trust
'You are not listening to me, Gabriella,' Vicente calls out, his boots marching across the room as he approaches her. she was freaking out. pacing around the room. one point of the wall to another. staring at her future husband and then at the man who was allegedly dead. recently found her reaction adorable. at least she wasn't screaming or trying to call for help. at least she was not acting irrationally. it was reasonable. she was scared and in doubt. because at the end of the day Gabriella Santiago had watched from a window as the mafia king of Venice lived and mourned the death of the man standing right in front of them at that moment. and she had watched him break apart. turn into nothing but a shell of a person. broken.
