Deep down, maybe Sofia always knew she’d eventually make her way back here.
At that moment, Sofia cursed Aurora for dying young, for making her make that awful promise. Her father considered Sofia an embarrassment, the weak link. Sofia had never been as strong as her sister was, but at the very least, Sofia could pretend.
“I am not your mother, but I can only offer you this one piece of advice. Don’t make it hard for yourself. Fighting the inevitable will only leave you with heartache. Establish rules with your future husband early and stand by them firmly. Let him know you draw the line somewhere.” Elena smoothed her dress and stood up.
Not long after, her father occupied the seat she had abandoned. Vaguely, Sofia wondered if the pair had agreed to tag-team her beforehand.
He didn’t speak immediately. They both gazed at Aurora’s closed coffin.
“Is there any news? About Aurora’s remains?” Sofia asked, deciding to speak first.
Lorenzo shook his head. Sofia expected him to look angry, but he seemed subdued.
Growing up, Sofia always compared her father to an immovable force to be reckoned with. The white strands mingling with his dark hair and the tired lines of his face reminded Sofia he was only human.
“Sofia, I’m sure your Aunt Elena has spoken to you about duty,” her father said, not looking at her.
“We do not need to have this conversation, Father,” Sofia answered.
She could tell her response surprised him, and Lorenzo Bianchi wasn’t an easy man to shock.
She continued and pushed out the next words through gritted teeth. “I will marry Maxim Semenov in Aurora’s place.”
****
“You look beautiful, Sofia. Like a princess, especially with Maxim’s gift,” one of Sofia’s cousins said. Silvia stood back and enviously gazed at the diamond tiara on her head. It held the veil in place.
Sofia hated it all. Maxim’s gift felt like a crown of thorns, the tiny diamonds constantly biting into her forehead. The veil was also everywhere.
Sofia wanted to claw out the thin fabric and do away with it. She disliked the dress as well, even though Aunt Elena and she spent three hours in the wedding dress shop just to pick a dress that suited her curvy body shape.
The A-line wedding dress Sofia wore cost more than what she made in three months for her freelance graphic design work.
Sweat beaded Sofia’s brow and formed on her back, plastering the uncomfortable filmy fabric against her skin.
Feeling nauseous, Sofia sat back down and gazed at her reflection. A stranger stared back at Sofia. A beautiful and frightened bride. Sofia didn’t even know how she could walk out of this temporary dressing room and face all the waiting people in the church.
Strangers she barely knew, guests from Maxim’s side of the family and hers mingling, enemies becoming temporary allies.
“Your eyeliner needs to be fixed,” Silvia was saying.
“Leave me alone for a few moments. Please.” Sofia shot her a pleading look.
Her cousin hesitated. Silvia was Elena’s oldest daughter, and Elena probably assigned her to be Sofia’s assistant today to ensure Sofia didn’t escape.
“Understood. I’ll be right outside the door,” Silvia said.
Once Silvia closed the door behind Sofia, she walked to the only window in the room. It took Sofia a few seconds to get the latch open.
The cool breeze helped her think. She breathed in and out.
Out on the street, two kids tossed a baseball at each other. Expensive cars lined the street, and they stuck out like sore thumbs in the graffiti-covered neighborhood.
The cars would remain unmolested. It seemed the entire city knew Sofia’s wedding to Maxim was today.
“Aurora, give me strength,” Sofia whispered.
Pretending to be her sister proved to be the hardest thing Sofia had ever done. The past month had been a whirlwind of wedding planning activities.