Death's Bride (2)

"Smile a little, Madame, you see as you walk to your funeral," Lina said, wholly frustrated with Maya, who refused to smile after her makeup was done, staring straight at the mirror and ignoring the beauty she reflected.

All she could see was him, inhaling him wherever she went, his aura enveloping her like nature's air.

It had been three days since she was dragged back to the manor—three days of preparations and constant questions, most of which she didn't answer, leaving the planners perplexed about how to carry out Don's order of "Whatever Donna says."

Three days of him staying out and she staying in, barely eating anything and staring out the window into space, her thoughts racing like a freight train.

Good thing he was never around these days, even when Maria had come over-excited at the prospect of a wedding with the news that Gretta and Derinem had sent their apologies for not being able to come.

Was she relieved? Yes, she was; it was a lot of solaces. She couldn't imagine