[ S E R A P H I N E ] It's almost five in the afternoon. I'm done with my classes, and I feel like throwing up again. “Crap.” I grunt and massage my temples. I'm lying on my back, the faint blue and green lines around the ceiling almost worsening the nausea. My roommate is still nowhere to be found. Not that I'm worried. She's got classes until six every Monday. She won't be here until nine. On weekdays, she and her boyfriend study in the library until late, usually after having dinner together. I have enough privacy for another couple of hours at least. Thankfully. I sigh to myself, sitting on the edge of my bed. Alone again. Too anxious to sleep or eat. The constant, dreary patter against the windows doesn't really help my mood. My heart thuds against my ribs as I stare at the pink boxes next to me. I haven't even opened them yet. I'm still processing what I just did, and what I'm supposed to do right now. It shouldn't be hard at all. Or confusing. I'll just sit in the
[ S E R A P H I N E ] I don't think he saw them. If he did, he would've brought it up before we left the dorms. We're in his car now. I'm buckled up in the backseat, the silence between us only growing more awkward by the minute. We're both lost in our own thoughts, it seems. Thankfully a phone call kept Dominico preoccupied while I was trying not to panic about the pregnancy test kits in my dorm room. I managed to stuff them into my backpack just before we left. My bag sits in my lap. It weighs a ton despite the slight numbness I feel inside. It's weird. I'm probably going insane. Dom sits to my right. Still and quiet. Too quiet. I stare out the window, the passing scenery a familiar blur. My heart's beating a little faster than normal. I don't really know why he wants to talk to me. Nor am I in the mood for another fight about my ex. I still feel sick. It's not simply nausea. I dunno what I would do if ever I actually saw a positive test result. I just don't have th
[ S E R A P H I N E ]It's late. What's he even doing? I flump down on the bed, alone in my dim room, impatient and exhausted. Where is he? Is he okay? It's been two hours. The last messages I sent are still waiting for a response from Dominico. I'm not sure why he still hasn't returned any of my calls. Is he on his way back? Or he's still in that facility? Surely visiting hours are over. Why does Ignazio want him there? What the heck are they talking about? If he's snitched on them more than once? Dominico shouldn't be anywhere near that abusive creep. These days, it's just too risky. Someone like him shouldn't be seen in public. Nor does he need to pay his father a visit.I'm not sure what Ignazio needs from Dominico right now. I just know that ruthless criminal is planning something again. Possibly something big and heinous. Something evil. Just scheming to further his interests as always.“Ugh. Please be okay,” I murmur to no one but myself, resting my arms on my
[ D O M I N I C O ] I grit my teeth. I want to break this desk in half, ruin everything in this room, then kick my own ass for good measure. My head's killing me. I need a break. I need to stop thinking about her. Fantasizing about her and a real future with her. It's just not plausible. And all this daydreaming isn't doing anything but frustrate me to no end. What pisses me off more is the fact that she thinks keeping things between us "platonic" for a while would do anything to repair our relationship. It's not working. Not really. It's not even a good enough Band-Aid solution. I can't function like this every fucking day. It's just not sustainable. I'll go clinically insane before my next appointment with my shrink. A faint knock on the door cuts off my thoughts, my mind suddenly blank for a moment. I check the numbers on my desk clock and scowl. Why is she still up? It can't be Fico or Paolo. More often than not, those idiots don't even bother to knock. My hand
[ S E R A P H I N E ] I'm skipping my class this morning. I'm too haggard, nauseated, sleep-deprived, and too stressed out to think about anything else but him. The sky stays a dingy gray and only a little bluish as I approach the front of Dominico’s house, my keys jangling in my pocket. I don't even wanna be here. I'm just gonna stay here all day in case he needs my help. Every five minutes or so, my brain pictures him all bloody and wounded, riddled with bullet holes, trapped in an old, abandoned warehouse somewhere... Shucks. I'm trying my best to push those thoughts aside. Can't let these dark thoughts win. But it's a challenge. Dominico's last text only says he left the detention facility, and that he's meeting someone. The lack of details eats at my peace of mind. I've tried calling him again. But, no luck. When a car pulls over just outside the gates, my heart jerks. The exhaust doesn't sound anything like the Maserati's, but it's familiar. I stand beside the locked
[ D O M I N I C O ] Fuck my life. I'll smell worse than rotting roadkill soon. These masked up pricks aren't police. What do they want? Money? Ransom? Do they think my family of criminals still give a shit about me? Once these gangbangers find out the opposite, they're gonna blow our brains out. Kill us all in broad daylight. I'll bleed to death under those trees, after they drag us out of the car and shoot us in the head one by one on the side of the road. These assholes won't even bother to cover our bloody corpses. “Mani in alto, compari.” [Hands up, fellas.] At the command, Fico sighs in the driver's seat and reluctantly takes his hand off the wheel. He slowly raises his palms, glaring at the masked guy standing near the driver's side. I do the same. I sit perfectly still. Any sudden movements could trigger a bloodbath in mere seconds. I'm trying to look unbothered, but, obviously this isn't anything new for these trigger-happy thugs. We're gonna be bleeding to o
[ D O M I N I C O ] I'm not a father-to-be. I don't have a baby on the way. It's just some bullshit I thought he would take into consideration before making his next move. On paper, I'm still a single man. But Ricchar Falco doesn't seem to know. And I have Sephie to thank for keeping her end of the deal. I just lied to a future mob boss. I lied to his face. In his own territory. But it's no big deal. It doesn't have to be. I did it to protect Seraphine and my family. To make sure they don't get dragged into Pappa's shitty business deals. To give them a better future. A normal life. Or at least I think that's what I'm doing. I'm trying to be the hero my fake wife and my soon-to-be divorcée stepmother think I should be. As they say, “You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.” I've tried going down that path. It's just not who I am. I can't be one of the villains. Turns out I still have a soul, despite everything. Although the idea of being a fathe
[ D O M I N I C O ] The irony of pain is that you wanna be comforted by the person who hurt you. But that's just the pain talking. The other person doesn't think it's their responsibility to make you feel better. These are self-inflicted wounds, after all. My own doing. Therefore I can't demand anything from her. My comfort and happiness are not her responsibility. I clench my teeth, fingertips paling around the wine bottle. I'm alone again. By choice for now. I'm sitting by the pool, just staring at the shiny ripples in the water. Not eager to go to bed. I can't. Not yet. Sleep can wait. She's probably crying in the guest room. Feeling sorry for me. Feeling awfully guilty for saying no. I don't even wanna imagine the conversation we'll have in the morning, if I sleep next to her tonight. I just know it'll be too awkward, strained, and probably too painful for us both. But it's not her fault. Whether I like it or not, her choice is valid. I have to respect it. Her reasons f