Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 102

Chapter 102

Aria’s POV

I stand at the window, my heart hammering in my chest. It’s been an hour since the doorbell rang, and I still can’t bring myself to open the door. I know who it is. I know those flowers are from them–Enzo, Matteo, Dante. The triplets. I should feel something, anything, but all I feel is a heavy ache in my chest.

I glance down at the bouquet sitting at the doorstep. Red roses. Again. It’s always red roses. I know why they do it, I know it’s supposed to be romantic, but it just feels like a reminder of everything I’m trying to leave behind. Of everything that’s broken.

Enzo’s voice comes through the door again, soft but clear. “Aria? Are you there?” He doesn’t call out in anger or frustration, just a quiet plea. It tears at me more than it should. I can almost hear the hurt in his voice.

I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m not ready to face him, or any of them, not yet. Not after everything. I press my back against the door and close my eyes, letting the silence swallow me.

A few minutes later, I hear his footsteps on the gravel outside. I peek through the curtains and see Enzo walking away. He’s left the flowers by the door, his figure disappearing around the corner. I don’t move, don’t even breathe, for what feels like an eternity.

When the sound of his footsteps fades into nothing, I finally make my way to the door. My hands are trembling as I reach for the handle, as if the act of opening it will somehow make everything feel real. It’s just flowers. But they’re not just flowers. They’re everything. They’re hope, they’re guilt, they’re apologies I don’t know if I can accept.

I slowly open the door, and there they are. The roses, perfect as always, sitting innocently on the welcome mat. A simple note is tucked beneath the petals. My fingers shake as I pick it up and unfold the paper. The words are brief, but they cut deeper than anything Cassandra has

said.

“We’re waiting. We’ll always be waiting.”

It feels like a punch to the stomach. The words are sweet, meant to comfort me, but they only make me feel more alone. More trapped. I can feel my eyes start to sting, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not yet.

I close the door slowly, leaning against it. My hands grip the roses tightly, almost painfully. The note crumples in my fingers as I stare at the flowers, my chest tightening with every second. I don’t know if I want to throw them away or keep them as a reminder of how much I’ve lost.

I walk over to the table and place them down carefully, trying to avoid looking at them too much. But I can’t help it. Every time I see the roses, it’s like I’m reminded of how badly I want to believe in them, ‘in us. How much I wish I could forget everything that happened.

But I can’t.

I break. The tears I’ve been holding in all day spill over, rolling down my cheeks as I sink into the chair beside the table. I sob quietly, not caring how much time passes. The pain in my chest doesn’t ease. It’s only growing, and I feel like I’m suffocating beneath it. I clutch the roses to my chest, as if holding them will somehow make everything better, but it doesn’t.

I don’t know how long I sit there, the minutes stretching into hours. The room is silent, save for the soft sniffles and the sound of my own breath. The flowers remain on the table, a constant reminder of everything I’m trying to escape.

Eventually, there’s a knock at the door. It’s soft at first, almost hesitant, but then it comes again, louder this time. I don’t even move. I don’t want to answer the door, not right now. Not when I feel this broken.

It’s Grace. I know it is.

I finally drag myself to my feet and open the door. Grace stands there, her face full of concern. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t have to. She pulls me into a tight hug, and I collapse into her arms. I can’t speak. I don’t even know where to begin. Grace doesn’t force me to. She just holds me, letting me cry until there’s nothing leff but exhaustion.

After some time, Grace steps back, “Let’s go get coffee,” she says gently, trying to coax me out of this numbness. I nod. I don’t want to stay

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Chapter 102

here, trapped in my own thoughts any longer.

We drive to the café in silence, and I’m grateful for it. The quiet is comforting. I don’t want to talk about it, not yet.

When we walk into the cafe, my eyes immediately land on Cassandra and our mother. They’re sitting at a table near the window, laughing and talking, as if nothing has happened. As if everything is fine.

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