6. MARRIED LIFE

"Sorry, I don't know you," I replied, a hint of fear in my voice.

"Bella, your father's name is Santiago Sardino, and he is Mr. Sardino's son. They conduct business with my parents," he explained, now stepping out of the car and approaching me with a smile. "Come on, don't be shy. Get in; I won't bite."

I hesitated, glancing around for a taxi, but none were in sight. With a heavy sigh, I conceded to my exhaustion. I really did yearn to return home for a relaxing bath and some sleep. Sensing my indecision, he swiftly gathered my suitcases and bag from my grasp and placed them in the back seat, then opened the passenger door for me. After a moment's pause, I addressed him.

"Since you insist, I'll accept your offer." It seemed he truly was an acquaintance of my grandparents.

I settled into the passenger seat and cast a sidelong glance at him. He was strikingly handsome. His eyes were a deep, intense black, mirroring the shade of his hair, which featured a rebellious lock perpetually falling across his forehead. It only added to his allure. His physique suggested meticulous care, and his constant smile, as he chattered nonstop about his travels, betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Before I realised it, we had arrived at my new house. I was taken aback—I hadn't given him the address. In fact, I hadn't known it myself until a message had informed me just moments ago. Had he seen the message, or had my grandparents provided him with the details? Could my grandfather have sent him to look after me all this time? Was he a bodyguard? If not, it seemed he genuinely knew us, although I couldn't recall ever having met him.

"Thank you so much," I said.

I thanked him without even inquiring about his name. I retrieved my bags myself, not waiting for his assistance, turned my back, and entered my house. I could sense his gaze lingering on me until the door shut behind me. Should I have invited him in? Perhaps I should have sought to discover who he was and how he knew me.

Glancing out the window, I noticed he was still there, standing on the pavement, staring at the house. What was he expecting? For some reason, my heart was racing. Who could this boy be?

The new house, a gift from my grandparents, is very beautiful and, most importantly, well-lit, just as I prefer. Upon entering, the first thing you notice is an enormous mirror flanked by vine plants on each side. There's a small table with drawers beneath it, and atop it sits the vast vase I've always admired in my grandparents' home. I smile, recognising my grandmother's touch in these details.

The subsequent living room is remarkably spacious, furnished with a beautiful flowery set that I can't believe she remembered. I once mentioned liking it during one of our shopping trips because it reminded me of a blooming garden. And I still do.

I continue my exploration, ascending a beautiful white marble staircase to the second floor. "Why ever did they make so many rooms?" I wonder. There are indeed many; I open each one as I pass. They are spacious, with enormous beds that are tastefully decorated, and each room has an en suite bathroom complete with bathtubs, just as I always mentioned to my grandfather. I am delightedly surprised; they have realised every wish I ever expressed for my dream home throughout my life. It's a pity—if my marriage were genuine, I could have found true happiness in this house crafted with love and spent the rest of my days here.

Descending to the first floor, I note that if the second floor was replete with rooms, the variety of salons and living areas below is equally abundant. After leaving a capacious room, I stroll down a corridor and, to my immense delight, I discover a beautiful library. "This has to be the work of my grandfather!" I tell myself as I pick up a new book and inhale the scent—I adore the smell of books! I spend some time reviewing the collection, confirming that it includes many first editions and all the books I've accumulated since childhood. It's fantastic!

Leaving it behind, I continue until I find the door that opens to the most spectacular greenhouse you could imagine. I suspect this was my grandmother's idea. It must have been her! She knows of my love for orchids, and the walls are adorned with an endless array of them in bloom—it's a dream come true! I stroll slowly through the space, which at first glance seems small due to the sheer number of plants but is actually quite expansive. I follow the trail of orchids, astonished to find so many varieties. Most astonishingly, they are arranged in the same order as a book of paintings I have cherished for as long as I can remember. Excitedly, I take out my phone and message my grandmother.

"Thank you, Mima, the greenhouse is wonderful!"

My grandmother cannot speak. After an operation to remove a cancerous thyroid tumour, she lost her ability to do so. She continues chemotherapy to combat the disease. She replies immediately in her usual way.

"Do you like it?" she writes.

"I love it! And the house too, though it's a bit much," I type back.

