Anthony's Angel ✓

LIV. A Sense of Familiarity

It looks like someone put jalapenos in my eyes because that's how red and bruised it is from all the crying last night.

"You should go to the party," Anthony suddenly said while having breakfast with everyone.

I take a few blinks, trying to understand what she said. I've been tuning out everything since I entered the dining room. I turn towards Lily who tilts her head towards Francesco. I look at him to receive a grim smile and shrug. "Party?" I said slowly, trying to make sure I heard right.

"I heard you got invited to a party at school; you should go," Anthony said, while everyone continued staring at their food.

Even Anthony's mother wasn't saying a single word like she heard wrong.

"What?" Lily questioned.

"You both should go with Francesco. You're still young, enjoy life." He dabs the napkin on his lip before excusing himself.

I sat there, still trying to comprehend the one-sided conversational exchange.

The weekend rolls around with Lily and me sitting on the bed, staring at the invitations. "Do you want to go?" she suddenly asks me.

I continue staring at it. After some moments, I grab the envelope, elope away from the comfortable bed, and stroll towards Anthony's office to find it empty. I walk towards our bedroom to see it unoccupied. A person passes by, "Where is Anthony?" I feel like I ask that question too many times despite being his wife. I know I can always call him, but calling Anthony seems to be so difficult for me.

"Mr.Marazano is out."

"Do you know where or to meet whom?"

"He's going to meet Gabriella," Francesco's voice in before he excused the maid in front of me. She complies and politely withdraws, without a single pint of curiosity.

I realize that many of Anthony's workers aren't noisy unless they are new. It turns out that being loud or chatty in a mafia household isn't a good idea. They get well-paid to keep their mouths shut and turn a blind eye to anything that occurs around them.

"Oh," is the only thing I can say.

"They are just talking," he reassures me. "But, I thought you should know."

"That he's seeing his almost wife," I grumble.

Francesco sigh, "Sorella maggiore he-"

I brush it off and shrug casually. "I'm not in charge of Anthony, he can meet whomever he wants. I don't care." Liar.

I began walking away, "You know what? If he wants me to go to a party so he can chit-chat with his potential wife, then let it be!" I wave a hand in the air. "I'll satisfy him and go."

Francesco grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards his chest. I take a few blinks, as his eyes gaze deeply into mine. I realize that his eyes aren't blue like Anthony's rather a deep shade of chocolate similar to his mother.

"What are you two doing?" Anthony's mother somehow decides to make her appearance.

I realize our proximity was too close for comfort, so I push back. Francesco released me and took a step away. "I want to calm my sorella maggiore down. She is upset."

She takes a step closer. "Oh, about what?"

Francesco glances at me, wanting to see if I'm willing to respond. "Fratello maggiore did something small to upset her, that's all."

She glances at me and hums lowly. I clutch my hands firmly. "Did you tell Anthony to go see Gabriella?" I couldn't contain myself.

Her eyes widen in almost a surprise-like manner before they turn back to their normalcy. "Anthony is seeing Gabriella?" her voice suggests she isn't lying.

"You really didn't have anything to do with this meeting?" Francesco ask.

She folds her arms and sighs. "I wish I could take credit, but I cannot." For the past few days, I have realized that Anthony's mother's words can be cruel, but she is anything but a liar.

I purse my lip. "I'm sorry for my tone," I said, before walking away from the scene. I ran towards the garden in the back of the mansion and hid behind the bushes. Covering my ears, I calmly sat there wanting to know what was wrong with me.

Despite the constant questioning, I know exactly what's wrong with me. I'm jealous of a woman that I never met. That's something I cannot accept. It's because it's a sign of romantic love - the struggle against jealousy, possession, and control.

Hours after hours pass, and I feel like a little girl again. Whenever something happens, I can never confront it. If there is a monster in the closet, I'll hide under my bed. If there is one under my bed, I'll hide under the sheets. If one is beside me, I'll sing to myself until it's all over - gone. Unlike my youth, this monster will never disappear. If it does, my heart will shatter.

I'm in love with a monster.

The rustling of bushes skews into my ears, and I look up from my teary eyes. His electric blues strike into mine and with this overly embarrassing situation, something extremely familiar soaks in. He laid out a hand while a brief chuckle left his throat. "Hey, are you lost?" I can smell the alcohol and cigarettes from him, somehow feeling warm.

I didn't understand why I nod.

He brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. "Stop crying. I don't like it when my little wife cries."

Unknowingly, I rush towards him with my arms clung around his neck, and I cry even harder. At that moment, I'm grateful that no one is near or else I may die of embarrassment. I'm crying because I'm jealous - how pitiful.

"I-I don't want you to s-see her anymore. I don't like it," those words were childish; ones from an excruciatingly spoilt girl.

"Who don't you want me to see?"

"G-Gabriella! I don't care if there was nothing between the both of you! I don't want you to see her. I don't care if I'm acting jealous and irrational. Don't see her!" At that moment, I won't be surprised if he pushes me off and divorces my spoiled stupid ass.

However, instead, he lifted me in his arms and brought me inside the house. The tears burst and the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child. I clung my arms around his neck, fearing that he may let me go. Instead, he places me on the kitchen counter. I still cling to him. "You're bleeding, mio cuore," he said, and I looked down to see scratches on my legs and arms probably from the bushes.

I release him, and he walks toward the cabinet and then pulls out a first aid kit. I sat there, staring at him as he squeezed some alcohol into a cotton pad and dabbed it against my flesh. I hiss lowly at the stinging sensation. Afterward, he grabs several bandages and sticks them all over my body before cleaning.

"Anthony...have we met before?"