Chapter 3

It was done. They had skipped the name parts, so I still had no idea who he was, but I felt I could trust him. Maybe it was wrong for me to think that. Party was over. Now he was taking me to our brand new house: a gift from his parents. Though, we had to stay in their house, they thought we could use some privacy until we got to know each other. I didn't know where the evil Queen I met went because she wasn't part of the party. It was only my husband's mother, always so kind and gentle. Even her tone learned me that she was being sincere when she said she was happy for us. Although, getting to know each other better was, indeed, a good idea. I had agreed and my family as well. I'd miss my siblings but they promised they would come and visit sometimes. I knew they would.

The house smelled new. The walls were soft and it felt amazingly expensive. "Now, do I get the chance to know who you are?" I asked. I had been tortured by this thought. Literally. Why wait now? There was no turning back, now. I couldn't free myself from him, we were married. What was so awful about him he had to wait after our wedding to tell me his identity?

I almost yelled when he first kissed me. I had never been kissed before. It felt incredibly... new, sweet and lovely. It was a quick one, but I had had the time to feel the softness of his lips and the warmness of his hand on my neck. "Yes. I shall tell you now that you are my wife." I heard him taking a deep breath and I wondered why it was such a big deal. And when he spoke, I knew why. "It's me, Javier. Don't tell me you've forgot all about me."

I froze. I hadn't forgotten about him. I never would. It was impossible for me to. Even if I had tried, I couldn't. He was the boy who bullied me when I was a kid. Whenever I got out, he was there, trying to make me trip over anything he could possibly find. He used to be my worst enemy. I was so scared of him that I didn't dare to go outside. One day, it had stopped and I had stopped wondering about him. Why would I have kept thinking about him? He wasn't worth it at all. And now, I was his wife. His goddamn wife! He had me fool until the last second. I just needed to get out of here. I needed to get away from him. I was tongue tied, unable to say a single word and scared to death. "Your silence tells me you haven't," he concluded as I took a step back, all shaky.

"How could you do this to me?" I yelled. "You hated me and now, we are married? What is wrong with you? Are you out of your freaking mind? You could have picked anyone, anyone, but you chose me. Why? Did you want to make my life another hell? When we were kids wasn't enough, you just had to come back and haunt me now because you saw that I was getting over you and all the things you ever told me." This was so insane, I wasn't able to think properly. This shouldn't have happened. My prince shouldn't have been Javier. Because this guy … he was everything but my prince. He might be a prince, but he definitely wasn't mine.

He sighed. "I never hated you. I was just too … blind to see what I can see right now."

The fact that he used the word "blind" bothered me so much and it made me even angrier. He has to be kidding. He can't be serious. I can't truly be his! "What do you see now that you didn't before? Because I am still the same blind girl you used to make fun of when you were little. Do you know how hard it was for me? And now, you dare to ruin my life, once again," I hissed.

I needed to understand but at the same time, I didn't. I only wanted to get rid of him. I didn't want him. I didn't want to be married to him. I didn't want anything to do with him. Every single thing he had said was a joke to him. He had just done it to kill me—metaphorically speaking. That … I couldn't handle. I took a few steps back and pushed him as far as I could, disgusted I had kissed him—and liked it. He laughed, but it was a sad laugh. The sound flayed my ears. I shook my head, as if I wanted to get rid of a little annoying mosquito—but he was way worse than a mosquito. "I am being serious. Ever since I saw you, I am obsessed with you."

"I don't give a damn about it. I'm serious. I want you to cancel the wedding. If you thought we were something, you were wrong. We are over."

"This isn't how things work," he said. "You can't undo it. It's done and we're married until the end." The little bastard. I'd murder him if I could only see where to drive the stick through.

"I. Want. You. To. Undo. It." I repeated.

"No," he refused. "I'm not going to. You're my princess from now on and that's it. You know, I've been watching you. I'm not stupid. If I had never told you who I were, you never would have guessed. And you would have loved me. You should thank me I've told you the truth or you would've lived in a lie your entire life."

"The guilt would have crushed you ..." I pretended to think. "Oh, I forgot. You don't have a conscience."

"Are you really playing sassy card on me, Didyme?" he asked.

And I frowned. Who did he think he was? He ruined everything. Everything. It was all going fine and he just ruined it. I was supposed to marry a prince, I was supposed to be happy and live happily ever after with someone that didn't mind me being blind. That's how things were supposed to be. But of course, I couldn't get a little slice of the happy pie without Javier, taking it away from me.

"Unlike you, I'm not enjoying hurting people," I replicated.

