From Castoff Daughter to Donna This Time, You’re the Ones Kneeling

Today was supposed to be my engagement day.

Salvatore Romano should have been the one to put the ring on my finger in front of the whole family. We’ve known each other since the first time I picked up a gun to practice shooting. Everyone said we were a perfect match, destined to be a powerhouse duo in business.

I’d already smoothed out the front of my cloak countless times and glanced at the door again.

Still, no one was there.

No one showed up — not my parents, not my brother Luca, and not even Salvatore.

Only I stood there, alone in the silence.

I pulled out my phone and checked it for the ninth time. No new messages. My finger hovered over Salvatore’s name, ready to dial again.

The phone rang three times before it went to voicemail.

I stared at the screen, unsure whether to laugh or throw my phone at the stone wall.

Just then, a family announcement popped up on the screen:

“Welcome home, Francesca Moretti.”

The video automatically began playing.

There they were—my family. All of them. Gathered on a cruise ship at the port of Palermo. My father’s smile was radiant, my mother’s eyes glistened with tears, and Luca was twirling Francesca around. Even Salvatore stood behind her.

Francesca’s golden hair shimmered in the lantern light. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Salvatore, as though she was meant to be there.

She always had been.

A searing pain pierced my chest.

After a moment, my phone vibrated again. This time it was Salvatore.

“Don’t be so emotional, Adriana,” he said in a dry tone, as though I had called to complain about the weather. “We can do the ceremony later. Francesca just got back from a marijuana plantation in Colombia—”

The call was cut off.

I stared at the screen, my nails itching to dig into it.

The ceremony hall around me was still silent, the petals of lilies gently falling to the floor.

I looked at the bouquet sitting on the table. I’d painstakingly tied it together this morning, looking forward to holding it during the engagement ceremony. Now it sat beside me like something I didn’t deserve.

I tossed it to the floor and stomped on it.

When I returned to the family estate, the house was filled with noise.

People were grilling in the backyard, and the scent of Francesca’s perfume — roses and sweet leaves — wafted down the hallway, almost overpowering everything else. Laughter echoed from the main room. The sounds of celebration, loud and unrestrained.

No one noticed when I quietly slipped in through the kitchen door.

I made my way to my room, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at the list in my journal. A simple list, detailing every time I had been forgotten, ignored, or overlooked.

At the bottom, I added a new entry:

Engagement Ceremony — No one came.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

The door creaked open, and Luca walked in as if he owned the place.

“You’re here,” he glanced at me, then added casually, “Francesca wants your frittata, something spicy—she says she misses the way you make it.”

I stared at him, my hands resting on my knees.

“You missed my engagement ceremony.”

Luca blinked, then shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a ceremony. You and Salvatore can do it next month, or the month after. Francesca’s back, Adriana. We haven’t seen her in a year.”

He picked up my journal and began flipping through it without even asking.

“You’re still writing this stuff?” His eyes landed on the new page, where the bold heading read:

Final Warning.

He snorted. “What’s this? Are you planning to do something about it?”

He tossed the journal back on the bed. “Make the frittata, Adriana.”

I slowly stood up and walked past him toward the kitchen. As I pulled the dough and meat out of the fridge, my palms stung — the new soap, Francesca’s favorite brand and scent, had made my skin red and irritated.

Luca stood behind me, leaning against the wall, watching me with a smile.

“What’s so quiet?” he asked. “Planning on poisoning her?”

Before I could answer, Francesca’s voice rang out from the main room.

“Luca! Chestnuts!”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Coming,” before turning to leave, not sparing me another glance.

I placed my hands under cold water, watching as the redness slowly faded into a pale pink. My gaze, however, drifted to the countertop.

There sat the engagement cake I had ordered, still perfectly intact.

Beside it was the engagement ring, sealed in its velvet box.

I didn’t cry.

I just stood there, staring at these things that were supposed to be important.

My heart had been quiet all day, but now a voice in my head grew sharp:

“They made their choice, and I will make mine!”

I looked out the window. Outside, the dark trees of the forest swayed in the night breeze.

Francesca was back. She had everything.

And me?

I wasn’t going to wait anymore.