He sighed and exhaled sharply. In the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to be harsh to her.
“Forget it. Just leave it here and take some rest,” he said, waving her off and losing all the strength to look through the due
report.
Natalia placed the papers down but didn’t leave. Instead, she slipped behind him and gently massaged his temples.
“Don’t wear yourself out, Rafael. It’s all Gianna’s fault that she’s cruel to you.”
Rafael shut his eyes and didn’t answer. That was the lie he needed to numb the pain of losing both me and our baby.
On Harvestide Eve, Natalia twirled before the mirror, dressed in a gown heavy with gold grain and glittering gems. Ever the
pallor of her cheeks couldn’t dull the gleam and vanity in her eyes as she turned to Rafael expectantly.
“Do I look good?”
Rafael seemed carried away. In his mind, a reminder struck him that this gown should have been mine.
He could almost see me in it, how the gold would have glittered on the gown like the descent of a true goddess. It would be nothing like Natalia, who now looked like a child playing dress–up, her shoulders too slight to bear the weight of the crown.
He forced a nod and pushed down the annoyance in his chest. “Have you memorized the rites? The offering sequence, the
invocations and interactions with the elders…”
“Relax!” Natalia impatiently cut him off. “I’ve got it all in my brain now. It’s just a show, isn’t it?”
Rafael frowned. For the first time, a cold pickle of dread welled up in his chest.
The next day at Harvestide festive squares, Rafael led Natalia toward the altar through the sea of onlookers.
For her first step, she tripped on her hem, and Rafael barely caught her in time.
A hushed, stifled laughter rippled through the crowd.
For her second step, the ceremonial wheat slipped from her trembling hands and spilled to the floor as she raised the sheaf
high.
For the third step and crux of the rite, the sacred olive oil had to be poured into the brazier, and the invocation spoken
flawlessly.
She lifted the heavy golden pitcher with violently shaking hands. Under thousands of pairs of eyes, her face was nervously pale like a sheet. Her lips fumbled through the sacred words in a squeaking voice like a frightened mouse’s.
“Hurry up!” Rafael urgently hissed.
But her grip faltered, and the golden pitcher tilted a little too far before a flood of gold–flecked oil cascaded into the brazier
with a swoosh
A pillar of fire erupted into the skies, and waves of scorching heat roared across the crowd.
Natalia shrieked, dropped the pitcher, and crouched down. She was violently shaking as she hugged her head in fear.
The square fell deadly silent, except for the wild roar of flames in the brazier. The Holy Flames, meant to symbolize the family’s unbreakable prosperity, had become a grotesque spectacle.
The elders‘ expressions darkened like storm clouds as guests exchanged glances with disdain and disbelief brimming in
their eyes
Rafael watched the disaster unfold as his expression darkened. In that moment, it struck him what he’d truly lost.
I would never have failed him on such a significant occasion or made him a fool. And now, I was gone.
Without a word, he turned and returned to the festive squares, ignoring Natalia’s desperate, panicked cries behind him.
Heading straight for the cellars, he knew he had to drown himself in liquor to burn this night from his memory.
At midnight, Natalia found him a drunken wreck among shattered bottles, muttering in pain. “Gianna… My baby… My son…“
