Page 10 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Nine

Isabella

“ I feel like a drowned cat,” Mia mutters as we climb the stairs to our rooms.

“You look like one,” Sienna shoots back with a grin.

She, Ari, and Mamma escaped the restaurant seconds before the sprinklers went off.

Mari chuckles quietly. “At least the food was good before the flood.”

“It sure made for an exciting end to the night,” I chime in. “Hopefully, nobody got hurt.”

My sisters hum in agreement.

“Happy birthday again, Isa,” Ari says, kissing my cheek as we reach the top landing. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Night, girls.”

They linger a second longer, hugging me one by one.

As I turn toward my room, my heart flutters. My sisters steal another glance in my direction before disappearing down the hall. They wonder as much as I do.

The hallway light casts a faint glow across the door, its center darkened by my shadow .

Light and dark.

Hope and fear.

All of it playing out inside me.

There’s probably nothing waiting for me, no chocolates from Luca again this year. But the foolish hope inside me won’t ease up.

With a fortifying inhale, I push down the handle and enter my room, closing the door behind me. My eyes are fixed on my hands. They’re shaking, the knot in my chest tightening.

I don’t want to look. Don’t want to confirm what I’ve come to expect.

Please let him have remembered this year.Please let there be a sign he’s alive and still mine.Please. Please. Please.

Slowly, I lift my gaze from my hands and let it wander to the bed.

My stomach sinks… then my heart.

The bed is empty. Still perfectly made. Unchanged.

No chocolates. No ribbon. No sign of Luca.

I stand there for a moment, the silence pressing in around me. Tears sting my eyes, but I will not let them fall. I’ve done enough crying to last me a lifetime.

In fact, I hate crying. It’s pathetic… like I never learn.

Angry at myself for hoping yet again, even though I knew better, I head to the bathroom, moving a little slower than before.

I strip out of my soaked dress and lay it carefully across the counter. God, I hope it’s not ruined. Mari nailed exactly what I love.

Goosebumps rise on my arms as the air chills my skin. I step into the shower and let the hot water thaw what’s left of me.

The warmth soothes me like a balm. I tip my head back, eyes closed, and let the steam curl through my thoughts of birthdays.

So many of them were happy and filled with the kind of firsts every girl dreams of.

But then came the sad ones. One after the other, getting worse each year.

Except…

Today was somehow different. Tonight especially was unexpected .

Not just because of the sprinklers or the laughter with my sisters. But because of him.

Sebastian .

I squirt shampoo into my hands and massage it into my scalp.

Had he been about to ask me out? Or did I imagine it?

The way he steadied me, held my gaze. Like there was no one else in the world. It reminded me of Luca… who isn’t here and won’t be again.

Despite the heat of the water, a shiver moves through me. I’ve barely spoken to him, but something stirred… a flicker.

Not since Luca has anyone made me feel anything. Not like that.

I freeze, my hands stopping mid-lather, startled by the realization.

Am I… not numb anymore?

The awareness settles over me slowly, but it shakes something important loose. For so long, the numbness was my shield. Especially after the gifts stopped coming.

But if I’m feeling again…

If something inside me still responds, then perhaps Mia was right this morning.

Maybe it’s time.

After drying off, I tug on a sleep shirt and return to my room. My hair’s still damp, dripping the occasional bead of water down my back. I don’t bother with a towel. The cool air is oddly grounding.

I sit on the edge of my bed and reach for the drawer.

Inside is the framed photo Father made me put away. From our engagement party.

Luca and me. Smiling. Glowing, really.

So young. So sure.

I trace his face with the tip of my finger.

If you were still out there, mio falco… would you still look the same? Would you still smile with your eyes first, slow and teasing, before your lips gave you away?

My eyes drift to the corner of the room. To the camera.

The invisible tether I refused to cut. In case he was watching. In case he still cared.

How many nights did I lie awake, staring at that lens? Whispering his name like a prayer, sometimes like a curse. Trying to provoke a reaction. Any reaction.

I stripped for him… touched myself.

But still… nothing.

Luca would never abandon me. Mia said it this morning, and it’s what I’ve always told myself. He’s not that kind of man. He loved me fiercely, with a depth that seared. I felt it.

So if he never came back, if he didn’t so much as leave a sign for three years, then…

Then…

He truly must be—

The word won’t come, my mind still refusing to go there. I’ve considered it before, though, late at night when hope seemed like a curse. But I could never believe it. Some small, stubborn part of me refused to let go.

Still does.

And yet, it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

I press a trembling kiss to his picture behind the glass. His face doesn’t blur. It doesn’t soften. It stares back at me, eternal and unreachable.

This is all I have of him now, isn’t it?

A still image. A memory behind glass. A love that never had the chance to grow old.

No final goodbye. No body. No closure.

Just a bleeding absence.

I blink away the tears threatening to rise.

No more tears, remember?

Since Luca left, I’ve lived off memory and habit. Off foolish hope.

The time is finally here, isn’t it?

Acceptance creeps in.

It feels real… like the end.

I glance at the corner where the camera watches.

Mia was right this morning. It’s time to let go and move on. To continue with the plans I’ve been working toward for years, ever since that first sign of life from Luca, a year after he vanished.

Only now, the end goal is changing. It’s no longer to escape and find him, but to get out of this predestined life and make my own.

If I don’t move forward now, Father will decide my path for me. My window is closing.

I take one last look at Luca’s face. Those familiar eyes. That teasing smile.

I will always love you.

My thumb lingers on the glass.

Then, slowly, I place the frame back into the drawer. I take off his necklace and place it beside it.

As if trying to pull me back in, my eyes land on something golden, tucked in the corner, barely visible beneath a folded scarf.

A pale gold ribbon. Frayed at the ends, soft from years of being handled. It was tied around the first box of chocolates.

On autopilot, I reach for it, curling it around my fingers. The satin feels like a memory against my skin.

For a second, just a second, I let myself get pulled back to hours of imagining what life would’ve been like if our wedding day had gone ahead. If Luca had stayed and I’d gotten to love him out loud, in the open.

No, Isa. Don’t get lost in what-ifs.

That world doesn’t exist.

Don’t falter now.

I let the ribbon fall back into the drawer and close it before my resolve wavers more.

I glance toward the corner again.

It’s time.

The camera is nearly invisible, hidden like a secret. I’ve lived under its gaze so long it has become part of the room. Part of me.

Sebastian’s eyes flash through my mind. The way they lingered. The spark they lit in me, however small .

I will never see him again. And that’s okay.

But he made me feel something. And maybe that’s enough to show me the truth.

I can’t keep living in the past, clinging to a ghost. I owe it to myself.

If Luca were alive, he would have come. He would have found a way.

I still love him. Always will.

But I can’t live in limbo. I may have lost him. But I won’t lose myself.

I cross the room, drag the chair from my desk, and climb onto it, heart pounding. My fingers reach for the camera.

Time to reclaim my life.

It takes a little effort. Luca installed it well. But eventually it loosens, and I unplug the wires.

I hold the small device in my hand. A relic of my past. Of us .

“I love you, Luca,” I whisper, bringing it to my heart and holding it there. “But it’s time to let you go.”

I climb down and open the drawer again, setting the camera gently next to his picture and necklace.

My fingers hesitate before sliding it shut. I’m really doing this.

I sit on the edge of my bed again and stare at the dark corner where that quiet sentinel used to be.

For the first time in years, something feels different.

Not lighter. Not free.

But steadier.

Like the first quiet moment after a storm, when the dust hasn’t settled yet. But you have.