Betrothed To The Mafia Lord

Chapter 59

Sofia’s POV

I scrolled through my phone, through the list of results that had come up after I had looked up ‘the

things a married woman can do to pass time’ on safari. It had brought forth a bunch of things I had no

thought of doing, and most of it contained taking care of babies– where would I find a baby to take care

off? And that sounds really stressful, I wanted to do something I was going to really, really love doing.

It would have been easier for me if I had been allowed to do any of my hobbies back when I was

growing up at home, but my father disagreed the moment I had brought the topic up, even before I

could finish speaking.

And that had been the end of it for me. Until this morning when it occurred to me that I could be doing

something I like, something I’d have passion and zeal to do… Well, that is it, Luca was going to agree

and give me the permission to do it, instead of disagreeing like my father had done instantly, years ago.

I wanted to start doing something. It occurred to me after I watched Luca drive out of the compound.

He has a job to do, lots and lots of work to do. He was really important in his various places he worked

at, and let’s not forget the meetings and appointments and all that.

I wanted to feel useful too, even though it’s just for myself for now, because I obviously do not have any

friends yet and also don’t know how long I’ll have to wait until I get the opportunity to meet and become

friends with a girl I come to like.

I shifted from my spot on the couch and rolled onto my stomach before continuing to scroll down a

particular answer which google had produced after I had tried looking up another thing which was very

similar to the first one.

I was super tired of scrolling for hours and finding nothing reasonable on the internet which I could start

doing, that I really liked. Most of the things on the list were all about money and I don’t even want

people’s money. I wanted to start doing what I loved doing and it isn’t even about me making money off

people, I have more than enough money with me, and that was coming from someone who has a black

card that has no limit.

I was about to exit safari when it still didn’t end up giving me what I was looking for, when I saw an

article on the second to the last row of results and I clicked on it after a few seconds of hesitation.

What could it hurt at this point?

I started reading the article and sat up from my sprawled out position, a slow feeling of excitement

starting to build in the depths of my stomach as I read the article carefully, trying not to skip any of the

details in it from my excitement.

The article was about young girls who got married off against their will at a young age, and I happen to

fall into that particular category, which made me more intrigued in the article.

It all started with the person who had written the article explaining the pain she suffered in the hands of

her husband in the bedroom.

I paused when I got to that part and felt my heart stuttered a little, knowing that at this point, I was only

lucky to have been married off to Luca compared to someone else in the mafia– who might have made

my story completely similar to that of the woman who had written the article.

I continued the article, feeling pity for the woman who had written this article down when the bad things

she faced in her marriage immediately after she got married only seemed to be lengthening. I was

tempted to stop reading the article at a point since I didn’t want to start feeling sad and depressed on

behalf of a million other girls that have been married off against their wills, and are currently going

through hell in the hands of their husbands, compared to my own story.

Now that I think about it, maybe my situation wasn’t as bad as I used to think it was at first.

I continued to read the article and was super glad I hadn’t stopped reading at one point, because now,

the writer was introducing what those young set of girls could do if they’re in that kind of situation she

was in at a point.

She started off by vividly explaining the exact way I used to feel on most days after I got married. About

how I’d be feeling useless on most days and how it would seem like my life was slowly coming to an

end when all we had to do was to wake up, eat, prepare ourselves for your husband in the night.

My own story wasn’t completely similar to the writer’s, but the feeling of me seeing myself as

something useless and disposable because I was off no use had never left my mind completely, after

our wedding night when he hadn’t taken my virginity.

I mean, if he had done that at least, I’d have known that he probably wants me to hear him a child,

which would mean that he’d want me around to take care of his children – which means I was useful for

that one thing at least, and pretty indisposable.

Compared to me who hadn’t ever satisfied him in bed sexually– he probably doesn’t even want a child

yet, if not, he’d have done what he had to do to get me pregnant on our wedding night.

I was pretty useless to me for now.

Why was I even thinking about all these now? It wasn’t like I wanted him to come and put a baby in

me… because I honestly didn’t want that. I still felt like a child sometimes, where everything would

seem so gloomy and blurry, all I wanted on days like those was to be petted and cuddled and treated

like a child.

I had started having those carvings a few days ago after I sustained that injury and had been pretty

much dotted on by everyone, including Luca… and I had later admitted to myself that I loved that

feeling of someone dotting on me and taking care of me a lot more than I was ready to admit to myself.

So, I still felt like a child myself and wouldn’t be able to handle birthing a child and taking care of

them… that sounded like a lot of physical and emotional work.

I continued off from the part I had paused on the article and continued reading, silently absorbing it all

into my head. She started off by explaining that as a girl child, we didn’t need to only live in the

shadows of our husbands since this was a new age and the world was already lengthening their

knowledge of almost everything, except the equality of male and females.

