The Don's Unsent Letters

I collapsed onto the pile of letters, tears splashing across the papers, smudging the ink, yet I could still recognize the handwriting.

It belonged to Lorenzo Bartoli, my husband.

His every word was soaked with tenderness.

[My dearest Sofia, I'm going to propose to Vittoria tomorrow.

[I know it's selfish of me. I know it's unfair to you, but Vittoria… She's too fragile. In this dog-eat-dog world, she can't survive. She needs me.

[You, on the other hand, Sofia, you will always be my soulmate. My best Consigliere. A comrade that I can trust with my back.

[If there ever is a next life, I will marry you.]

There was a stain at the bottom of the page that looked like teardrops.

I once thought that I had hit the jackpot by marrying Lorenzo. I once thought that his protectiveness of me was because of love.

I never thought that it was nothing more than charity.

It was so noble, yet so cruel.

I bent down and started to dry heave. The child in me seemed to have gotten a fright as an excruciating pain exploded in my abdomen.

My world started to spin and my vision started to go black.

Suddenly, I heard the heavy steel door of the basement burst open, followed by two voices that I would recognize even in death.

"Vittoria, what are you doing? Damn it! You've lost a lot of blood!"

"Quickly! Call the doctor! Prepare the car! Lorenzo, hold her! Stop trembling!"

What perfect coordination.

One was my husband, and the other was my best friend, Sofia Finzi.

Their panic sounded so real. It was so real that for one desperate second, it almost felt like those 300 love letters were just a nightmare.

I tasted blood in my throat, and I passed out.

When I came around once more, I was in the family's private hospital. The fluorescent lights of the hospital wards pierced into my eyes.

Some time after, the doctor took off his bloodied gloves and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Don Bartoli. The child didn't survive."

My child was dead.

Those few words completely broke me.

Lorenzo's unshaven face went closer to me, his eyes bloodshot. He held my hand so tightly it hurt a little, as if he was afraid I was going to vanish the very next second.

"I'm sorry. We didn't look after you properly."

Sofia stood by the end of the bed. Her eyes were puffy as she peeled an orange.

She sniffled and said with a catch in her throat, "Vittoria, please don't scare us. Could you say something?"

I looked at them.

In the past, I would have turned it around and comforted them. I would have told them that it was God's plan, and that I did not blame anyone for it.

However, at that moment, the contents of the 300 love letters replayed over and over again in my mind.

[Sofia, I can't marry you. That would be an insult to what we have. Vittoria needs a husband, and I need a comrade who could take a bullet for me.]

[Sofia, every time I see you smile, I want to give you the entire world.]

It turned out that I did not deserve to be loved. I was just a pet that they kept.

I retracted my hand and turned around, my back facing them.

"I'm tired."

I could hear stifled sniffling and Lorenzo's quiet consolation behind me.

"The doctor says she needs some rest, Sofia. Let's give her some space."

They left and gently closed the door behind me.

I opened my eyes to look out of the window at the night sky. A single tear drop fell from the corner of my eye.

That was the final tear for my dead child, and for the girl I used to be.