His Heart Her Hope

Alessia's POV

I rub the dry cloth against the plane surface of the plate and put it in the cabinet. Thankfully it is the last one.

I sigh as I wash my hands and then dry them with my apron.

I hear the old entrance door of the house creak open, its hinges protesting softly in the quiet afternoon. The sound of footsteps echoes in the hallway, growing closer as they approach the kitchen. Turning around, I see my brother Samuel entering the room, his arms laden with colourful grocery bags. He sets them down with a soft thud on the surface of the dining table, the crinkling of plastic contrasting with the stillness of the space around us.

“There you go,” he mutters as he takes a seat at the table.

I glance at the grocery. There are four bags in total.

“Oh God, Samuel, how much did you spend on this?” I ask as I stroll over the bags and peek inside them.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asks.

I blink.

“All the money I had,” he shrugs casually as if it isn’t a big deal.

“Why?” I ask as I tilt my head. “You know Dad will get mad if he doesn’t get the money tonight.”

Samuel scoffs, “It’s alright. I’ll find some… excuse.”

I know it will be of no use because at the end of the day, I’ll be the one facing his wrath.

But it’s nothing new to me. Ever since I was a young child, I have always been seen by my father as a bad omen. The day I was born marked a turning point in his life; he lost his job, and in his frustration, he pinned the blame squarely on me, declaring that I had brought him misfortune. Following that day, he abandoned any efforts to seek employment, choosing instead to drown his sorrows in the nightlife. Then he began visiting the clubs regularly, spending most of his day drinking and gambling with his so called friends.

However, the actual problem started when he compelled my mother to give him money that she collected to run the house. He continued and gambled it all away, desperately and recklessly trying to regain what he had lost previously in his unfortunate betting. Although he was clearly losing and left without anything of worth, it was me who had to bear the consequences and deal with his overwhelming anger and frustration. Eventually his annoyance would become intolerable, and he would vent his frustration on me. I’ve always been a victim of his anger.

I despised him for that, but my anger grew even stronger when my mother was diagnosed with bone cancer. Her treatments were incredibly expensive, and the weight of this burden felt overwhelming. To help pay for her care, I found a job at a busy café, working long hours and saving every penny I could.

But my father was heartless; he took almost half of my hard-earned money to gamble, leaving me frustrated and helpless. Just when I thought I was making progress towards getting my mother the treatment she needed, his actions reminded me how hard it was to provide her with the care she deserved. It felt like I was fighting not just against her illness, but also against the unfairness of my situation.

And now because of him, my mother is in the third stage of bone cancer.

I am pulled out of my thoughts as soon as I hear the doorbell.

Leaving the grocery on the table I stroll out of the kitchen and approach the door.

As I swing open it, I’m greeted by a familiar face.

Mrs Salvatore is standing at my doorstep. Her lips curl into a smile as her eyes meet mine.

“Hi, my darling,” she grins as she steps forward to wrap her arms around me.

I hug her back.

“How are you doing, my dear?” she asks as we both step back from the hug.

“I’m pretty good,” I smile slightly. It’s barely even visible. “Please, come in.”

As she steps into the house, I close the door behind her.

“I apologise for not being able to visit recently; I've been quite busy.”

“It’s okay.”

“How is your mom doing? Has her health improved at all?" she asks as she glances at me.

“No,” I sigh. “The doctors said she has very little time.”

She blinks at me.

“Where is she?” she asks. Her tone laces with empathy and concern.

“In her bedroom.”

She turns around and heads upstairs, while I make my way back to the kitchen.

“Who was it?” Samuel asks. He’s still sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone.

“Mrs Salvatore.”

He rolls his eyes in disgust.

“What? She’s a really good woman,” I say in her defence.

“Just because she’s mom’s only close friend doesn’t make her a good person.”

“Why would you say that? Remember that she was the one who supported us financially when our alcoholic father abandoned us to revel in parties with his friends,” I say as I turn on the stove and heat some water on it.

“Whatever,” he mutters.

Samuel doesn’t like Mrs. Salvatore because he thinks she spends money on us just to show off her wealth. But that’s not true. She is my mom’s closest friend and treats us like her own kids. Even though she comes from a rich family, she never acts proud or snobby like some rich people do. She has helped us a lot—in so many ways. She supported my brother and me with our education, bought us gifts, and even gave us money to help pay for my mom’s treatment.

She is an amazing person.

Anyway, I place some cookies on a plate, setting it on a tray with a cup, sugar, and a kettle.

I lift the tray carefully stride out of the kitchen and walk up the stairs.

As I get near mom's bedroom door, I hear her crying.

I pause the moment I hold the knob. Carefully listening to their conversation.

“Death is not what I fear, Diana. I only wish for my daughter to have the happy life she deserves,” my mom sobs. “She may look fine but deep down I know that my girl is sick of her father’s hideous cruelty. And I’m not able to do anything for her.”

The way she is crying, it aches my heart.

“That’s why I’m here for your help, Lylah,” Mrs Salvatore says softly.

“For how long, Diana? All the things you ever did for me and my children make me ashamed of myself, as I'm not in a position to repay the debt.”

“Shh… Don’t say that. Your children are my children,” Mrs Salvatore assures my mom.

Oh, Samuel. How can you hate such a woman?

“You still owe me a lot anyway,” my mom mutters.

“If I do so then, Lylah,” Mrs Salvatore takes a deep breath before continuing. “Can I ask you for one thing?”

“Oh, please don’t embarrass me like that. Ask anything, and I will do my best to help you.”

“I just want an answer of yes or no,” Mrs Salvatore says.

Mom takes a moment before she asks. “What do you want?”

“Your daughter, Lylah.”

My eyes widen as I almost let out a gasp escape my lips.

“My daughter?”

“I want Alessia for my son, Eric.”

WHAT? MARRIAGE?!!

Mom doesn’t speak.

“If you want your daughter to have the happy life she deserves, then let her be my future daughter-in-law,” Mrs Salvatore says. “Lylah, I have watched Alessia grow up and go to school. She has endured so much suffering because of her father, and she has reached her breaking point. I want to provide her with the love and life she truly deserves. Please.”

Mom still doesn’t speak a word.

“I won’t pressurize you into this matter. You should discuss it with Alessia, too. After all, she has a right to choose a partner for herself.”

I don’t waste a moment and twist the knob to open the door. I see Mrs Salvatore holding mom’s hands in hers, as she’s sitting on a chair.

“Come inside, sweetie,” mom says softly as she smiles.

I stride in, place the tray on the bed and pour some tea in the cup. Then I hand it to Mrs Salvatore.

“Thank you, dear.”