Chapter 10 - No More Pretending
They did not have a society wedding.
Celeste suggested one.
Then immediately corrected herself.
“Sorry. Reflex.”
Sadi laughed.
She and Roman chose spring.
Small ceremony.
Eighty guests.
The courtyard behind Olive & Ember.
Sadi planned most of it herself until Bianca physically removed the binder from her hands.
“You are the bride.”
“I am also a professional.”
“You are a nightmare.”
Roman watched the argument from across the studio.
“I agree with Bianca.”
Sadi pointed at him.
“You are not invited into this discussion.”
“I am the groom.”
“Temporary status.”
Roman raised both hands.
“Understood.”
Matteo nearly fell off his chair laughing.
The weeks before the wedding were quieter than Sadi expected.
No threats.
No scandals.
No dramatic crises.
Caruso was awaiting sentencing.
Westbridge was being dismantled.
Roman continued restructuring his businesses, closing partnerships he no longer wanted and expanding legitimate holdings.
He did not become harmless.
Sadi did not expect him to.
But he became more honest about the cost of the world he had built.
And slowly, deliberately, he began leaving parts of it behind.
Olive & Ember grew.
Sadi hired two assistants.
Then four.
Her favorite employee was a twenty-year-old named Mia who apologized constantly for taking up space.
One afternoon, Sadi found her eating lunch standing beside the supply closet because every chair in the studio’s front room had been occupied by vendors.
Sadi pulled out her own chair.
“Sit.”
Mia shook her head.
“No, Ms. Haddad, I’m fine.”
“You're not sitting near the storage room.”
The words stopped Sadi.
For one strange second, she heard Roman’s voice from a year earlier.
You’re not sitting near the kitchen tonight.
Sadi smiled.
“Sit at my table.”
Mia did.
The circle closed so quietly that no one else noticed.
The night before the wedding, Sadi stayed at her parents’ house.
Tradition.
Celeste knocked on her bedroom door carrying the emerald dress from the rehearsal dinner.
Sadi stared.
“I found it in the garment bag you left here.”
She touched the fabric.
That dress belonged to another woman.
A woman who had walked into a restaurant believing a man’s presence could make her family see her differently.
She had been wrong.
Roman had not given her value.
He had simply refused to participate when other people denied it.
The rest had been hers.
Celeste sat on the edge of the bed.
“I owe you one more apology.”
Sadi smiled faintly.
“Mom, at this point we need a subscription service.”
Celeste laughed.
Then she became serious.
“I spent years thinking love meant improving you.”
Sadi looked at her.
“I know.”
“I did not understand that I was teaching you to dislike the person I loved.”
Sadi’s throat tightened.
Celeste took her hand.
“You were never the disappointing daughter.”
Tears filled Sadi’s eyes.
“You were the brave one. I was simply too afraid to understand bravery that did not look like obedience.”
Sadi cried.
So did Celeste.
Then Bianca came in, saw them, and complained that nobody had invited her to the emotional breakdown.
Soon all three women were laughing and crying on the bed.
The next afternoon, the courtyard glowed beneath strings of white lights.
No assigned hierarchy.
No “important” tables.
Every guest sat wherever they wished after the ceremony.
Roman stood beneath an arch of olive branches.
When Sadi appeared, he forgot everyone else existed.
She could see it.
Matteo whispered something to him.
Roman did not respond.
Later Matteo told her he had said, “Breathe.”
Roman had apparently failed.
Nabil walked Sadi halfway down the aisle.
Then he stopped.
Sadi looked at him.
Her father smiled through tears.
“The rest is yours.”
That had been Sadi’s idea.
He did not give her away.
He accompanied her.
Then she walked the remaining steps alone.
Roman watched her come.
No fear.
No shame.
No pretending.
When she reached him, Roman took her hands.
The officiant spoke.
Sadi barely heard the words.
She was watching Roman.
When it was time for vows, he went first.
“I spent most of my life believing love was another word for loyalty,” he said. “Something proven by staying. Obeying. Protecting. Keeping secrets when necessary.”
Sadi’s eyes filled.
“You taught me that love is also disclosure. Permission. Choice. And sometimes being told no in a greenhouse while holding a ring.”
Guests laughed.
Sadi did too.
Roman smiled.
“I promise I will never confuse loving you with deciding for you.”
That was the vow that broke her.
She wiped her cheeks.
Then it was her turn.
“I used to think love meant being chosen by someone impressive enough to prove everyone else wrong.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“But you did not prove I mattered. You made me angry enough to prove it to myself.”
More laughter.
Sadi squeezed his hands.
“I promise to choose you without disappearing inside you. I promise to tell you when you are wrong, which will be frequent.”
