"When I get married, I'm gonna have the most beautiful dress and the biggest bouquet."

"The difference between you and (Y/N) is that you actually want to get married." 

I looked up from the book I was reading in the corner of the sitting room to glance at my sisters. I arched an eyebrow, shifting a bit to a more comfortable position in the roomy armchair near the hearth. 

"Who said anything about my 'getting married'??" I asked, a bit confused as to how their conversation had sparked. 

"You didn't hear?" Rosetta asked me smugly, making a face down at her piece she was embroidering. 

I was beginning to grow impatient and a bit worried. "Didn't hear what?" 

"Papa has been discussing the dowery with Alessio." 

My blood ran cold and my heart sank as I blinked at my younger sister. 

"But, I thought they were going to wait until the spring!" I managed to choke out, the shock from how soon my inevitable wedding seemed to be looming over my head. 

Chiara shrugged, glancing up at me from the large quilt she was stitching together. "I'm not sure, but if that's the case, they're discussing it awfully early." She gave me a sympathetic look before going back to sewing. 

I frowned down at my book, the words swimming and meaningless on the page, now. My brain was muddled as it tried to find some way, any way, out of this predicament. I thought about saying I had been seeing another man, and therefore would bring dishonor on Alessio. I knew my father would see right through that lie, though. 

I didn't even really and truly know much of anything about Alessio, either. Just that he was old and had four children from his now-deceased wife. I wasn't ready to be a wife, much less a mother to four young girls. I could barely even handle the immense pressure of being a "motherly" figure to my two younger sisters. 

With a huff, I closed my book shut and stood from the chair, deciding it would be best to sort through my tangle of thoughts without the company of my sisters. I made my way up the stairs and down the hallway, my feet slowing almost on their own when I came to pass my parents' room. I stared at the door for a moment before opening the door and quietly crossing over the threshold. 

My father had moved his bedroom to one of the downstairs studies, not being able to stay in the room that my mother had spent her last days in. Even now, things remained practically untouched. I opened the curtains slightly, blinding light filtering in in strips. Tiny dust particles flew through the air around me, and my nose scrunched up as I breathed in some of them. 

I ran my hands over some of the surfaces, sending dust flying, where they floated in the air of the room as if they were stars dotting the night sky. Nothing had been disturbed in so many years, and I was fairly certain no one had even set foot in this room since around three years prior, when my father moved downstairs. I couldn't exactly blame him for not wanting to stay in this room; there seemed to be some sort of hazy, sickening, nostalgic overlay that the room had adopted after Mama died. It made me sad. 

I shook myself out of the little daze I had settled in and walked out of the room, gently clicking the door closed behind me. 

Finally making it into my own bedroom, I abandoned my novel on my bedside table and went to sit over in the window seat. I always found it easier to think when nature was close by. Something about fresh air and the greens of life seemed to clear my head and put me at ease. Hugging my knees to my chest, I gazed out the window and prayed that the ivy trailing outside my window and the clouds drifting lazily in the atmosphere above would grant me some of that comfort, now. 

For so long, I had attempted to stay positive about my circumstances. Especially under the watchful scrutiny of my father and the influential gaze of my younger sisters. I had spent the entirety of my adult life acting as a surrogate mother and homemaker that I had convinced myself that that was what I wanted. But as I stared out of that window, I found myself beginning to doubt that. What if I wanted something more? What if I didn't want to be married? 

What if I wanted to leave?

I tensed, instinctively glancing around as if anyone could hear my thoughts and would haul me away for daring to even think about "betraying" my country. But was it really betrayal? I couldn't comprehend how they would miss a singular woman who wasn't important in much of any sense. Surely they wouldn't even notice. 

But could I really just... leave? And even if I could, where would I go? And with what money? I didn't work, didn't have a job other than to cook and take care of my sisters. The only sort of wealth to my name was whatever dowry my father had decided on with Alessio. 

The thought of the old widower made me frown as reality slapped me in the face. I wouldn't escape my fate, and would be married soon, from what Rosetta and Chiara had told me earlier. I rubbed my face in my hands, willing myself to stay focused as I tried my best to figure out some way, any way, that I could avoid getting married. 

