Breaking Bread
1749 Words
BELLA'S POV
I woke up with a start, a knock on the door, my body has been in a fright and flight mode for the past couple of weeks, so I am quite restless.
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The small of the huge room was different from the tiny room back at Chrysalis. This smells like cedar and old stone.
Then it can rush back, the memories of earlier in the day.
My brother. The estate.
I sat up slowly, my body heavy like I just woke up from a coma, the exhaustion made my neck hurt.
How long had I slept?
I turned slowly, then I saw on the nightstand, it was 7:47 pm.
Damn. I slept the entire day. Safety really means a lot.
A knock at the door made me jump, then I remembered a knock woke me.
I cleared my throat to answer.
“Principessa?” Lucia's voice came through.
“Are you awake?”
"Yes. Come in." My voice is still hoarse from long hours of sleep.
She entered carrying a tray, using her leg to close the door, “ you missed lunch and breakfast, your brother was worried you'd sleep through dinner too”
My stomach growled at the mention of food. "What time is dinner?"
“Eight. Downstairs” Lucia set the tray on the bed. It was water, bread and cheese. “But Alessandro said you might be too tired to….”
"I'm not." I stood, stretching, I grabbed the water on the tray, I was very thirsty. My muscles ached from the escape, the travel, the emotional weight of everything. "I need to eat. And I need..." I paused. "Is he real?" I asked genuinely worried.
Lucia smiled, “he's real, and he's been pacing the kitchen like a nervous cat waiting for you to wake up” she mumbo something in Italian.
Causing me to smile, did he offend her?
The image made me smile even more despite everything.
"Give me ten minutes," I said, gulping the water, setting it down on the tray.
Lucia nodded and left.
I cleaned up quickly, changed into the fresh clothes Luca had left in the closet. It was very comfortable and cozy.
I made my way downstairs, following the sound of voices in the huge house. The smell of the food got strong as I moved closer.
The kitchen was warm, it was lit by overhead lights and candles on a large wooden table. It was way homeier than the penthouse I used to stay in.
Alessandro was by the stove, stirring the pot like he was counting each stir.
Tommaso sat at the table, reading a newspaper. Lucia was setting the plates and cutlery.
This was a perfect family, just like I have always wanted.
"She lives," Tommaso said when he saw me, not looking up from his paper.
"Barely," I admitted, moving into the kitchen. "I feel like I got hit by a truck." I made my way to the fridge to get more water.
"That's what happens when you run on adrenaline for four months and then finally crash." Alessandro turned from the stove, a wooden spoon in his hand. "How do you feel?"
"Like I slept for a week." I slid into a chair at the table. "What are you making?"
"Pasta! A very special one, Tommaso said it was our mothers recipe” he smiled proudly, obviously proud of what he just said.
“It's quite hard though, I never made it right”
"It's not that hard," Tommaso said, looking up from his newspaper "You just overthink it or simply put you are less talented when it comes to cooking”
"I don't overthink…." He countered almost immediately.
"You measured the salt three times." Lucia added.
"That's called being precise." He argued
"That's called being neurotic." Tommaso laughed at his logic.
The little banter spread something warm in my chest. This felt so real, so true, so safe to be true.
"Does he always cook?" I asked Lucia.
"Every night he can." She set a glass of wine in front of me. "Says it helps him think."
"It does help me think," Alessandro defended. "Unlike some people who just brood in silence." He shot Tommaso a look.
Tommaso shot him a glare, eyeing him,
"I don't brood. I contemplate." He said simply
"You brood."
"Contemplating is productive. Brooding is just…"
"You're both dramatic," Lucia cut in, pouring wine for everyone, "Bella, would you like to place bets on whether dinner is edible?"
I laughed at Alessandro's reaction to Lucia's words "Is it usually not?"
"Last time he put sugar in the sauce instead of salt," Tommaso said, “He said it looks alike…. Then when we teased him further, he said it was being productive”
"That was one time!"
"The week before that, he burned the garlic." Lucia said with a knowing look, directed at him
"The stove runs hot!" Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes at the petty excuses.
"And the week before that….” Tommaso was ready to go on and on.
"Okay, okay!" Alessandro held up his hands in surrender. "So I'm not a chef. But I'm trying."
"Trying is generous," Lucia muttered into her wine glass, barely audible.
I couldn't stop smiling, I actually felt bad for him. But I enjoy the warmth the conversation brings.
Growing up with Antonio was quiet. It was loving but lonely.
Marriage with Dante was... Well complicated.
It was warm at first then it went sideways.
