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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I squared my shoulders, looking Diego in the eye. My hands were balled into tight fists, knuckles white with tension. A solitary tear escaped my dark, reddened eyes and streaked down my cheek. Anguish and anger coursed through my veins like a relentless wildfire. I was breathing heavily, each exhale almost sounding like a suppressed scream. I was beyond devastated, beyond heartbroken.
Across me stood Diego, holding the same cold and lifeless gun. Surprisingly, he hadn't even tried to escape.
Diego's hands trembled slightly as he met my gaze. His bloodshot eyes wide in terror, realization probably sinking in like a brutal punch to his gut. He didn't move, didn't speak. He looked as if his entire being was consumed by a horrifying, remorseful shock. The weight of what was going to happen seemed to rest heavy on his aged, weary shoulders.
"Why?" I bellowed through clenched teeth. My voice echoed around the eerily silent room, almost as if reverberating with the pain in my heart.
If I were to lose her, I wouldn't simply lose my wife. I would lose my world. Yasenia wasn't just my better half; she was my sanity, my strength, my very reason for being.
My words came out in a tortured whisper, "Why did you do it?" My body looked calm compared to how tangled my mind was.
Diego remained speechless, words unable to form on his trembling lips. His gaze remained frozen on my face, drinking in the pain and anger etched across my features. In his shock, he seemed to be standing at the edge of the abyss, unsure and horrified of what he had triggered.
"I...I didn't mean to," he finally stammered out. "I...she..."
"What? Father, what?" My voice resonated throughout the room, fueling his terror. "Come on, give it to me, your excuses, your justifications. You always have a way with words."
"The lines between reality and the nightmare I'm wishing to wake up from, is blurring for me," Diego whispered, tears glistening in his wide eyes. "I wish I had an answer for you, Alessandro, an answer that could ease even a speck of the pain etched across your face, but I have none."
He looked trapped in his own hell, lost and burdened by guilt and shock, holding onto the dreadful remnants of a fateful act that he himself looked incapable of accepting he had committed.
"So, it's my pain you're concerned about now?" Bitter laughter slipped through my sobs.
He tried to steer the conversation in another direction. "Your mother-"
"Don't you fucking dare!" I cut in furiously. "Don't speak of her! You took her from me!"
"I'm sorry..." he muttered, his voice no louder than a whimper.
"For what...papà!" I countered with a maniacal laughter. "For what? For using me and my mother as your punching bag? For pushing her to end her life? For turning me into a monster? For never...loving me?" Emotions welled up within me, churning up decades worth of pain that now overflowed down my cheeks.
