Valentina De Luca
With my engagement approaching, Dante has stopped bringing guests into the house, which has made my life easier. In moments of solitude, when Graziela locks herself in her bedroom, the men are working, and I keep my distance from Fiamma—avoiding deciding napkin colors the way she wishes—I can quietly slip into the library.
I have been studying the room, pretending to miss academic life, and ever since I was here with my father and Paolo, I can no longer see the place as merely a storage room for books nobody has ever opened. I wanted to find dust, an old table, and books begging for every secret someone once poured into their lines to finally be discovered.
But the dark wooden furniture is just as oppressive as the rest of the house—not because of its color or architec
