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He had his life, and she had hers.
He had assumed she would understand.
Or even prefer that he had not come to claim her.
But when he looked at her now, it was strangely impossible to tell.
Lorenzo had never seen eyes such as hers, which was a bewitching mix of brilliantly blue skies and ghostly gray clouds.
Eyes that had the makings of a perfect storm...
But as soon as the thought formed in his head, he rejected it right away.
Get a fucking grip, Anghileri.
Because words that were lovely and poetic no longer belonged to a monster like him.
Journal Entry
It makes me sad that I can't read his eyes.
Will this change as time passes?
Or does love have to blossom first?
WHY IS HE STILL STARING at me?
And why can't I look away?
It feels so wrong to have such conflicting feelings for another man at Giancarlo's funeral. But at the same time, a part of me also welcomes it.
(Because Giancarlo's still alive!)
I smile at Lorenzo. I want to act like normal.
(Because Giancarlo's still alive.)
"Hello."
Something flickers in Lorenzo's green eyes, but I'm still too busy trying to actnormalto figure it out.
Alive, self. Your brother is still alive. So—-
"Hello, wife."
Stop thinking about Giancarlo for now because there's a bigger puzzle standing right in front of you!
I want to think I've imagined things, but what I see in my peripheral vision insists otherwise.
Everyone is in shock, which means they've heard the same thing.
Hello, WIFE.
That's what he said.
And with those two words, he's turned everyone's world upside down.
Wife.