This felt like what family was supposed to be.
"Well," Alessandro said, bringing a large pot to the table. "Let's see if I redeemed myself, you both owe me an apology if I do"
He served the pasta. It actually looked good. It smelled amazing.
We all took tentative bites, I was influenced by Tommaso and lucia comments.
We all nodded simultaneously, it wasn't actually bad, just not the best.
"Not bad." Tommaso said.
"Really?" Alessandro looked genuinely surprised.
"Don't let it go to your head," Lucia said. "It's edible. That's progress."
"I'll take it." Alessandro grinned at me. "What do you think?"
I took another bite. "It's perfect." I wanted him to feel a bit proud of himself.
"She's lying to make you feel better," Tommaso said.
"I'm not! It's really good."
"See?" Alessandro pointed his fork at Tommaso. "Bella appreciates my cooking."
"Bella's being nice because she just met you." Lucia said
"Or maybe Bella has better taste than you."
"Or maybe Bella doesn't want to hurt your feelings because you're clearly fragile about your cooking skills."
"I'm not fragile…."
"You measured the salt three times, because you don't want Bella to have the bad first impression"
"That's…that's not…" Alessandro looked at me. "Am I fragile?"
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. "I think you're... thorough." It felt like consoling a small child losing an argument.
"Thorough!" He pointed at Tommaso triumphantly. "She said thorough."
"That's just a nice word for neurotic," Lucia said, rolling her eyes, still maintaining that perfect stoic expression.
"You're all against me." He dramatically dropped his fork.
"We're honest with you," Tommaso corrected. "There's a difference."
"Honest is mean when you're outnumbered," Alessandro muttered, returning to eating his meal.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The food was good. The wine was better. The company was... everything.
"So," Lucia said eventually. "How does it feel? Having a brother?"
I looked at Alessandro. He looked back.
"Strange," I admitted. "Good strange. Like..." I searched for the words. "Like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing."
Alessandro's expression softened. "Yeah. That's exactly what it feels like."
"Very poetic," Tommaso said. "Now pass the bread before Alessandro gets emotional and ruins dinner."
"I'm not going to…."
"You're getting misty-eyed."
"I am not…" Alessandro blinked rapidly. "Okay, maybe a little. But that's allowed. I just got my sister back."
"Fragile," Tommaso coughed into his napkin.
"I will throw this pasta at you."
“ You spent three hours making it."
"Try me."
Lucia laughed. "Dio, you two. These two are arguing like an old married couple."
"We don't argue,"
"You threw a plate at him last month," Lucia pointed out.
"That was a spirited debate."
I couldn't stop laughing. My sides hurt. My face hurt from smiling.
When was the last time I'd laughed like this? Really laughed?
Not in months. Maybe not in years.
"I like this," I said quietly. The laughter faded, but the warmth remained. "I like this a lot."
Alessandro reached across the table, squeezed my hand. "Get used to it. You're stuck with us now."
I smiled, squeezing Alessandro's hand back. "I think I can handle it."
We finished dinner with more teasing, more laughter, more of this strange, wonderful normalcy I'd never experienced.
This was family. Real family. Not the twisted version Dante's world had shown me. Not the lonely childhood with Antonio.
This was what I'd been missing my whole life.
After we cleared the table, Alessandro pulled me aside while Tommaso and Lucia argued about who was doing dishes.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly. "We start training. Real training. Are you ready?"
Ready? I thought about all that have happened…. I was born ready.
"Yes," I said. "I'm ready."
"Good." He studied my face. "Because once we start, there's no going back. I'm going to push you harder than anyone ever has. I'm going to break you down and build you back up. And it's going to hurt."
"I can take it."
"I know you can." He smiled. Sad and proud at the same time. "You're a Sovereign. It's in your blood."
From the kitchen, Tommaso's voice: "Alessandro! Lucia says it's your turn for dishes!"
"She's lying!"
"I heard that!" Lucia called back.
Alessandro sighed. He headed back to the kitchen to argue about dishes.
And I stood there, in the hallway of my father's house, listening to my brother bicker with his adoptive family.
My family now.
For the first time in four months, the weight on my chest lifted slightly.
I wasn't alone anymore.
I had people who cared. Who joked. Who threw forks during spirited debates.
I had
a brother who'd spent fifteen years waiting for me.
I had a home.
Tomorrow, the training will begin. Tomorrow, I'd start becoming the weapon I needed to be.
But tonight?
Tonight, I was just Bella. Someone's sister. Part of a family.
And that was enough.
- Writer
