A Wedding to anticipate
Aria Bernardi - POV
The gold print on the pastel teal background of my wedding invitation shimmered like a beacon of hope, making my heart race. I couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling a warmth spreading through me.
“We are finally leaving this hellhole, Athena!” I exclaimed, bouncing around my room in disbelief, my eyes glued to the beautifully designed invitation. The thought of being Luca’s mate still felt surreal—a dream I never thought I would wake up to.
“I told you everything would turn out just fine, Aria,” Athena said, her voice laced with satisfaction. I could feel her excitement bubbling up inside me.
“Yes, but I never imagined I would be mated to our Alpha, Athena! And that he would accept me.” I shook my head in wonder, my wolf rolling her eyes at my disbelief.
“You can never resist a mate bond, Aria,” she teased playfully, her spirit lifting mine even further.
Just then, a voice pierced through my euphoria. “Aria! Where the hell are you?” It was Mrs. Bernardi, and the urgency in her tone snapped me back to reality. I quickly placed the invitation card on my bed and rushed upstairs from the basement, my heart sinking at the thought of facing her.
As I entered the kitchen, I saw her angrily piling the sink with dishes from dinner. Her sharp gaze turned toward me, annoyance etched in every feature. “Are you deaf? Where were you?” she barked, her tone cutting deep.
“I…I didn’t hear you earlier, Mom,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked down at the floor, feeling small under her glare.
“I am not your mother. Don’t call me that again!” she yelled, and I nodded quickly, suppressing the urge to cry. “Now clean these dishes and heat up the food. I have a few guests coming over,” she commanded before striding out of the kitchen.
You only have to endure this for one more day, Aria. Once you marry Luca, everything will change. I clung to that thought as I approached the sink, the familiar scent of soap and warm water offering a fleeting sense of comfort. Each dish I washed felt like a reminder of my place in this house—nothing more than a servant.
Once I finished, I placed the food she had cooked on the table. Just as I filled the last glass with water, I heard a chorus of chatter coming from the foyer. Moments later, my father entered the kitchen with my mother and a group of guests.
“You’ve cooked up a feast, Silvia,” one woman exclaimed, and I watched my mother’s face glow with pride. The woman’s gaze soon landed on me, and she smiled softly. I returned the smile, but it felt hollow.
“Is that your lovely daughter?” the woman asked. My mother’s sharp eyes turned to me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Oh no, she’s our maid. My daughter has a dinner tonight, so she won’t be able to join us,” Mom said dismissively, her words stinging like a slap. The woman nodded, her smile faltering as she took a seat. Once the guests were seated, my mother grabbed my upper arm in an iron grip and dragged me out to the foyer.
“What are you doing standing here? Get out of the house!” she hissed, her voice laced with venom. I winced, my heart racing with confusion and fear.
“But, Mrs. Bernardi, I have my wedding tomorrow. Can I at least go and sleep in my room?” I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice as I looked up at her, hoping for a glimpse of compassion.
“You know the rules, Aria. So get the hell out,” she snapped, dragging me toward the front door and shoving me onto the porch. “I don’t care about your wedding. Don’t come back until I say so,” she whisper-yelled, slamming the door in my face.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I dusted myself off and stood up, the ache in my heart deepening. Confusion and sorrow mingled within me. Why was I being punished for a crime I hadn’t committed? It wasn’t my fault my mother died when I was young, nor was it my fault my father had taken me in.
He could have placed me in an orphanage, but to save his reputation as the gamma of the Hawthorn pack, he had taken me in. Ever since, I had been treated like a ghost—visible but never acknowledged.
I wiped away my tears and began walking toward town, each step heavy with the weight of my thoughts.
Ting ting.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw a message from my florist: *Your bouquet of lilies is ready.* A smile broke through my sorrow, reminding me of the joy that awaited me.
As I walked to the florist, I felt a flicker of hope. Luca often spoke about how his mother decorated their home with lilies, how he once found their scent overwhelming. Yet, since her passing, I noticed he had kept the tradition alive, and I wanted to honor that. Recently, I learned he was searching for red lilies—a rare color in this region—so I decided to surprise him with some.
As I strolled through town, a sense of serenity washed over me. The boutiques were adorned for Valentine’s Day, red hearts and flowers decorating every corner. It was a beautiful sight, yet it felt bittersweet. I wanted to share this moment with someone who cared, someone who saw me as more than just a maid.
Upon arriving at the florist, I noticed it was extra crowded, everyone scrambling for last-minute flowers. I made my way to the cashier, excitement bubbling within me.
“Hi, I ordered some red lilies,” I said, my voice bright despite the heaviness in my heart.
“Do you have the receipt?” she asked. I showed her the bill on my phone. “Give me a minute; I’ll get it for you,” she replied, disappearing into the back.
A few minutes later, she returned with a stunning bouquet of vibrant lilies and handed it to me. “Have a special Valentine’s Day,” she said, her smile warm and genuine. I thanked her, clutching the bouquet close to my chest as I began the short walk to Luca’s house.
With each step, my heartbeat quickened, anticipation mingling with nervous energy. As I approached the beautiful three-story wooden house, I could hardly contain my excitement. I knocked on the front door several times, waiting eagerly for him to answer.
Ten minutes passed, and my heart sank when there was still no response. I tried the door handle, and to my surprise, it turned easily. Had he forgotten to lock it?
I stepped inside the quiet house, closing the door gently behind me. The familiar scent of cinnamon and lemon filled my senses, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. He must be sleeping, I thought, feeling a mix of affection and longing.
“I think we should give this to him in the morning,” I mused, imagining his sleepy smile as he awoke to the surprise.
“Let’s surprise him now, Aria,” Athena insisted, her excitement infectious. Taking a deep breath, I made my way upstairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Each step felt like a leap toward happiness.
As I reached his bedroom door, I felt a surge of joy. I opened the door slowly, my smile widening in anticipation. But as I stepped inside, the bouquet of lilies slipped from my hands, falling to the floor as my heart plummeted.
