Before I left, I needed to visit my parents' graves one last time.

I bought two bouquets of white roses and a bottle of the Grappa that Papa loved.

When I pushed open the bedroom door, the fruit basket I had prepared was knocked over on the floor.

I had shipped blood oranges, figs, and candied lemons from Sicania. Every single item was something my parents loved when they were alive.

All of it had been half eaten and tossed everywhere.

Liliana sat on my bed clapping for her child. "Eat more, cara. It's free fruit anyway."

I rushed over and shoved her aside. "Those were for my parents! What gives you the right to touch them?"

Dante burst into the room. He only saw Liliana stumble back a step.

He slapped me hard enough to knock me to the floor.

"You're going to fight over a few pieces of fruit? It was bad enough when you threw a fit over the dowry, but now you're being cheap about fruit too?"

Liliana immediately covered her face and started crying. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Dante, did I cause trouble?"

Dante wiped her tears gently. "No. You can eat whatever you want in this house. If you want good fruit, I'll fly you to Sicania sometime."

My lower abdomen throbbed with pain. My palms and tailbone were bruised from hitting the floor.

The worst part was the blood orange smashed on the ground.

Half a month ago, I had someone from Catano ship them over. Every winter when my parents were alive, this was what they looked forward to most.

You could not buy this variety in New Yis. It only grew in the soil at the foot of Mount Eterno.

After they came to New Yis, they never went back to Sicania. They never tasted that flavor again before they died.

I stumbled out the door. Liliana's voice followed me.

"Dante, what if Serena leaves you because of me? Maybe I should just take the baby back to Gilan."

"Don't worry. She's in her 30s and got knocked up before marriage. Who else would want her if she left me?"

After that, Dante and I stopped speaking entirely.

He threw my pillow and blanket into the living room. He said it was inconvenient for Liliana to sleep outside with the baby.

The photo wall I had put up in the bedroom, pictures from every place we visited over eight years, was replaced with photos of Liliana and her child.

Three days later, Dante seemed to think I had calmed down. He drove me to a bridal shop on Mull Street.

"See if there's anything you like."

He handed me an old album. All the styles were from years ago. The sample gowns had yellowed edges.

I was about to say I wanted to try the one in the window when his phone rang.

He stepped aside and lowered his voice, but I heard him. "The funds are still short? Fine. I'll cover it."

He hung up and looked at me.

I pressed my lips together and pointed to the cheapest dress in the album. He glanced at the price tag and nodded without hesitation.

"Fine. This one. Let's get the wedding photos done quickly before you start showing."

The next day, Dante said he had an emergency and told me to get dressed without him. I stood in front of the mirror wearing that cheapest wedding dress for three hours.

The photographer pretended to adjust his equipment. The shop staff whispered among themselves.

My phone buzzed. Isabella Caruso, a friend who worked at City Hall, sent me a message.

"Is this your man? He's here getting a marriage license right now. The woman next to him is wearing a wedding dress that costs at least 800 thousand dollars."

The photo was not very clear, but I recognized that dress immediately. It hung in the center display window of this very shop, pure white Duchesse satin with hand-sewn Swarovski crystals and a ten-foot train.

It was the most expensive gown in the entire store.

I went into the dressing room and took off the cheap, wrinkled wedding dress I was wearing. It took three tries to undo the buttons.

"I'm sorry. My husband can't make it today."

The photographer sighed but said nothing.

At City Hall, Dante wore a navy suit and smiled at the camera with his arm around Liliana.

Liliana wore that 800-thousand-dollar wedding gown and the emerald earrings Carmela had given her.

I stood in the doorway. My legs felt weak.

"You canceled my wedding to come here and register your marriage with her?"

Liliana hid behind Dante and grabbed the edge of his jacket.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to wear a wedding dress once. The marriage license is for the baby."

Dante held her hand and looked at me.

"Stop making a scene. The child needs legal status. Valenti blood can't be illegitimate. It's just paperwork. Once this is done, we'll find another day to register our marriage."

While he spoke, my gaze fell on Liliana's right hand.

She wore a ring on her middle finger. Silver band, set with a small sapphire. The inside of the band was engraved with "Per sempre, Mamma."

It was Mamma's wedding ring. The one she wore when she married Papa in a small church in Catano.

After Mamma died, she passed it to me. When the wedding was canceled, the ring was still with Dante. I had not gotten it back yet.

He had given my mother's keepsake to another woman.

I walked past Dante and grabbed Liliana's hand.

"That ring was my mother's. Take it off."

"But Dante gave it to me..."

We struggled. Her wedding dress train was too long. Tears blurred my vision and both of us missed the step. We tumbled down the stairs screaming, and Liliana crashed on top of me.

"I saw Serena about to fall. I tried to help her. How was I supposed to know she'd pull me down with her?"

Liliana wore a thick wedding gown. She only twisted her ankle, but my forehead split open.

Blood ran into my eyes. My palms and knees were covered in bruises.

Dante walked over and crouched down. His hand closed around my throat. It was not a threat. He was actually choking me.

"If anything happens to Liliana, you'll pay double."

There was no concern in his eyes and no hesitation.

"I already have a son. The one in your belly doesn't matter. If you lost it in the fall, so be it."

He let go of me, scooped Liliana into his arms, and walked toward the hospital. I sat on the City Hall steps as blood dripped down the bridge of my nose.

People passed by. They glanced at me, looked away, and kept walking. No one stopped.

In the emergency room, they stitched me up with four sutures and prescribed painkillers.

By the time Dante came home, I was already in a cab headed to the airport.

Before boarding, I sent one message. "We're done. Don't look for me."

He rushed into the bedroom. The closet was empty. The vanity was empty. The photo of my parents on the nightstand was gone too.

All that remained on the pillow was a single sheet of paper, a surgical record for an abortion dated three days earlier.

Dante held that paper and all the color drained from his face.