Cheesie
I've been married to Federico Moretti for four years, and the entire time, we've lived in a run-down basement.
He works three jobs, all to save up money to buy me a house filled with morning sunlight and make it our home.
So when the doctor gives me my diagnosis, all I can think about is how I'm about to become a burden to him.
When I get home, Federico is crouched in front of a leaking pipe, wrapping tape around it.
He looks up and spots the hospital envelope in my hand, his expression darkening.
"Sera, how many times have I told you? Those white coats are all crooks. Look at Alfredo's mom. She had a whole bunch of tests done and spent all that money, only to get better after drinking some mulled wine."
I glance down at the diagnosis report and suddenly smile.
"What if I really am dying?"
He frowns. "Don't talk like that. We still owe each other a real wedding. And if you're really sick, I'll make sure you get treated, even if I have to sell my own organs."
That night, I swallow all my painkillers at once, determined not to be a burden to him anymore.
When I open my eyes again, I'm floating in midair, watching Federico sit on a leather couch inside a private manor.
Julia Rossi leans against one of the pillars in the living room, a glass of wine in hand and smiling.
"Mr. Moretti, it must have been rough on you, living in that pigeonhole day after day, pretending to be poor for her."
Federico takes off his cheap digital watch and tosses it into the fireplace.
"You know I love her. But the Black Crown values loyalty above all else, and in my position as Underboss, everyone around me has an angle. Without a setup like this, how could I ever be sure she loves me for who I am and not for my power and money?"
Only now do I understand.
All those years of scraping by are nothing but a test he carefully staged.
However, it has cost me my life.