Page 43 of Unspoken Ties

In what felt like an eternity, but was probably only minutes, we saw Short Dino emerge from the store holding a bag. He opened the car door and tossed the bag into my lap before sliding back into his seat without uttering a single word. He started the car, and we sped off, leaving behind the bright lights of the store inthe dimming twilight. Everyone remained silent, even Tall Dino, whose usual cheeky chatter was noticeably absent.

Suddenly, the tension high and the silence unbearable, Luciana burst into laughter. It was a piercing, almost hysterical giggle at first, before deepening into a full-throated laugh that made her clutch her sides. The absurdity of the situation seemed to have finally caught up with her.

Tall Dino looked bewildered at first, then grinned as he joined her laughter, his deep chuckle almost drowning out the soft hum of the car engine. The laughter was contagious; before I knew it, I was holding my stomach and giggling along with them.

Short Dino remained quiet throughout the laughter-filled journey. But, in between my fits of giggles, I caught the smallest smile on his face in the rearview mirror.

“Let’s get back to business,” Luciana said as we arrived back at the apartment.

“Right!” I responded, my brows furrowing in determination.

Luciana dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table. Short Dino had bought one of every single test. “Uh… SD, I think just one would have been fine.”

He looked at her and shrugged, before turning back to reading the newspaper. It didn’t take long for him to resume his usual personality.

“I’ll just use this one, I guess.” I said, choosing a box with no rhyme or reason.

Luciana and I read the directions together. Speed-reading through the convoluted instructions, our heads bobbed simultaneously to the rhythm of the text. I could feel the warmth of her shoulder brushing against mine as we leaned closer, our focus narrowing down to the piece of paper in front of us.

“Two lines for positive, one line for negative,” Luciana read aloud, her brow furrowed in concentration. “And you have to dip it in pee.”

After giving me a cup, she shoved me into the bathroom.

“Good luck!” she chirped from behind the closed door, her voice a touch too cheerful for the gravity of the situation.

I didn’t need luck—I needed a miracle. My hands were trembling as I held the cup, staring at my reflection in the mirror. What was I hoping to find there? Assurance? Strength?

The mirror reflected only uncertainty masked behind a thin veil of hopefulness. I took a deep breath in an attempt to steady my nerves. It was neither the first nor the last time I’d come face to face with life-altering decisions, but the weight of it never seemed to lighten.

After following the directions and laying the stick on the counter, I waited. In less than a minute, two lines appeared. I blinked, certain my eyes were deceiving me. Two lines. Positive.

I sat down on the edge of the bathtub, the cold ceramic a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off me. The room seemed to spin, my vision blurring as I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Are you ok in there?” Luciana’s voice filtered through the door, her tone laced with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” My voice came out as an unconvincing whisper, echoing hollowly on the cool bathroom tiles.

I stood up, steadying myself against the cold porcelain sink. My eyes locked onto those two little lines that would forever change my life, hoping if I stared hard enough, they would somehow vanish.

What would Ettore think? As thoughts of him swirled around my head, a deep sense of worry clawed at my heart.

“What does it say?” Luciana asked through the door.

I tried to respond, but couldn’t get the words out. Instead, I opened the door and placed the test in her hand. Always nosy, Tall Dino hovered over her shoulder, also wanting to know the answer.

“Oh shit,” they said in unison.

Chapter twenty-two

Ettore

Liria had been acting strange since she got home from her friend’s house. She was mumbling her responses, wasn’t looking me in the eye, and would generally avoid being in my presence. She hadn’t done this since the first few weeks we were together.

I tried to think back to those early days, when we were still two independent entities trying to navigate the unfamiliar waters of an arranged marriage. We had made an effort to steer clear of each other unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

But over time, we had found our rhythm, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and mutual understandings. Now, that rhythm seemed disrupted, broken by an unfamiliar beat of discomfort.

As I watched Liria from across the room, I couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. She looked lost in a world of her own, her fingers absentmindedly drumming against the windowsill, her gaze fixated on the city skyline. The setting sun’s golden hue played on her face, accentuating the creases of worry that had appeared out of nowhere.

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