Even if I could manage to get out of Italy, where would I go? Who could I stay with? A single woman like myself traveling and staying alone was simply asking for trouble. I didn't know of anyone outside of Italy... And then I remembered my aunt and uncle, who had moved away to America when I was a young child. It had been years since I had heard anything about them, much less communicated with them, but they were my only chance at a life outside of the one I was confined in, now. If I wanted any semblance of freedom, I would have to make a decision, and quickly. 

As I was pondering these potentially treasonous thoughts, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I turned to face it, brow furrowing slightly. Opening it, I found my father standing on the other side of the threshold. He looked uneasy. 

"(Y/N), Alessio is here to see you." 

My heart dropped. "What?"

"He wishes to speak to you in the garden. I've told him you'll be right down." 

And with that, he turned on his heel and was gone, no doubt to hideaway in his study. As he always did. 

I grabbed one of the scarlet ribbons my mother had gifted me for my sixteenth birthday and tied my hair back, noting how my fingers trembled in anxiety. Never in my life had I wanted nothing more than to disappear without a trace. At that moment, however, I knew that wasn't an option. So I took a deep breath, shoved my emotions to the side and went to meet my soon-to-be captor in a life I didn't want. 

I found Alessio in the garden on the side of the house, sitting under one of the olive trees on a concrete bench. He wore a dark suit, and his hat sat next to him on the bench, exposing his thinning scalp to the elements. His salt-and-pepper mustache was the only facial hair he had, and his cold eyes displayed an irritable, tired expression. I felt an unpleasant shiver travel down my spin when his gaze met my own. He stood from his seat on the bench, giving me an appraising glance that made my skin crawl. 

"Miss (Y/N). A pleasure to finally meet you in person." 

Much to my displeasure, the man took my hand in his, bringing the back of it to his lips and kissing it. I resisted the urge to jerk my hand away from him and instead gave him a tense, thin-lipped smile. "...Likewise."

"Your father has told me a great deal about you, but he did not do your beauty justice." 

As nice of a sentiment as that may have been, the fact it was coming from this man who had essentially acquired me as his "property" soured the compliment. I bit my tongue and resolved to be pleasant in order to get through this interaction as quickly as possible. 

Noting the awkward silence, Alessio continued, seemingly not discouraged in the least. 

"I assume he has told you about the betrothal between you and I?" he said to me, offering out his arm to me as we walked. I pretended not to see it. 

"He has." 

"Wonderful," he replied, putting his arm back down to his side once he realized I would not be taking it. "I have been at my wits' end with my daughters, and desperate to preserve my own legacy." 

My blood ran cold. "Preserve your legacy?"

He glanced my way. "Well, yes. Your father has told me about your family's genetics and how there is a very high likelihood that you will bear very healthy boys. I can see what he means, you have strong birthing hips." 

I swore I tasted blood as I bit my tongue. I was beyond disgusted, I was repulsed. Besides the age gap between the two of us, the way he saw me not as a human being, but as just a machine for making baby boys, made me not only sick, but furious. I would not spend my life being a slave to this man and whatever children he deemed I was to mother. 

"I hardly think that's an appropriate comment, sir," I said evenly, looking ahead to keep a level expression. 

There was a loaded silence before Alessio spoke again. 

"Apologies, I meant no offense. Only stating an observation." 

I wanted to slap him, to scream obscene things at him. I wanted to run and lock myself in my room, never emerging again. I wanted no part of this, and I resented my father for even considering it in the first place. I found myself wishing Mama were still here, so I could run and escape in her embrace. I knew that her loving arms around me would shelter and protect me from the cruel world awaiting outside. 

But Mama was dead, and I was left to the wolves. 

Alessio continued talking to me, though I wasn't paying attention and giving the bare minimum in responses in order to get to the end of this horrid interaction. After what felt like an eternity, the man next to me slowed his pace and stopped, turning to me. I followed suit, turning to face him. It took everything in my being to stay rooted to the spot and look him in the eyes. 

"Well, I must take my leave. I look forward to our union, (Y/N)," he told me, nodding his head to me and putting his hat on. 

I bit back a sarcastic retort as I simply hummed and gave him another thin-lipped smile. I watched him leave, waiting until he disappeared from sight before sinking onto the concrete bench from earlier. I stared down at my hands, watching them slightly tremble as I considered what had just transpired. The more and more Alessio's words reverberated in my head, the more resolute my desire to leave the country became. 

I stood from the bench, deciding then and there that no matter what, I was going to get out of Italy. Making my way back to the house, I was unknowingly taking my first steps toward freedom and a brand new life.