Mafia & Miss Honey | Mafia Heirs #1 | ✓

38. Trentotto

She waved at him again as he drove off in his SUV. Her fleeting glance stopped at me. Sheepishly she raised her hand for an awkward wave at me. I didn't return it and continued to walk. She has to be hiding something.

Mr. and Mrs. Retirement were now sitting on a chair under the small porch. Don't they have any kids? What did they do in their early life to afford to live in this area? I shook my head to shrug off the gloomy thoughts. My walk turned into long strides as I ran away from them. I halted as I passed by the diner, what do they sell apart from the greasy treats. No one is living an honest life apparently, people always have something to hide.

A loud scream released from my mouth and I clutched Van closely to my chest, as our hearts thrummed loudly against our chest. Tears gathered in my eyes as I scanned my surroundings. Without realizing it, I had stepped down the curb and was crossing the road without looking. The driver threw a mean curse word at me. I heard murmurs behind me. They were calling me blind, idiot, a dumb cunt. Because that's what I am. Gian fooled me and his friends... They were all in it. I was blinded by his love. But I can see things clearly now. Yet, I love him.

*****

On the fourth night, my gaze was on the right side of the bed again. The mattress had Gian's body impression. That side has now permanently sagged from his weight and later from mine as well, as I used to crawl on top of him clinging to him every night.

It's been 15 days since I have last seen him, but my daily routines are yet to being back to the previous normal life. When he came to my life, I never needed to adjust to his presence. But when he left, he took a part of me with him.

My palm clutched the t-shirt I had been wearing. He took all of his stuff with him like he was never here. This one I had found rummaging into the cloth hamper like a homeless man in a dumpster for leftover food. It no longer smells like him, but it is still him. I rolled over to his side sinking in the compressed mattress and hugged myself to maybe get some relief.

But the bathroom was in that direction, he used to lean in the door-frame, wearing just a towel. To give me plenty of time to gawk at him, when I pretended to sleep covering my face with my arms and peeked at him from the small gap. I flipped into a different position, now having to face my vanity table. Which was worse.

I thought of going to a real licensed therapist. But thought against it, what if I end up telling them something I am not supposed to. Gian never admitted to anything properly and the articles on the farther corner of the internet only talk about his alleged ties with the organized crime family.

I shake my head vehemently. I don't want to go there again. I already don't remember much of what Gian had told me about his life. Bilson's evil smile still haunts me since I had that flash of memory.

My gaze flickered to the clock in hopes to see it close to morning. I have to be up in 2 hours for school. Throwing the comforter off, I went to my wardrobe. My hand glided to the end of the cloth hanger. Gian's Armani jacket, the one I had conspired to have so I could see him again, was still hanging there in the corner. Taking it off the hanger I went back to the bed again. I slid the sleeves of the jacket in my arms wearing the backside on front. My lips tugged in a smile, I rolled back to the dip in the mattress, made a steeple of my fingers then closed my eyes, pretending that I was in Gian's arms.

*****

In the morning at the kindergarten, I was tying my hair back to a tight chignon when Helen squealed, startling me, making me jump a good two feet.

"When did you cut your hair, Zara." She circled around to stand right in front of me.

Meekly I ran my hand over my thick locks. "I just got cut a few inches. Too many split ends." I answer, shifting on my feet.