Page 13 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

She sank into the chair and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled through the air until it reached me.

“He wants to go back to London, leave everything to Oliver.” She took another drag from her cigarette. “But Oliver doesn’t want a cent from him. They fight a lot.”

“Mama,” I said, a little louder than I’d meant to, “I don’t care.”

She laughed. “You always had a crush on that boy.” Then her smile faded. “People likeusdon’t mix with people likethem. You can chase dreams all you want, until that dream becomes a nightmare.”

“You’re right.” I forced a smile. “Dreams are just illusions we can’t afford, right?”

“I knew you were bright,” she mumbled, drawing in another drag. “Do the dishes.”

She changed the subject and turned on the TV. The news warned of an approaching storm.

“That’s what you’re good for,” she said quietly. “Dishes.”

If my heart couldn’t be torn apart any more, this was the moment it reached its breaking point. And all those scars I had spent years trying to bandage—not a single one came from my enemies, but from my own family. From the people who saidthey loved me the most, yet wanted nothing more than to tear me apart.

And I was the one handing them the knife, bleeding while they stabbed me with a smile.

1. Good morning

2. One moment, please.

3. Motherfucker

4

BLUE

It wasn’t until one in the afternoon that I finally stepped outside. The thought that Gianni might not be coming back—and that I had to find him by two—sent a wave of panic through my chest.

I remembered when we were younger. We would go to the port and light the lamp, hoping Dad would come back—that if he needed to find his way home, the light would guide him.

The part that breaks me is knowing that Dad crossed the ocean to find happiness away from me, and my brother, in search of his own happiness, lost his way home to me.

People always leave me. I got used to staying behind, holding a light in case they came back, hoping for a reason why they left. But the only thing I ever got were questions about why I was never enough.

It doesn’t change no matter how old you get. Years don’t change time; time changes you. But a hurt mind always stays the same—vulnerable.

The path I took to the port was the same one I had followed when I was five. The boat sirens sounded the same. The seagullswere still there. It was as if everything had been trapped in a single loop that never ended, yet I was the only one forced to live it all over again.

And yet again, everything has fallen onto my back. The excuses and lies I used to cover for Gianni and his mistakes. The chores I did for my mother so she could rest. And yet again, I forgot that I wasonly one person, leaving myself in last place, as usual, thinking someone would do the same for me. They never did.

I walked slowly, my eyes fixed on my sneakers before drifting toward the port. The roads here were narrow and tightly curved, almost every stretch lined with a fence for extra safety. People used to jump often, but the waves and tides made rescues too dangerous. I always kept to the right side. Looking down at the sea without seeing the bottom left my muscles locked in place. As long as I could make out what was beneath the surface, I was fine. But the moment the water faded into its darkest shade of blue, panic came, filling my head with thoughts of what might be swimming beneath me.

So I stayed close to the stone houses on the right, where the road led me to the farmers’ market. The sharp scent of goat cheese mingled with rich olive oil, while a breeze carrying the fresh fragrance of citrus grew stronger with every step.

There is a saying,Mangia bene, ridi spesso, ama molto.And that’s exactly how people lived here,eating well, laughing a lot, loving even more. Smiles were spread on every single face, laughing from the heart while they shared the food and bringing more people to try. That’s what they believed love is. People.

Spending time with strangers can make you feel less lonely.

Chit-chat filled the air, bits and pieces of conversations drifting past me. Then a thin, fragile voice I almost didn’t recognize reached my ears.

“Gabriella,” a woman called. “What brings you here?”

I turned to face a tall brunette whose dark brown eyes reminded me of a doe’s. Every time I saw her, she greeted me with a smile. It was almost suspicious how one person could wear it so often. Annie always said that was simply who she was, a ray of sunshine that drew people in without trying. That’s how my brother fell in love with her.

Isabella was beautiful, the kind of person you looked at and wondered how both sides of her face could be so perfectly balanced that it hardly seemed real. But more importantly, she was good for Gianni.