He sighed, as if I had hurt him. I couldn't hurt someone who had no heart. "Well, I'm not like that. I've changed. I swear, I've changed. You have changed too, I saw you growing up, turning into this beautiful wife you are today." I didn't let myself take the compliment with a smile. I stayed still and wondered why he was still lying to my goddamn face. Maybe I couldn't see him, but I still could hear the lie. And I hated it. Why did he keep his eyes on me this whole time? Why couldn't he just let me go? Why couldn't he free me? All I needed was to be away from him. He had made my life a living hell when I was a kid. And my girl's heart and brain would never forget it … nor forgive it.

"You stalked me?" I said.

"No, no," he started to say. "Well … I guess I have."

"It is … creepy!" I screamed.

I heard him trying to get to me. I took a step back, with one hand in front of me to keep him away and one behind me, so I wouldn't trip on anything. "Don't you come near me! You make me sick," I told him.

He didn't laugh. Not this time. His footsteps had stopped. He did listen to me. It may be a sign. It wasn't. He was just playing around with me like he always had. "I … I should have told you. But I was scared you wouldn't want to marry me after that," he told me. He had a quite good reason to think that way! He was out of his mind if he truly thought that I would have willfully married him.

He seemed sad. His voice was. I couldn't let him do this to me. I couldn't feel anything for him, it was impossible. How could he fool me like that? "You bet I wouldn't! Now you dared to do it. There is no 'us!' I don't want to be your wife. I could act in public—for my own family—but I won't talk to you. Lucky I can't see you, because I never would have looked at you again."

My voice was calm, but my words were violent, and they were meant to hurt. "I have changed! I am not the kid I used to be anymore. Just give me a chance to prove it to you," he begged me.

"I know you haven't. People don't change."

"I have. See for yourself."

"Too bad I can't actually see," I replied madly.

"You know what I mean," he said. "I have been nothing but a gentleman to you. It is true and you know it."

He was right about that. He had fooled me big time. I even bought it! It was unbelievable. "You have. Only so you can fool me harder after."

"Can't you believe I changed?"

"I did once and you slapped me in the face twice harder so, I don't. Not for now," I said. "And never again."

He had fooled me twice when we were kids, pretending he had changed and he had hit me twice harder each time, hurting me more every time. I had learned my lesson: never trust that man again. He had hurt my little girl's heart. He would never hurt my woman's heart again. That was a promise. "Fine. But I haven't given up on you. Just so you know. Since you don't want my help, let your maid help you. You can't say no to that."

For a second, I was tempted to say no, but I said yes. I needed help. I heard him leaving and someone else stepped in. She helped me with everything and I went to bed early. I didn't fall asleep quickly—my mind was filled with confusion—but I ended up sleeping well. When I woke up in the morning, the maid washed me, dressed me up and led me to the dining room. "Is he here?" I asked her while she helped me to sit. I didn't even bother to be nice—or try to be. If he were here, he could hear how angry I still was. It didn't make much difference, he already knew.

"He is, but he won't talk," she answered.

I nodded. She helped me to eat and I felt useless. I think that it was eggs. It tasted like that, but there was something more, like … salt, pepper, and a sip of sugar … maybe maple syrup. And there was some fruits; oranges and apples, already sliced so it'd be easier for me to eat. I wondered if they were sliced for him, too. Probably not, he didn't need anyone to eat … unlike me. I dropped some sip of food—because the maid and I weren't coordinated yet—and I probably looked gross. I was embarrassed he saw me like that. It wasn't new. I was always embarrassed when someone saw me like that. Even though Father had told me that I couldn't be like everyone else, I always tried to prove him wrong—but I ended up getting tired of it—but when I ate … when I ate, I really felt like a piece of garbage only good to be thrown out. I had tried, but I couldn't eat alone. Well, there was some stuff I could, but meal like that, I couldn't. It was too sloppy, I didn't know where the food was and I, sometimes, couldn't put the food right into my mouth without dropping food or sauce everywhere. I always felt like hiding whenever it was time for me to eat. That was the only thing I was ashamed of, as a blind person. Nothing else mattered, but this … This was so humiliating. When I was younger, I used to skip meals, pretending I wasn't hungry when I was, in fact, starving. My older sister thought I was going through an anorexia phase and she literally freaked at me, screaming and yelling, saying how bad it was for my body to starve like that. It took me weeks to tell her the truth. When she finally understood that it wasn't because I was trying to get skinnier, but because I was so embarrassed about not being able to eat on my own, she tried to make me feel better about it. But she didn't success. I didn't think I could ever feel comfortable about having to be fed by someone else every day of my life, three times a day. She had reminded me that I couldn't dress up all by myself either. But—go figure!—this didn't bother me. Well, it sort of did, but it was nothing compared to how annoyed I was about the food thing. And, yet, there I was, seated in front of the man I had just married, already messing up everything.

