I clasped the delicate lace of my bridal gown so tightly that my knuckles turned an ashen white. The pristine fabric, meant to symbolize purity and new beginnings, now enshrouded me like a funerary veil, suffocating the remnants of my former freedom...
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The sky outside was dark, mirroring the gloominess within me. Thunder rumbled, echoing through the dark expanse. Rain lashed against the windows, a relentless assault that mimicked the relentless echo of my own trauma. I dragged myself out of bed, moving with the weary languor of a wounded animal.
Confinement had become my sanctuary. I couldn't stand the concerned stares and hushed whispers that seemed to follow me everywhere else. Books offered a fragile escape from the constant reminders of what had happened. Mirrors held no solace, their reflection was like a horrifying sketch of the person I used to be. The bruises on my face were a constant reminder of the nightmare I had endured, a nightmare that continued to plague me even in the dead of night.
Alessandro had surprised me with his gentleness. He was there, ensuring my every need was met, his stoic demeanor masking a depth of concern I wasn't sure I fully understood. He was nothing like the distant, cold man I knew him to be. A bitter part of me wondered if this newfound attentiveness stemmed from genuine care, or simply pity. Probably the latter.
Yet, a glimmer of hope, faint but persistent, pierced through the suffocating darkness. Miguel and Alessandro, buried their animosity in the face of this crisis, which offered a fragile promise of a better future.
The gentle rap on the door startled me from my reverie. "Posso entrare? (may I come in?)" Helena's soft voice broke the tense silence.
Shame washed over me. In my self-absorption, I had neglected to consider the toll this ordeal had taken on Helena. She too had suffered, her heart heavy with worry for Andrea.
With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair, the meager strands offering scant cover for the marring bruises on my face. "Sì, entra, (yes, come in)" I managed, my voice hoarse from disuse.
Helena bustled in, her worried frown deepening at the sight of me. She set down a breakfast tray with ease, "Buongiorno, signora Rossi, (good morning, Mrs. Rossi)" she murmured.
The weight of my own inconsideration pressed down on me. "Helena," I began, my voice thick with guilt. "Per favore, chiamami Yasenia. Mi dispiace tanto di non avertelo chiesto prima, ma come stai? (please, call me Yasenia. I'm so sorry I haven't asked sooner, but how have you been?)"
Helena hesitated, her gaze downcast. "Sto bene, signora Rossi, (I'm alright, Mrs. Rossi)" she mumbled.
"Per favore, (please)" I pressed, reaching out to gently clasp her hands in mine. "Non sono stata la persona migliore che ho intorno, ma ci tengo a te. Mi dispiace di non averti controllato. So che sei preoccupato per Andrea. (I haven't been the best person to be around, but I care about you. I'm sorry I haven't been checking on you. I know you're worried about Andrea)"
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over like a dam breaking. "Sí, (yes)" she choked out, her voice raw with emotion. "È così difficile vederlo così, senza sapere... (it's so hard seeing him like this, not knowing…)"
