Page 47 of Forsaken Promises

And I can’t help but feel a flicker of anger, a sense of betrayal that he didn’t even bother to ask me what I wanted. That he just made the decision to marry me off to Dominico Sicura without even considering the possibility that it might not be what I desired.

I know he was only doing what he thought was best for me, for our family. I know that he believes this marriage will bring us strength and security and will ensure that we’re taken care of even after he’s gone.

But a part of me can’t help but wonder if he ever stopped to think about what it would cost me. If he ever considered the possibility that I might be miserable, that I might feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of a life that doesn’t feel like my own.

I shake my head, trying to banish the thought from my mind. I shouldn’t be thinking such horrible things about my father, not when he’s lying on his deathbed just a few doors down.

I should be grateful for the sacrifices he’s made, for the love and devotion he’s always shown me. I should be doing everything in my power to make him proud, to live up to the legacy he’s worked so hard to build.

But as I sit here in the silence of my childhood bedroom, surrounded by the ghosts of my past and the shattered remnants of my dreams…

I can’t help but feel like I'm losing myself, like I’m drowning in a sea of expectations and obligations, of duties and responsibilities that I never asked for and don't know how to bear.

I’m startled out of my thoughts by a soft knock on the door. I quickly wipe away the tears that have begun to fall, taking a deep breath to compose myself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens, and my mother steps into the room, her face etched with concern. “Sofia, sweetheart, are you alright?” she asks, moving to sit beside me on the bed.

I try to smile, but I can feel the tears welling up again and the dam opening. “I'm just… I’m scared, Mama,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I’m scared that Dom and I will never come to love each other, that we’ll always be stuck in this cold, empty marriage.”

To my surprise, my mother takes my hand in hers, a knowing look in her eyes. “Oh, Sofia,” she sighs. “I know exactly how you feel.”

I look at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She smiles sadly, her gaze distant as if lost in memory. “When I married your father, it was an arranged marriage too. I was so young, so naive. I thought love would come easily, that we would just fall into each other’s arms and live happily ever after.”

I stare at her, stunned. I had no idea that my parents’ marriage had started out like mine, that they had once been strangers bound together by duty and obligation.

“It wasn't easy,” my mother continues, her voice soft. “We were so different, your father and me. We came from different worlds, had different dreams and expectations. There were times when I thought we would never find common ground, when I was sure that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath before looking me in the eye. “There was even a time when I told your father that I hated him.”

I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “You did?”

She nods, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I did. I was so angry, so frustrated. I felt like I was trapped in a life that I hadn’t chosen with a man who didn't understand me.”

She squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “And now, after all these years, I can’t imagine my life without him. The thought of losing him…” Her voice breaks, and I feel my own tears start to fall.

“I know,” I whisper, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I'm so scared, Mama. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without him.”

She wraps her arm around me, holding me close as we both cry. “We'll go on together,” she says fiercely. “We'll lean on each other, and we’ll find a way to keep his memory alive. And we’ll never forget the love he had for us, the sacrifices he made to ensure our happiness.”

I nod, my tears soaking into the soft fabric of her expensive blouse. “I miss him already,” I choke out. “I miss him so much.”

“I know, my darling,” she soothes, stroking my hair. “I know. But he’s not gone yet, and we’ll cherish every moment we have left with him.”

As I pull back from my mother's embrace, wiping away the last of my tears, I feel a flicker of curiosity sparking to life within me. “Mama,” I ask softly, “what did you and Papa do to come together? How did you find your way to each other, despite all the obstacles in your path?”

My mother smiles, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalls the early days of her marriage. “It took hard work,” she admits, “a lot of compromise, and even more forgiveness. We had to learn to see each other’s perspective, to find common ground even when it seemed impossible.”

She pauses, a mischievous glint appearing in her gaze. “But you know what really did wonders for our relationship? Finding a common enemy.”

I blink, surprised by her words. “A common enemy?”

She nods, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Neither my Family nor the Marinos ever got along with the O’Malleys—they were our biggest business rivals, the Irish mafia in the city. And let me tell you, they were a thorn in our side for years.”

I lean forward, intrigued by this glimpse into my parents' past. “What happened?”

“Well,” my mother says, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, “one night, your father and I were at a gala, and Rork O’Malley was there. He had too much to drink and started getting handsy with me, making all sorts of lewd comments and suggestions.”

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