Shadows that don't disappear

The day of my wedding became the day of my death.

The clock's hand had long passed eleven, marking that I should have left this room two minutes ago. But I simply couldn't. It felt physically impossible to stand, especially after the last half hour spent sobbing into my pillow. My face was probably swollen by now, but if that was enough to make my father or Tommaso call off the wedding, I would gladly stay like this for the rest of my life.

I could sit here forever, hiding from reality, but reality wouldn't disappear. Time stretched endlessly, like a thick fog consuming everything around me. I heard footsteps beyond the door, felt the air grow heavier. They were waiting. I had to leave. But what if I didn't? What if I simply vanished, like a shadow dissolving into the darkness?

I caught myself thinking that I had never seen Tommaso as he would be today. He wasn't the man I had chosen. Not the man I had dreamed of spending my life with. He was everything I had never wanted, everything I had never imagined for myself. But in the world I lived in, women were worth no more than a piece of meat. I had no right to anything but obedience.

The day my father announced I was to marry a man thirty years older than me, his words had sounded like a death sentence. But this was my future—the one I had to accept if I wanted to keep existing. Though in truth, my existence was already dying here, with every soulless breath I took, as the image of Tommaso at our first meeting replayed in my mind.

I hated him. I hated them both for how easily they had torn my life apart.

Tommaso — an old man whose eyes, despite their coldness, promised me a lifetime in a cage. And my father... He was no better. There was no fighting him, no pleading with him. He was stone — unmoved by words, untouched by tears.

Something inside me cracked. I was losing myself. And yet, I still couldn't force myself to stand.

The door creaked open slightly, and I felt the sliver of light spilling into the room.

I knew this was the end.

And still, I sat there, without breath , waiting for the moment when there would be no choice left to make.
My mother entered the room, followed by two of her friends. Without disturbing me too much, they began arranging things around me, preparing to get me ready. I could feel their presence, but I couldn't feel their care. There was something mechanical about their movements, something distant, something I couldn't accept as normal.

My mother leaned in, her hands cold as she reached for my hair, pinning it up carefully.

"You know what comes after the main ceremony, don't you?" Her voice was hesitant, each word slow, as if she didn't want to say them at all.

"The wedding night, Bibiana," one of her friends added. She was the one who always wore that awful, bright orange lipstick. "It's the most important part. It seals the union."

"The wedding night?" My heart pounded faster as the meaning of their words settled in.

"Every woman must go through it," she continued. "She must show her loyalty, allow her husband to claim what is his."

I clenched my teeth, trying to suppress the nausea rising in my throat. Her words felt like thorns digging into my skin, filling my head with images I didn't want, images I couldn't push away. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want these women talking to me about something so intimate as if it were natural, as if it were something I should expect.

"There's nothing to worry about, dear," the other woman reassured me. "Tommaso is an experienced man. He knows how to handle girls like you. Just don't resist too much, and it won't hurt."