Chapter 156: One Step at a Time

ARYA'S POV

The makeshift office was warm and comfortable.

Dad didn't want me to leave the estate so he arranged a space in the guest house for me and the therapist to do our sessions.

Dr. Elena Rossi sat across from me with a notepad resting on her knee.

"How have you been sleeping this week?" she asked.

I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. "The medication is helping. I only had nightmares twice instead of every night."

"That's good progress." She made a note while nodding her head. "And during the day? The dissociative episodes?"

I sighed and leaned against the plush couch. “I caught myself zoning out yesterday, but I was able to pull myself back."

"That's significant improvement, Arya.” She was smiling brightly now, “you should be proud of yourself."

I didn't feel proud. I felt numb but at least I wasn't constantly reliving my trauma.

"I know you're concerned about the medication," Dr. Rossi continued, as if reading my mind. "That you don't want to become dependent on it."

My lips curled into a slight smile. "I don't want to need pills just to function like a normal person."

"The medication is giving your brain the support it needs while we work through the trauma.” She reached forward to pat my hand, “eventually, you won't need it anymore."

I wanted to believe that someday I wouldn't need the pills to sleep or therapy sessions three times a week just to get through the day.

"Let's talk about Marco," Dr. Rossi said gently.

A week ago, hearing his name would have sent me into a panic. Now, I just felt a dull ache.

I leaned forward. "What about him?"

"You killed him.” I flinched when she said that but her gaze remained locked on me. “In self-defense, but you still took a life. How are you processing that?"

I took a breath. "I don't regret it. He was going to hurt me. I did what I had to do."

She didn't say anything yet my mouth couldn't stop moving, eager to let go of the knot in my chest.

"But I still see his face. The way he looked at me when I…" I sucked in a breath, fiddling with my fingers. “I just wonder if there was another way. If I could have just knocked him out or escaped without killing himm"

"There wasn't another way," Dr. Rossi said firmly. "Marco gave you no choice. What you did was survival, Arya."

Tears pricked my eyes. "Then why does it still feel so terrible?”

"Because taking a life, even in self-defense, is traumatic.” She said softly, “feeling terrible about it doesn't make you a bad person.”

We sat in silence for a moment while I processed that.

"There's something else I want to discuss," Dr. Rossi continued. "Giovanni."

My whole body tensed. "I don't want to talk about him."

She gave me a chiding look which I ignored. "I know but avoidance isn't healing. And from what you've told me, he's going to be part of your life whether you like it or not.”

Although I knew she was right, I couldn't help the tightening of my chest. Giovanni might be Dante’s father but that didn't mean I had to have a relationship with him.

He deserved nothing other than my anger.

Because if he just believed me and hadn't locked me up like an animal, none of this would have happened.

I turned my face away and she sighed then consulted her notes.

“Enzo's wedding is this weekend.” I resisted the urge to groan. “Your parents told me that you received an invitation."

I shrugged and responded sharply. "I'm not going."

"Why don't you want to go?" She leaned forward and asked.

I shot her a dark glare, speaking through gritted teeth. "Because Giovanni will be there! He's the best man! I'd have to see him, talk to him, pretend everything's fine when it's not!"

"Or," Dr. Rossi said calmly, "you could go and prove to yourself that you're strong enough to be in the same room as him without falling apart.”

"I don't need to prove anything!" I snapped before I could help it.

She cocked her head to the side. I didn't like the knowing glint in her eyed. “Don't you?”

I refused to answer so she continued. “Right now, you're letting your fear of Giovanni control your choices. You're hiding from him and that's giving him power over your life."

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit.

"Going to this wedding would be a huge step forward," she continued. "It would show yourself that you're healing.”

She took my hand and squeezed, I sucked in a deep breath. "You're stronger than you think, Arya. Stop hiding.”

The session ended shortly after, but her words stayed with me.

I found Dante in the nursery, sitting on a play mat surrounded by colorful toys.

Rosa was folding laundry nearby, but when she saw me, she smiled and quietly excused herself.

"Mama!" Dante's face lit up, and he reached for me.

I sat down on the mat and pulled him into my lap. He immediately grabbed my necklace, fascinated by the way it caught the light.

"What are you playing with, baby?" I asked, watching him.

He babbled something incomprehensible and showed me a wooden block.

"That's a very nice block. Are you building something?"

He babbled more and I could see that he was happy.

Dr. Rossi's words echoed in my head. “You're letting your fear of Giovanni control your choices.”

Was I really going to skip Jasmine's wedding just because Giovanni would be there?

What kind of example was I setting for Dante? That it was okay to hide from difficult things?

"What do you think, baby?" I asked, even though he couldn't understand. "Should Mama be brave?"

Dante just smiled at me and went back to playing with his blocks.

The next morning, I found Mom and Christabel in the fitting room, surrounded by dresses.

"The lavender one would look beautiful with your skin," Mom was saying, holding up a dress for Christabel.

Christabel pouted. "But I want something more dramatic! Like the emerald green!"

"You're fourteen.” Mom chided, “you don't need dramatic-”

They both froze when they saw me in the doorway.

I stepped into the room. "You're getting ready for the wedding already."

An awkward silence fell.

"We can stay home," Christabel blurted out. "If you don't want to be alone. We don't have to go."

"Yes, we can," Mom agreed quickly. "It's no problem at all."

"No." I took a breath. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm going."

They both stared at me in shock but I ignored it.

"You're… what?" Mom asked.

"I'm going to the wedding. If the invitation is still open."I moved toward the array of fabric samples spread across the bed. "My therapist thinks it would be good for me. A step forward."

"Are you sure?" Mom’s voice was full of concern. "Giovanni will be there."

I picked up a piece of midnight blue silk. "This would look nice, don't you think?"

Mom just stood there, frozen, like she couldn't process what was happening. But Christabel's face broke into a huge grin.

“Yes! Oh, Arya, that color would be perfect on you!" She started grabbing other fabrics, holding them up. "Or this emerald! Or the burgundy! Or-"

"Slow down," I actually laughed. When was the last time I had done that?

I held the blue silk up to myself and looked in the mirror. I was going to this wedding and prove to myself that I was stronger than my fear.

"This one," I said, holding up the blue fabric. "I want this one."

Mom finally unfroze. She came over and hugged me gently. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

I snorted. “Don't be proud yet. I haven't actually done it."

"You've decided to try.” She whispered against my hair. “That's more than enough."

We spent the next hour looking at more clothes, with Christabel providing enthusiastic commentary on everything.

For the first time in weeks, I felt almost normal.

Then one of the maids knocked on the door. "Miss Arya? These just arrived for you."

She held out a beautiful bouquet of white roses and a small card. My good mood evaporated instantly.

I didn't need to read the card to know who they were from. Giovanni had been sending flowers and letters every other day since I come home.

But I refused to look at any of them.

"Throw them away," I said.

The maid hesitated, then nodded and left with the flowers.

I turned back to Mom and Christabel, who were watching me with worried expressions.

"I'm going to the wedding," I said firmly. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to forgive him.”