Gioia has a sweet tooth and hates sour flavors. The kitchen must prepare a sweet dish with every meal.
Gioia gets cold easily. Have the fireplaces lit in her rooms by September.
Gioia is afraid of the dark at night. She likes to fall asleep in my arms.
I love Gioia so much, so much, so much. Remember: never let her cry.
They say the written word never lies. So how could all this love, overflowing from every page, be nothing but a lie?
I tore through the pages one by one, ripping without mercy.
My gaze caught on an ornate wooden box. Something compelled me to open it.
A delicate portrait of a woman, all soft curves and coy beauty, had been tucked carefully into a hidden compartment. Along the edge, in small, unassuming script, were the words:
"I wish to be the sparrow nesting in the eaves, so that morning and evening, we may always be together."
"The fifth of October. The year we were married."
I sank to the floor, my vision blurring before I could stop it.
That was one month after our wedding. His heart had already strayed by then.
I was a fool. A complete and utter fool.
The dishes on the table had been reheated again and again. I waved my hand, signaling Rosa to clear them away.