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They ignored her again. The chief guard spoke again.
“Ms. Valentina. It’s time.”
She didn’t want to go. Isotta didn’t want her to go. When they advanced on her, gently but coercively putting their hands on her, Valentina showed some resistance.
“No! Stop! Don’t touch me!”
Isotta stepped in, trying to pull the guards away from her sister. Tears flowed uncontrollably down her cheeks as she assisted in Valentina’s resistance.
The guard reached for Valentina again while some of the other guards tried to contain Isotta.
“Don’t touch me!” Valentina snatched away, but the guard and then a second guard held on firmly and began escorting her out of the room. “My stuff,” Valentina turned her head back as they marched her further down the hallway.
“No,” Isotta quietly protested, her eyes clouding over with fresh tears. Isotta loved Valentina. She didn’t want her to go. She wanted to do something about it, to intervene, to make them listen to reason, but Isotta realized just how powerless she was to change what her grandmother declared. She followed behind the guards who held her sister hostage. Isotta wanted to protest louder, but her parents stood alongside the hallway, casting disapproving looks.
“Where am I going? Are you putting me out on the street? Where am I going?” Valentina protested.
Celestina tried her best to hold it together. She knew breaking down in front of Valentina would be met with harsh chastisement. Celestina held firm even though her heart was literally breaking.
Isotta felt torn between duty and love. Yet, she immediately stifled everything she felt, swallowing her cry and drying her eyes after her grandmother gave her a look. Isotta had to be unshaken.
Duty.
The house was quieter after that. Although on the outside, Isotta put on a brave face, when she was alone in the quiet of her own room, she mourned the loss of her sister.
All memories of Valentina were removed from all the public spaces. Her room was cleaned out. Even the family portrait that once stood so prominently in the foyer was replaced. Life in the Conti household returned to normal with one glaring exception. Valentina was no longer there.
She drifted back to her present reality, mentally returning to the space she was in with her grandmother and mother examining her bridal look. She missed her sister terribly. Isotta still mourned her loss every day. Being silent about what she felt was difficult. Isotta wanted to tell her mom that she was sad. She wanted to ask her mother what had happened to Valentina. Where was she? Was she okay? Could she be forgiven and be brought back into the fold?
But Isotta knew that the mere mention of her sister’s name would yield the ire of her family, including her mother. So, instead, she continued to stand for the fitting. Celestina fretted over every detail of Isotta’s gown. There were many things Celestina had no control over. This, the dress, she could control, of course, with the critical eye of her grandmother politely suggesting things that would please her. Isotta naturally relinquished. She had no real interest in what she wore. She was already looking past the wedding to see what her life would be like with a man she didn’t know.
“It’s time, dear.”
Hearing her grandmother’s voice pulled Isotta out of the momentary trance she was in. She stood in front of the floor-length mirror, all dressed in the purest white, her hair pulled back in a tight bun with just a wisp of baby’s breath tucked near her ears. Isotta stared past herself. She faded into the background, and he emerged, the man she was to marry.
As before, he didn’t return her gaze. He looked forward but not directly at her. His jet-black hair was slicked down with a slight part on the left-hand side. His jet-black eyes held a faraway gaze. His thick brows furrowed against his tan skin. He held his mouth in a relaxed position. And then, he slowly turned his head, ever so slowly. Then his eyes came to rest on her. They were as dark as the blackest currant.
Isotta inhaled with a gasp. His eyes were laser-focused. Isotta felt like he saw through her, to her soul. She remained frozen in that moment. He held her eyes captive like a bound prisoner. She thought to look away, but his eyes dared her to drop her gaze.
And then he smiled.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was a slight smile that barely parted his lips.
“Isotta, dear, it’s time.”
She startled a little and pulled out of her stupor. Blinkingly, Isotta eyed the mirror again, trying to see if he was still there. But he wasn’t. He was gone. Isotta spun on her heels, turning her back to the mirror.
“Your groom is waiting,” her mother smiled.
Although Celestina did the best she could to keep up appearances, her heart ached for her daughter. She knew Isotta was marrying a man she barely knew. Celestina knew what that was like, the awkwardness, the sadness, leaving your home and your family to reside in a strange place with a man you barely knew, ordered to make a life together. But she couldn’t apologize to her daughter for what she was being ushered into.
Celestina couldn’t reveal her own sad feelings. Celestina had to smile.
“You look beautiful,” she uttered. “I’ll see you out there. Remember to keep your head up and smile.”
Celestina reached her arms out, and Isotta stepped into them. Celestina hugged her so intensely it caught Isotta off guard, but she quickly closed her eyes and relished the affection her mother displayed. Isotta held her mother close as well, nonverbally communicating all the things she wanted to speak aloud. Yet, she remained silent and only smiled when her mother parted.
There was no more delay. As Isotta made her way out of the dressing room, her father was waiting for her. She tried to read his face, his disposition, his eyes as she neared. Francesco tried to keep a straight face, pleasant but straight, unrevealing. The weight of his youngest daughter being married off hit him. Francesco started to falter. Isotta was his baby girl. He thought he had more time.