“Concerning.”
“And I promise that when life becomes frightening, I will not make myself smaller just to make it easier.”
Roman’s eyes shone.
“That is all I want.”
They exchanged rings.
When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Roman kissed her.
Somewhere behind them, Celeste sobbed loudly.
Bianca whispered, “Mom, mascara.”
Celeste replied, “I don't care.”
That may have been the most dramatic evidence of change all year.
The reception lasted until midnight.
No gossip reporters were allowed inside.
No business associates Roman did not personally like.
No strategic invitations.
Just people.
Food.
Music.
Laughter.
At one point, Sadi found herself standing beside the catering door.
Roman appeared.
“Why are you here?”
She smiled.
“Checking dessert.”
“You are the bride.”
“I remain capable of dessert.”
Roman offered his arm.
The same way he had that first night.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Table four.”
Sadi laughed.
He had arranged one small table beneath a tree.
Two chairs.
A plate of cannoli.
A place card with her name.
This time it did not say staff.
It did not say daughter.
It did not say maid.
It simply said:
SADI.
Across from it, another card read:
ROMAN.
She sat.
Roman poured champagne.
“Do you remember what you said the night before the rehearsal dinner?” he asked.
Sadi groaned.
“Unfortunately.”
“You said you needed a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
“I was emotionally unstable.”
“You were specific.”
“I was crying into a tissue.”
“You still made a request.”
Sadi narrowed her eyes.
“Are you implying this entire marriage is administrative compliance?”
Roman lifted his glass.
“I am known for excellent follow-through.”
She laughed so hard she had to put down the champagne.
Roman watched her.
The lights reflected in his eyes.
Sadi looked around the courtyard.
Her father danced badly with Celeste.
Bianca and Noah argued cheerfully over cake.
Matteo had somehow been cornered by three elderly aunts.
Mia from the studio sat at a front table, laughing with the other employees.
No one was hidden.
No one was placed near the kitchen to send a message.
Sadi looked back at Roman.
“One year ago, I wanted you there because I thought everyone would treat me better if they saw a powerful man choose me.”
Roman took her hand.
“And now?”
Sadi smiled.
“Now I know I would have moved my own chair.”
Roman’s thumb brushed her fingers.
“Yes.”
“But I am glad you sat beside me.”
His expression softened.
“So am I.”
A few months after the wedding, Olive & Ember won a regional design award.
Sadi’s photograph appeared in a business magazine.
The article mentioned her marriage to Roman in one paragraph.
The rest was about her work.
She framed it.
Roman pretended not to be more proud of the article than Sadi was.
Celeste bought twenty copies.
Some habits transformed instead of disappearing.
A year later, Sadi and Roman moved out of the enormous Rossi mansion.
Not because they had to.
Because Sadi hated living in a house where it took three minutes to walk from the bedroom to the kitchen.
They bought a smaller home near the lake.
Roman complained it lacked security.
Sadi reminded him it had twelve rooms.
He called that “compact.”
She called him ridiculous.
On Sunday nights, her family came for dinner.
Sometimes Celeste still began sentences with, “You should—”
Then stopped herself.
Sometimes Roman still said, “I handled it,” before remembering Sadi would ask exactly how.
Sometimes Sadi still entered a room and instinctively searched for the least noticeable seat.
But now she caught herself.
Changed direction.
Sat where she wanted.
Healing was not a single dramatic moment.
It was a thousand small corrections.
A chair moved.
A truth spoken.
A question asked before a decision.
A no that did not end love.
A yes that belonged entirely to her.
One Sunday, after everyone left, Sadi found Roman in the kitchen washing glasses.
She leaned against the doorway.
“Roman Rossi doing dishes.”
He glanced at her.
“Do not tell anyone.”
“Your reputation would never recover.”
He dried his hands.
Then he crossed the room and pulled her gently against him.
Sadi rested her cheek against his chest.
“Happy?” he asked.
She thought about the question.
Years ago, she would have answered quickly to reassure him.
Now she answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Roman kissed her hair.
“So am I.”
Sadi looked up.
“You know what is strange?”
“What?”
“That night at the rehearsal dinner, I thought you were pretending to be my boyfriend.”
Roman’s mouth curved.
“I was.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You were pretending not to care.”
Roman considered that.
Then he smiled.
“Perhaps.”
Outside, snow began falling over Chicago.
Inside, the kitchen lights were warm.
No guards stood in the doorway.
No family waited to judge her.
No ex-boyfriend watched.
No audience existed.
Roman took her hand.
Sadi squeezed his fingers.
May you like
And because there was no one left to convince, the moment belonged completely to them.
The end
