Page 20

It’s late by the time we leave for the day and we both head to our cars.

Every Friday, I visit my family at the compound, where I have dinner with my mother and sister.

As soon as the gates open, I drive down the long, paved road, lights posted on each side leading to the mansion. As wide and open as the land is, it feels like a prison where both my sister and mother sheltered themselves as if wanting to forget the life happening beyond the gates.

Parking, I take a moment to put on the amiable mask when I would like nothing more than to help my sister. But after four years, my hopes have dimmed. And my mother, I think she’s just a lost cause, going through the motions as if waiting for it to end already. It’s depressing as fuck.

Maybe that’s why I insisted on breathing life into this place with the pond and colorful gardens that surround the mansion. Or maybe it was my selfish way of not wanting to be faced every time with the same scenario where my guilt chews at my insides.

Climbing out of the car, I button up my jacket.

“You’re still alive, I see,” my sister says from her balcony.

She’s bent over, and I can’t stop myself from smiling at her. She’s a headache and a menace and has too much personality in someone so tiny. I just wish she’d start living, go out, move past that horrendous thing no woman should experience.

“Would you have missed me?” I ask, just to rile her up.

“Wouldn’t miss stupid,” Dahlia says cheekily and then disappears.

Walking inside, my shoes clack over the marble surface. My mother is in the dining room, and I glance at my watch, making sure I am not late.

“Mother.” I dip my chin and kiss the top of her head.

She pats my hand, saying in a soft voice, “I’ve missed you this week.”

Right then, my sister walks inside, mouthing, “Should I tell her?”

“Don’t you dare,” I mouth back.

With a huff, she plops in her chair.

“Mika told me you performed beautifully as ever.”

She avoids my eyes for a second before she shrugs.

“Don’t you—”

“Don’t. Stop. I am fine. I love things just as they are.”

I give a stiff nod right in time for dinner to be served.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” my mother asks, worry threading through her voice.

“I am,” I assure her while my sister pins me with a glare.

I ignore Dahlia and once again, silence follows, as if we have nothing more to talk about. Everyone lives their own life, apart from the others, while still sharing a blood connection. It’s my responsibility to take care of my family.

Things haven’t always been like this. However, I’ve gotten used to the new status quo.

No wonder I’ve enjoyed giving in to this madness this week. It was a break from my monotonous life.

After dinner, I accompany my mother to her favorite place—a sitting room with a view over the backyard where a pool and palms surround it with a lush cactus from which colorful flowers sprout, creating a wild garden. By the window, there’s an overstuffed armchair and a small coffee table. On the right side, an entire shelf filled with books spans the wall.

She has one book waiting for her, tipped upside down on the table. It’s a romance novel and I sigh, knowing she misses my father and uses reading as an escape.

“I’ve had the experience of falling in love, being with the love of my life. Now, I just want to experience it through books.” A small pause follows before she continues in a soft voice, “Mio figlio, love is the greatest thing people can live through. I hope that one day this house will be filled with that once again. Laughter, parties, children’s squeals.”

I don’t want to shatter my mother’s hopes for her children, so I keep quiet, kiss her on her cheek and leave.