I turn and begin to walk away from them.
For a second, there’s silence, then footsteps sound behind me. "Christian, stop!" Aurora runs to catch up with me. "Please, Christian, just give me a few minutes of your time."
"Not possible." I increase my pace, so she has to jog to keep up with me.
"Don’t throw away what we have built so far."
"We’ve built nothing of consequence. Oh, wait," I raise my forefinger, "guess we made some memories, and even that doesn’t count for anything."
"You don’t mean it," she gasps as tears stream down her face, "I don’t believe you are as callous as you make yourself out to be."
"Better believe it." I head down the driveway to where my vehicle is parked. The same one in which I had driven her here. The one in which I had held her hand and barely been able to keep my gaze off her radiant face. In which we had laughed as I had opened the door, hauled her up in my arms bridal style, and swept her over the threshold and up the stairs to our bedroom. Our bedroom. Our home. The house I had bought for her, for us…for the future… That I can no longer see with her. Not after what she did.
I reach the car, wrench the door open on the driver’s side, and slide in.
"Christian, please—"
I slam the door in her face and cut her off.
She bends forward to look in the window, her chest heaving, her hair undone from the swept-up style she had worn it in earlier. Blood taints her bodice and is splashed across her neck. My twin’s—no, the stranger who looks like my twin’s—blood. The one to whom I must go now and figure out who the hell he is. That is more important than… Listening to the excuses that she’s, no doubt, preparing to fling in my face.
She bangs on the window, but I stare ahead. I am aware of tears flowing down her cheeks, of her saying something, but I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when I need to figure out the truth behind the appearance of the man who looks like my twin brother. I start the ignition, then press down on the accelerator so the car leaps forward. I drive toward the gates, hitting the remote on the dash so it opens. As I pull out of the driveway, I raise my gaze to the rearview mirror. My last sight is of her...in her wedding gown...staring after me. Then, I turn the corner, and she disappears from sight.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I apply the brakes and screech to a halt, then slam my fists into the steering wheel, "The fuck is wrong with me?"
Half an hour later, I park the car near the hospital where the injured stranger has been taken. I walk into the reception and am directed to the first floor. I walk down the corridor to the private room where the rest of the family is waiting.
"Christian," Nonna rises to her feet as soon as I enter the room. "Oh, god, Christian." She walks over to me, her features pale, dark circles under her eyes highlighting the crow’s feet. Her chin trembles as she reaches me. "I am so glad you are here,nipotino mio," she murmurs.
She holds out her hand, and I grip it. Then, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. She trembles, and for a second, I am struck by how fragile she feels. I pull back and gently peer into her face, "Is there any news?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"They took him into surgery," Michael replies from the window.
"They haven’t told us anything yet." Theresa sniffs. "I asked them if he was going to be okay, but they didn’t reply."
"They were too busy rushing him into the operating theater," Karma says gently.
"I know," Theresa wrings her fingers together, "and they were right to do so. I just wish someone would tell me if he’s going to be okay." She squeezes her eyes shut, "He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?"
Karma glances at Michael, who shakes his head. She pulls the other woman close, and Theresa buries her head in Karma’s shoulder.
"Where’s your wife?" Nonna asks, glancing behind me. "Why isn’t she with you?"
"She’s not with me anymore," I state blandly.
"What do you mean ‘not with you’?" Nonna searches my features. "What have you done, Christian?" she exclaims. "Did you… " she shakes her head, "Surely, you can’t be that stupid, can you?"
"She had planned to have me killed, Nonna," I pull away from her, "I am going to annul the marriage."
"Annulment." She throws up her hands, "What is wrong with you young people? You get married at the drop of a hat, then think you can undo the wedding as quickly?"
"It was because of her that I got shot."
"And you deserved it," Nonna snaps.
"What?" I stare, "How can you say that?"