But happiness feels strange inside me now. Like something I remember from another life. Something I can still recognize, but no longer touch.
Eleonora’s wedding is two months away. And now, because the alliance has been secured, everyone is already speaking of Camilla’s wedding too.
Camilla’s dress. Camilla’s bridal dinner. Camilla’s place beside Alessandro Gallo.
Camilla’s prison.
My throat tightens.
I close my eyes and press one hand against my stomach, trying to breathe through the guilt that rises so quickly it almost chokes me.
This is because of me.
Not because of Eleonora. Not because of Camilla. Not because of fate or duty or the cruel rules of our world.
Because of me.
I was the one promised to the Gallos. I was the daughter meant to marry Andrea. I was the one raised for that sacrifice, trained for it, warned about it, prepared for it in a hundred silent ways since I was old enough to understand what marriage meant in our world.
But I ran.
I ran with Domenico.
I chose love. I chose freedom. I chose one stolen chance to belong to myself.
And now Camilla has to pay for it.
The thought slices through me so sharply that I have to grip the window ledge to stay upright.
My sweet Camilla. My gentle, soft-hearted sister, who still believes peace is something you can earn if you are kind enough, quiet enough, obedient enough. Camilla, who cries when servants are dismissed unfairly. Camilla, who leaves pastries outside my door when I refuse to come down for breakfast. Camilla, who has spent the last month smiling too brightly whenever anyone mentions Alessandro, because she thinks pretending not to be afraid will make the rest of us feel better.
She is not made for a man like him.
And she should never have been forced to become my replacement.
A bitter thought tries to surface — it should have been me — but it does not come from envy. It comes from guilt so deep it feels like punishment.
It should have been me because I was the one chosen first.
It should have been me because I knew the role.
It should have been me because Camilla is innocent.
I am not.
In our world, women are expected to remain untouched until marriage. Pure. Silent. Perfect. Never alone with a man who is not family. Never wanting too much. Never choosing for themselves.
Men can do whatever they want. Lie. Kill. Betray. Take lovers. Break vows before they ever make them. And still, they sit at tables and decide the worth of women.
But a woman takes one step outside the rules, and she is ruined forever.
I know that better than anyone now.
I broke every rule.
I spent weeks with Domenico. I slept in his arms. I gave myself to him completely, recklessly, desperately. At the time, it felt like the only honest thing I had ever done. He was my escape. My choice. My freedom.
I do not regret loving him.