She continued and I quote’

‘Although you’re married as a girl child, doesn’t mean all your past dreams while growing up have to

come to an end immediately. Getting married off to a man against your own will can look like that’s the

end of the world, but believe me when I say that it isn’t. We’ve all just have to make the best of what we

have on ground at the moment.’

I paused and rested my head against the backrest of the couch, absorbing all that I’ve just read and

seeing a huge point in all that the writer had written down… it was all just starting to overwhelm me a

little.

I sat up once again and proceeded to continue what I was reading, nodding my head along with the

next few paragraphs even though I was fully aware that I was reading it and that the writer wouldn’t be

able to see me through my phone screen.

‘Some of your husbands might be a bunch of assholes and honestly there’s nothing you can do about it

if they turn out to be like that. I wouldn’t lie to you or deceive you by convincing you that there’s

something you can do to change them, because honestly there isn’t. If a man isn’t going to be wicked,

he isn’t going to be and whoever amongst you girls gets married off to a nice man is one lucky girl.’

I gawked on my lower lips as the last part of the paragraph I had just read sank into my mind.

Luca wasn’t wicked.

At least, he wasn’t wicked to me, because I’ve heard way too many rumors about him to be sure of

whom to believe at this point now that I was seeing him from a different point of view as each day

passed, which were way different from the one I had been expecting to be greeted with.

He wasn’t wicked to me yet– at least, that means I was still luckier than a lot of girls, right?

I decided to continue with the article from where I had paused at and ghosted my eyes over the last NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

long looking paragraph.

‘As you’ve all seen for yourselves at this point, we’re being caged in the house almost every time,

which means there’s only a little thing we could do that they’re going to give us permission to be able to

do. We’re going to have to work with what we have at our hands. How does that work? If you’re part of

the set of fortunate girls amongst us here, these are the lists of things you can start to do. These lists of

works are not for you to take all of them seriously, they’re for you to have another more important

reason for waking up in the morning. It’s also so your whole life wouldn’t be centered around your

husband, trust me when I say that, that can be depressing as hell.’

I started to chew on the side of my lips once again as I absorbed all what I was reading, seeing a lot of

sense in all what whoever this person was had written down in this article. Although I wasn’t even up to

a week into the marriage yet, it honestly is starting to feel a little depressing that I don’t have something

I need to wake up to.

At least, compared to when I was at home, I had books I’d read and wrote tons of reviews on each one

of them during the day. I also had school to wake up to. There was also my younger brother, who was

my biggest priority whom I wake up to everyday – making sure he was fine and dotting over him as

best as I could so he wouldn't have to feel the loss of a mother’s love too much the way I did while

growing up.

I knew perfectly well that I couldn’t measure up to the amount of love and care he’d have received

assuming they had come directly from our mother, but I did the best I could do seeing as I was only

three years older than my younger brother, and completely sure that he appreciated all that I did for him

while growing up, and had always made sure to express his love and gratitude to me in the privacy of

our rooms.

I continued from where I had stopped at the article, seeing as the article was almost at the very end.

‘Those fortunate girls can pick between painting, baking or anything that was going to involve a whole

lot of effort to perfect. And then you can ask your husband if you can be allowed to do whatever you’ve

picked out. If your husband isn’t an asshole, it wouldn’t be hard for him to agree for you to start to do

something like that.’

I paused at the end and threw my phone on the couch beside me now that I had seen her ideas– a

bunch of idea which were starting to give me different kinds of ideas almost immediately.

When I had asked my father if I could start a hobby, it was about singing – I had planned to lie to him

that singing was suddenly part of my hobbies and that I’d like to grow my talent since the school was

organizing a singing competition back then, and a lot of my friends had registered immediately after

speaking to their mothers who had spoken to their fathers on their behalfs.

Of course I had tried speaking to my mother at first, but she had dismissed me immediately, telling me I

didn’t needed to grow any unnecessary said talent before sending me off to my room to go practice on

my retentive memory since our school was planning to attend a competition which they were invited to,

and I had choosen as one of the school representatives because I was one of the best in school back

then.

I had gone upstairs to cry instead because everything had felt so depressing to me, all my parents

cared about was me bringing honor to them by always bringing back home the cup.

My school ended up attending the competition and out of the five representatives chosen from my

school, three got the last positions, one got a second position and I got the first position. As expected,

father has been proud, showering me with praises which only comes if I ever make him proud by doing

extremely well in school, and so I drank the praises up, trying my best to always be the best, just to see

a smile on his face and feel his ‘said love’ for me.

Not knowing that he had only been loving me back then on a condition and I had been too desperate

for someone to love me back then… young me, what did I know?