"Don't worry," the maid said. "He doesn't mind. He says you look … lovely," she told me.

Lovely? Was he kidding again? The maid touched my shoulder. I turned to her even if it was useless, it felt like I wasn't so blind after all. "He wants to know if he can talk to you."

I didn't even bother to think before answering. "No."

He sighed, but I heard nothing else. He didn't protest. I finished to eat quickly—well as fast as the maid seemed to be able to handle her newest job. I got up and didn't wait for the maid to help me. I accidentally kicked the table and heard a growl. "My coffee," he mumbled.

He must have had coffee all over his expensive pants. I didn't say anything but smiled inside. There was nothing to say and it wasn't the time to laugh in his face. I just stared—or tried to. I was amused to think he could be embarrassed. The maid caught up with me. "Wait, I'll escort you to your room," she offered.

"No. Take me to the balcony. After that, we'll visit the house so I can memorize how many footsteps to each room," I told her, "so I wouldn't have to rely on you."

"I don't mind. I'm paid for that," she said.

I smiled. Paid to "drive" me around. Poor girl. She would be glad I free her. She first took me out and I carefully counted the footsteps it took. Ten right, then fifteen straight, twenty left, three straight and door, step out. I wasn't sure if I would be able to do it again myself, but I wanted some … privacy. I wanted to be self-sufficient. I couldn't rely on someone for the rest of my life—if I could, I didn't want to.

A week passed, and soon a month. I knew how to get to each room, I could eat without getting all dirty—well as I had been told but that didn't mean that I didn't need the maid anymore—and, best of all, I was able to feel when Javier was about to get in the same room than me so I could avoid every possibility of contact. There was none. I didn't want to create one single opportunity for him to tell me more of his bullshit. I had heard enough throughout the years. I had had enough. More than enough, should I say.

Aro came to visit me that day. I was happy to "see" him, even though everything else was just a mess. "Hi, sister. How are you doing?" he asked as I let him in.

I didn't answer right away. I was focusing on counting the steps until the room where we could sit. "Sit," I told him, showing him the room because I truly had no idea where were all the seats. I only knew one place where it was possible to sit, and I usually sat there. But since I knew the other seats were close, it wasn't all that bad.

I sat and tried to touch his hand but he grabbed mine first. "You're unhappy," he said. It wasn't a question.

"How could you not tell me who he was?"

"I thought you'd be over it and Father made me promise." Was he really going to use that lame excuse? Did he really think that I would buy this? How many promises did I break myself only to please Aro? Too many to count them all. And he wouldn't even do it for me? When I was about to get engaged forever? Well, too late, now, I felt like screaming. But I didn't scream. I shouldn't let him know how upset I was. He didn't deserve to get my anger because I knew it wouldn't make him mad; it would only please him. He used to like when I was in pain. I thought he had changed, but maybe this little side of him was still there, deep down there.

"You should have told me," I said, instead.

"What difference would have been made? You would have married him anyway, we both know that."

"I am not saying I wouldn't have. For once, I wish I could see, so I could punch you in the face." I had never been truly violent, but I was actually willing to do it right now.

He laughed. "Do you really want to see again, sister? Because I may have found a way," he said.

See again? I had never considered that possibility but God knows how much I wanted it. And now, I wanted it more than anything. If I could see again, I'd be independent. I wouldn't need anyone. I realized that I really wished I could see again. Well, again, I didn't remember the last time I had seen something. Ages ago, probably—if I had ever seen once which I couldn't even remember. Not being blind would bring me freedom. I'd be more normal. And for the first time in days, I felt hope.

Since I hadn't said a thing, he touched my arm. "I'm not lying. I've been looking for things to help you out."

Sure he had. That was his way of asking for forgiveness for what he didn't tell me. What a thoughtful manipulative, my older brother. Although, he had always helped me or at least, wanted to, it felt different this time. It felt like … like he wanted it as much as he thought I wanted it. Why would he? Being blind had made me dependent of him. I had to rely on him for things and I knew he liked it. But seeing again … that was probably the best gift someone could ever give me.

I took a deep breath. Maybe my days in the dark were over. I really hoped they were because I was done with darkness, I needed some light. "What have you found?" I asked.

"You won't like it, but it's the only way."

"What is it?" I repeated. I hated it when he acted like that, teasing me so I'd beg him to tell me what his genius head had got in mind.

"I know someone who could heal you," he said.

"Why wouldn't I like it?"

"You'd have to move. It's in Italy."

"It's right beside here," I told him.

"Your husband won't let you."

"Oh, he will. Trust me."

"We should leave in a week. Convince him."

"Will we ever come back?"

Aro stayed silent for a moment. "That, I can't guarantee." And the double meaning of his sentence could be anything but missed.