"That was your grandfather's doing." She sends another message shortly after. "Do you like the rocking chair?"

"Rocking chair?" I reply, puzzled.

"Yes, at the end of the greenhouse."

"I haven't seen it yet. I'm following the orchid path; they are beautiful, Mima. How long did it take you to collect them all?"

"I had them in my greenhouse. Whenever you liked one, I had your grandfather search for it. I'm glad they're in bloom now. Keep walking, and after the jasmine, next to the fountain, you'll find the rocking chair. It's in the brightest spot; I think you'll love reading there."

I continue on, phone still in hand, conversing with my grandmother who, though she can't speak, can listen, read, and write. At the end of the path, just beyond a rose bush, I see it. It's incredible!

"Mima, I absolutely adore it!" I write, brimming with excitement.

"I knew you would! May you find happiness, my girl. Come to see me when you can," she responds.

"I'll come this afternoon, Mima."

"Alright, my dear. I'll let you go now. A kiss."

"A kiss, a hug, and my heartfelt thanks."

I slip the phone into my pocket. Now standing before the rocking chair, I see it is wide enough to lie down on perfectly, with very soft cushions. On its sides are little tables adorned with books and sundry items. I sit down and lean back, noticing a huge fan on the ceiling—grandfather's touch, no doubt. I allow myself to sink into the chair with a smile. It's perfect!

I adore the rocking chair and know that I will spend much of my time in this house right here; it has quickly become my favourite spot. My attention is drawn by the soft murmur of water to a fountain at the far end. The sight takes my breath away—I can't believe it! The statue is of me as a ten-year-old, alongside a taller boy. I study him; he seems familiar. I close my eyes, trying to remember who he might be, but no one comes to mind.

Though he is handsome and his smile beams at my slightly annoyed expression—I can't help but laugh—it must have been Grandfather's doing again, instructing the sculptor to capture me in such a manner. Could it be Luis? No, it doesn't resemble him at all. I'll have to ask Grandfather when I see him—who is that boy?

Everything is so beautiful, silent, perfumed, and enchanting that it fills me with joy. The rocking chair is bathed in light, and the scent of the flowers is intoxicating. It has become my favourite place! Glancing at the time, and with much regret, I return to the interior of the house. Upon entering the corridor, I notice a door to my right bearing my name. I open it.

Inside is a vast room filled with all my belongings, and in the middle of the bed is a sign that reads:

"I knew you wouldn't want to live on the second floor, as you confessed to me on your wedding day. Therefore, I prepared this room for you here as your sanctuary.

Congratulations, my granddaughter, and remember, if you need me, I'll be there in a second.

With love, your Grandma."

Overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude—especially upon noticing the sturdy bolts on the door—I immediately grab my phone to reply.

"You are the best grandfather in the world!" I exclaim. "Thank you, Grandfather, I love you with all my heart too."

"Are you pleased with the house?" he asks.

"Very much so. Especially this safe room you've prepared for me."

"Did everything go well with your good-for-nothing husband in Paris?"

"Yes, yes, Grandfather, don't worry. Luis behaved very well."

"Are you sure? Remember what I told you—if Luis does anything, let me know immediately."

"Grandpa, don't worry. Luis and I are getting along fine. He hasn't mistreated me; he respects me and caters to my every need."

"I'm glad to hear that. But keep your eyes open, even if you don't trust him, alright? He may be in love with you or perhaps with your money—which is more likely. Initially, he will show his true character..."

"Abu..."

"Okay, I won't say more. I'm pleased Luis is treating you well. Perhaps I'm mistaken and he has changed because he's in love with you, and there won't be a need for a divorce. Be happy, my granddaughter; you deserve it. And never forget, you're not alone—you have us, okay?"

"I know, Grandpa. Please stop worrying. Seriously, Luis and I are fine—better than I expected. I'll see you later; after I rest for a bit, I'll come by, okay?"

"That's fine, have a rest."

Though I had confided in my grandfather that I was getting married, it seems he believes we are a genuine married couple. I'll leave it at that; it's probably for the best he thinks so. This room is truly beautiful. Needless to say, I've settled in quite comfortably—it's very secure and on the ground floor. I do hate climbing stairs!