Pardona (noun)-
A Mistress.
They were married but she was never his wife.
His slave, his maid, his Padrona, his trophy but never his wife.
#514 in ShortStory ~21/08/2018
#57 in General Fiction ~ 14/12/2017
#64 in General Fiction ~ 11/12/2017
#92...
If you liked this chapter, please do vote, comment, and share.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
October 27th
Sicily, Italy.
The student must venture a long road before he truly learns the lesson.
To be a De Pablo wife, one must understand that your place belongs in the kitchen and in the house.
She wakes before the sun meets the sky; before the heavens open its eyes.
She rises from her bed before the cock crows and she takes a bath. She dresses in the designer clothes that he insists that she buys. Pampers her face as quickly as she can and then she moves to the kitchen.
A cornetto and a crostata she adds to his plate, she brews his caffe latte just right and she always has a bowl of fruits sitting on the side. Breakfast took six months to learn. The first time she had the audacity of making eggs and toast, a recipe that she saw on some Americano television show.
How foolish she was.
He slapped her so hard, her nose broke and her top lip was busted. He thought she had learned, she thought she has learned; but no student masters the task after just one class.
It actually took her a mild concussion from being slammed into the fridge to learn.
Today breakfast was perfect, she was perfect in her light blue mini skirt and equally blue button up blazer. Black mane slicked back, face free of makeup and ears adorned with a diamond earring, he had given to her when his mistress refused it.
It was their third anniversary. Three years since she had walked down the aisle and willingly sold herself to the De Pablo family.
Sometimes she wonders what her life would have been like if she had bought herself more time. Said no, allowed her sisters to feel the pain for once. Allowed them to carry their own burden. Maybe she could have escaped her father, travel to England by bus, find work, finish college.
Those were days when it was really bad and sadness clouds her better judgment.
She stills like she always does when she hears the door to the kitchen open. He strolls in, his body completely fills the space.
He puffs himself out, he lets you know that he is the top dog in charge. He demands respect and commands fear.
She cowers beneath his reign, shuffles away from him in fear, eyes cast low like a slave.
"Good morning" she mutters, always quietly, barely above a whisper and he always hears her.
He moves to the sun room and today she follows with a small box in her hand. She normally stays in the kitchen and cleans up, but today is special.
He sits at the head of the table and she sits at the other head, mostly out of fear and a desire to be as far from him as humanly possible.
"Happy Anniversary Piero" she mutters and he stills. She smiles as he glares at her with those ices that can melt mountains and she quickly slid the box across the table.
"I got you something"
Slowly he opened the box, took out its content; a long white stick with a rose pink tip. He furrowed his forehead in confusion and Contessina De Pablo smiled and said "I'm pregnant Piero"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
