Thirty Three

They say time heals all wounds, but I want to disagree. It heals, sure, but not all wounds. Just parts—small parts.It's been months since I finally accepted that Luca was gone. That that was a love I got to enjoy for a moment, but it was gone now. I did get back to therapy. I don't go as regularly as I used to, but I got the help.I don't see him in my dreams anymore. But that's fine. Because I learnt that if I wanted to let him go, then I had to let him go in my dreams as well.I’m better now. Not perfect—no one really is after death brushes past your doorstep and lingers like smoke in your lungs—but I’m better. I’m breathing again without that tightness in my chest, the one that made every exhale feel like grief. The kind that wraps around your ribs and whispers, “You shouldn’t be okay yet.”But I am. Because I’m allowed to be. Because Alessandro—my Alessandro—didn’t let go o

Thirty Four

I think when I suggested we elope and get married, it didn't cross my mind that we would both want this so desperately.We are running late.Not for anything grand. Not for some dramatic scene with tuxedos and white gowns. But for a quiet moment we’ve promised each other—just us, a judge, and the kind of silence that feels like forever.It's happening. And I'm over the moon, but still, there's a little part of me that's scared. The last time I tried to get married, I lost my husband. I know that we are keeping this a secret, which means no one will try to stop it, but still. The unhealed, traumatic part of me is a little scared.But here we are, regardless.I’m still laughing when we get into the car. Alessandro is double-checking the documents for the fifth time like the world might conspire to keep us from saying I do. Dell and Tati are already in the backseat, bickering over who should’ve brought the champagne.&ld

Epilogue

The scent of vanilla frosting and fresh-cut flowers lingers in the air as I bend to fix Luca’s bowtie. Not that Luca. The newer, chubbier, clingier one—Luca Alessandro Jr. Today is his first birthday, and true to form, he’s both drooling on my silk blouse and trying to eat the edge of his party hat.“I named you after a man who feared bibs,” I whisper, chuckling as I wipe his chin. “Don’t disappoint your namesake.”Alessandro is on the phone a few feet away, murmuring something in Italian. I recognize the clipped tone—it’s a business call, Mafia business, which he promised wouldn’t interrupt today. But of course, it has. It always does.I shift baby Luca onto my hip and scan the garden. Rosie is running barefoot on the grass, her curls bouncing, chasing Tim, who’s shrieking with laughter and clutching his juice like it’s his last defense. Alberto is seated under the gazebo with his ske

The Don's Forbidden Muse のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 133

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Epilogue