Chapter 14
Mirella stopped using the cane after fourteen months.
Not suddenly.
First around her room.
Then short corridors.
Then the garden.
Blythe noticed.
“Where cane?”
Mirella smiled.
“Don’t need it today.”
Blythe looked delighted.
“Ever?”
“Maybe sometimes.”
Good answer.
Bodies do not follow story schedules.
At the next engagement dinner—someone else’s, not mine—Mirella worked part of the evening by choice.
Then sat when tired.
No one told her to stand properly.
No one told her to crawl out.
I noticed Honora across the room.
She had been invited by the host.
Not me.
Her eyes went to Mirella.
Then away.
No approach.
No apology sequel.
Respect sometimes means not reopening something because you want to display growth.
Later Honora spoke to me near the terrace.
“How is Blythe?”
“Good.”
“Mirella?”
“Good.”
She nodded.
Then:
“I’m glad.”
I believed her.
No romance returned.
No temptation.
That surprised me less now.
Understanding someone better does not mean belonging with them.
We spoke five minutes.
Then separated.
Healthy endings are often boring.
Families like mine are terrible at accepting that.
We prefer exile or reunion.
May you like
Hatred or loyalty.
Life contains more middle ground than Mafia men like to admit.