I had been so dumb that I want to cry for the past me. Want to cry and hurt for her. Want to go back to

that school competition and carry back home the last position and see what would happen… if he was

going to hit me until stop breathing or something?

I feel so small and powerless all of a sudden.

Never in my life would I be that desperate of love.

I promised myself in my head, blinking my eyes a couple of times and shaking my head a little to get

the hair out of my face. I dragged in a deep shaky breath, sniffling in a deep breath on feeling my eyes

start to tingle and prickle, the telltale signs of tears.

I sat up once again and dragged in another deep, slow breath, determined to not let any tears fall, there

was no use crying over spilled milk after all.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” A voice suddenly called out from the back of the couch I was currently sitting

in and jolted in shock, turning around immediately and staring up at Ryan who was standing a few feet

away from where I was currently sitting, staring down at me with his signature blank expression.

“Oh, me? I am.” I replied to him and forced out a smile on my face, my cheeks starting to hurt almost

immediately because of the forced smile I had on my face at the moment.

“You don’t look fine, ma’am.” He started to say again, his position still not moving from the spot he had

been standing in, a few seconds ago. I sniffed in a deep breath and shook my head, my smile wavering

a little.

“I am. I am alright, nothing’s wrong.” I replied to him again after puffing out a deep breath, hoping my

voice had been a little firmer and sure this time, compared to the first time whereby my voice had

wavered a little.

“But you’re about to cry… there’s tears swimming in the depths of your eyes.” He pointed out, starting

to look a little bit worried and I noticed the way he took a step closer to the couch I was sitting in right

before I turned back around until I was staring down at my gown covered thighs once again, ignoring

his last statement about tears swimming in my eyes because I know it was true– and also choosing to

not give him a reply, because I didn’t even know what to say to that.

I bet I looked really pathetic to him right now, me sitting on my own and suddenly about to cry like a

little cry baby girl.

I couldn’t help it, I sniffed once, before sniffing again, at the very next second.

Maybe I really am pathetic.

Pathetic little Sofia.

I sniffed once again and swiped the back of my palm against my eyelids on feeling the tears about the

fall at the very last second, the back of my palms getting stained with fat teardrops immediately.

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Ryan's voice drifted into my ear again from above my head and I figured he

had already completely closed the remaining distance separating him from the back of the couch I was

sitting in.

I ignored his question, wondering why he couldn’t leave me be seeing as it was pretty obvious to

anyone with a little bit of sense at this very moment that I was having an emotional breakdown but

didn’t want anything to witness me break completely.

‘Go away.’ I wanted to say to him but couldn’t bring myself to push those words past my lips.

I dragged in a deep breath and wiped my hands against my eyes, collecting the second drops of tears

that were about to slide down my cheeks– before picking up my phone from where I had thrown it in,

beside where I was sitting, and pushed myself to my feet almost immediately.

I refused to meet his face nor glance upwards as I made my way out of the sitting room, but Ryan was

standing at the doorway now, and wouldn’t let me go through the doorway.

“I know something’s wrong, ma’am. Something’s probably bothering you or something. Would you like

me to get Sarah for you?” He asked and I shook my head without replying, because I knew my voice

was most definitely going to sound like that of a frog’s.

“What about Mr Ricci? Want me to call him?” He asked again and I shook my head immediately, finally

glancing up at him to find him still watching me, his usually blank face morphed into that of a concerned

expression.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” He asked slowly as a look of realization suddenly started to pass across his

face– as he was most definitely currently reminiscing about when I had agreed to go to the hospital

immediately, the moment Luca’s name had been ongoing— and also suddenly concluding within

himself that I wouldn’t want Luca to know that I’ve been crying.

I nodded my head before sniffing and rolling my eyes at him a little when the knowing facial expression

still haven’t left his face.

“Don’t tell Luca about this.” I said to him and waited as he stared down at me quietly for a long seconds

before finally cocking his head and mumbling out. “But you actually looked really distressed back there,

I am actually really worried, seeing you crying and all.”

“I wasn’t crying.” I said to him immediately, narrowing my eyes at him, knowing damn well that tears

were currently swimming in the set of eyes I was narrowing at him.

“Right.” He finally agreed, sarcasm dripping off his voice effortlessly, which made me sniff back catarrh

and tears as I rolled my eyes a little once again.

“Just don’t tell him about this, ok?” I pressed on and watched as he pursed his lips and remained silent

for long seconds once again before finally nodding his head once.

“Thank you.” I whispered to him as I started to make my way past his side but paused in my tracks as

his low voice drifted into my ear.

“Just please be fine.”

I didn’t bother replying to him as I made my way past the sitting room’s doorway, up the stairs and into

the bedroom I shared with Luca.