wished but that was not the case for Avelina.

She presses her hand against the cold glass window. Her life was not ordinary anymore. Maybe it was never ordinary.

She turns toward her hand as her gaze falls on the ring again. glance down at the ring again.

It shines beautifully, cruelly—like the man who placed it there.

A marriage built on revenge, sealed with silence.

A cage disguised as peace.

I whisper to the empty room, “You may have won today, Allessandro Rossi. But this war isn’t over.”

The light fades. The first shadows of evening crawl across the walls.

And I know the truth I didn’t want to face:

The only way to survive him is to learn his world…

and one day, make it mine.