Chapter 4 The Feeling Of Being Watched

• "By Giovanna Carcione"
• No matter how much I wished for the days to drag on, it seemed like even time was against me. The last month was all about organizing the ceremony, packing my things to send them to my new home, and enduring the excitement of the women around me.
• Any woman in Italy would kill to be in my place. After all, marrying Don Matteo and becoming Mrs. Villani is the dream of most, but not for me. I see it as a prison disguised as a fairy tale.
• After breakfast, I closed the last suitcase with a resigned sigh. As I look at the rest of my packed belongings, a feeling of suffocation takes over me. Every piece of clothing, every memory of my old life, now seems like another link in the chain that ties me to this destiny I did not choose.
• My moments of peace, without having to think about this marriage, are interrupted by two hard knocks. The door opens slowly, revealing the imposing figure of Alessio. He informs me about the arrival of the hairdresser and takes a step to leave, but then hesitates.
• His eyes, usually stern, now seem to hold a shadow of compassion. He approaches and sits beside me, silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
• "You shouldn't see this as a death sentence, sorellina. You will adapt to your new role," my brother tries to comfort me, adjusting a loose strand of my hair.
• "Why does everything have to be like this, Alessio? Why can't we have a normal life?" I sigh, feeling the weight of tradition on my shoulders.
• "It's our reality, Gio. You know our history, the obligations... There's no escaping tradition, especially when it involves so many things."
• "Archaic tradition," I affirm, rolling my eyes. Alessio clicks his tongue and shakes his head negatively, probably tired of hearing my complaints. "But how can we be sure about Don Matteo? What if he has ulterior motives?"
• "Don Matteo has been watched every step of the way in the last three months, since he proposed our alliance, a few days after that incident with you. He has no ulterior motives, trust me. But if he harms you, I will be the first to protect you, I promise."
• "Thank you for trying to cheer me up."
• "You will always be my sweet little sister," he declares, pulling me into a tight hug. Alessio kisses the top of my head and stands up. "Now start getting ready. The bride cannot get married wearing pajamas."
• [...]
• After spending the whole day receiving the necessary care to become the perfect bride for the ceremony, I finally faced my reflection.
• The wedding dress, in a dazzling white, envelops me with the softness of satin, accentuating my curves. The delicate embroidery and pearl details enhance the beauty of the dress. My hair is perfectly pinned up in an impeccable bun. My green eyes with a subtle touch of eyeshadow and my lips with a soft pink hue.
• Surprised by the result, I realize that I am a version of myself that is, at the same time, strange and familiar. I feel like an actress on a stage, playing a role that has been imposed on me, while my conflicting emotions hide under the white veil, awaiting the inevitable.
• "You look beautiful, daughter," my mother says, handing me the bouquet of white lilies. "I am sure you will be very happy."
• With the bouquet in hand and my mother's loving words echoing in my ears, my father offers me his arm and leads me to the car. In a few minutes, a convoy forms behind us, accompanying us to the church where I saw Don Matteo that night.
• Of all the preparations, my only request was that the ceremony not take place at that location. And it was the only one Matteo did not want to comply with. Matteo, upon hearing my refusal of the chosen location, when I was completely panicked at the thought of reliving that night, something in his gaze showed me that he enjoyed seeing my terror.
• I swallow hard as we park in front of the church, focusing on my breathing to keep from crying. The memories of that traumatic night seem to intertwine with the present, making the moment even heavier.
• Even with his indecipherable expression, typical of a Don, I see a hint of understanding in my father's eyes. He kisses my head and leaves me alone in the car, so I can calm down.
• As my father steps away, allowing me a moment of solitude, I try to gather the strength needed to face what is to come. I take a deep breath, feeling the air enter my lungs and bring a momentary sense of calm.
• My father offers me his arm as I open the door and leads me to the church door. As the wedding march plays, all eyes turn in my direction. My gaze meets Alessio's, who is standing next to Giuseppe at the altar, and he gives me an encouraging smile.
• Approaching the altar, I notice the imposing figure of Don Matteo, waiting for my arrival. My future husband is wearing a black suit, turquoise tie, and his perfectly groomed black hair. I must admit, he looks even more handsome.
• His intense blue eyes study me, and a subtle smile plays on his lips. I swallow hard, trying to contain the tumultuous emotions that threaten to overflow. The ceremony begins, and the priest's words become a distant buzz in my ears.
• The air becomes heavy, and breathing seems increasingly difficult for me. All I want is for this to end once and for all. And then, I mentally thank when it is time to exchange rings.
• Automatically, I place the small metal object on Matteo's finger. He does the same to me, finishing the ritual with a cold and distant kiss on my fingers.
• "I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest says, with a formal smile, officiating the marriage. "You may kiss the bride."
• Matteo lifts the veil, giving me a smile as he approaches. For brief seconds, his lips touch mine. At this moment, the girl inside me believed that something could change, that magically I would fall in love with him. But all I felt was as if an ice cube was there, touching my skin.
• Finally, I’m married... at least before God's law and the law of men. And so, following tradition, Giovanna Carcione officially stayed behind, becoming Giovanna Villani.
• As we leave the church, the salty sea wind caresses my face, mixing with the scent of flowers in my hands. Matteo holds my hand firmly, and our steps lead us to the majestic seaside Villa, where the reception awaits us.
• We sit in the main hall, where the guests are gathered, and soon the side conversations begin at the table. A few hours later, my gaze fixed on a face that I would prefer never to see again.
• The man from that night is there, among the guests, watching me with a gaze that cuts through my soul. Panic takes hold of me, my heart races, and my breathing becomes shallow. Shrinking, I try to control the tremors that run through my body, while the memory of that horrible night returns in full force.
• "Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom."
• With a trembling voice, I ask for permission and get up from the table, my mind in turmoil. However, as I cross the hall towards the bathroom, I can't help but feel that man is still watching me, as if that night of terror had not ended for me.