Nothing. I got no word from either Lorenzo or Lucrezia. I have implored both of them through letters that Botticelli send out for me. For months of persistence, it leads me to nothing.
He was only 7 months in my belly when he came out and any verbal confirmation of his survival is enough for me but I have not received a single response.
Their true loyalties lie in their family and since I am not one of them, I am only a simple inconvenience. I pray every day for his survival. I wasn't even able to name him. Giuliano and I never had the time.
I would have been engulfed in loneliness if it wasn't for Botticelli's visits. Talking about mythologies and history has become a coping mechanism for both of us. It would take a few more months before Lorenzo will be back in Florence and having them away made my life simpler and quiet.
I guess if I wouldn't think about them taking away my son, I would have been in a better state.
Sometimes, I wish I just left without confirming my pregnancy here. At least then, maybe Giuliano would be alive and my son would have been with me. I miss him. Even in dreams, I would see him and hold him in my arms only to wake up not remembering what my son looks like.
Did he take after me or Giuliano? Is the color of his hair as red as mine or as dark as his? I had so many questions and I do not know if I will ever find the answer to them.
"Why did you take me here?" I ask Botticelli as we enter his studio. It was filled with unfinished panel paintings and drawings, the smell of paint fills the air and Botticelli walks towards a panel he has covered with cloth.
When I finally stood next to him, he slowly takes off the clothe to reveal the portrait that Giuliano had commissioned.
Botticelli looked at the painting and said, "I have finished this a few months ago but I am not certain what to do with it. None of the Medici is here and I'm not sure if it was the right time to show it to you. I do not know if you want to keep it, so I am asking you what you want to do with it?" He then looks into my eyes filled with sympathy and compassion.
If I'm being honest, I do not know what I want to do with this portrait. As beautiful as it is, the portrait only brings out the memories I want to bury deep inside me. Every single aspect of this painting screams Medici's wealth and power.
From the detailed ornaments on my hair, down to the necklace and the dress. Giuliano commissioned it as a gift before we get married and now, it suddenly becomes nothing. "I do not know," I said. My feelings struggled to escape from my lips.
"I can keep it here until you decided what you want to do with it." He said as he covers it again.
"I'm sorry to have wasted your talents on me," I said, looking away in shame.
"I have always tried to bring out the beauty I see in my works. The beauty I see has always been constant and unfading. Painting you has always been a privilege." He was always known to be the master of beauty even when he doesn't realize it and to be given a compliment by him is overwhelming and humbling.
I can only smile, too speechless to say or formulate a response to him as he smiles back at me.
I was about to leave when I caught a glimpse of a portrait I thought I would not see again. Instead of heading for the door, I walk towards it with a look of longing. Giuliano's eyes are closed in his portrait but he captures him nonetheless.
"You love him don't you." It was more of a statement than a question.
Looking back, everything that I shared with Giuliano is both precious and horrifying at times. I feared him once and then told him that I love him. A lot can happen in a year. It can completely change the way you feel for a person and how you see them, but I no longer feel confused or blinded by grief.
"I thought I did," I said, as I remember his smiling face in my head. "I was clouded when I told him I love him, I don't regret it anyway. At least before he met his end, he heard the words he wanted."
"So you lied to him?"
"No, not really. At the time, I thought I do love him. Now that I'm no longer in fear for his safety and grief, I realized that I only felt that way because I knew something he did not. As awful as it sounds, I wanted him to have memories filled with nothing but happiness. I mistook my compassion for something more." I run my hands across the painting as I smile bitterly. "That is when I realized that you really cannot love two people at the same time with the same kind of love." When I turn towards him, his eyes are down to the floor. When I walk towards the door, he immediately held my hand to stop me from going further before I move to pass him.
My eyes traveled from his hands to his face, confused by his sudden action. "What do you mean when you said you cannot love two people at the same time?"
Sighing, I look down at the floor. I have told him how I felt, but I do not think he took it seriously. "I was not lying when I said I love you," I said. I felt his gaze on me now but I could not find the strength to look back. "It has always been you but it does not matter now."
"Do you still feel the same?" He asks, still holding my hand as if holding into something that may or may not break him.
My heart suddenly beats faster in my chest. It only knows how to love one person. "I do," I said as I look up at him. I was about to say something else when he let my hand go and cup my face with his hands before kissing me ever so gently.
The kiss was fast but pure and when we pull away, he was looking at me with love and regret in his eyes. "I have always waited for you. I did everything that I can to make you happy even if it meant that you must be with someone else. Now, knowing you still love me, I can only feel happiness and hope for the future for us both." His eyes now began to glimmer in contentment.
I love him with all my heart. I always have, and yet I knew that right now is not the right time. "You still love me even after everything that has happened?"
He nodded. "You have caused me the most pain and the most love."
Happy. I should feel happy but I am not, at least not completely. "I do love you, but I am still at a loss of who I am after I lost my son. I cannot rely on you for happiness. I know that now. I can only find it within myself. Until then, I do not think it is best that we should be romantically involved with each other."
He was hurt. I see it in his eyes but when he closes them and opens them once again, I see nothing but understanding. "I will wait then. As I always have, for I love you."
Relief washed over me as a smile crept on my face.
2 years later, Florence is no longer at war. The Medicis are back in power and their palazzo. I eventually stop sending them letters in the hopes of seeing my son. I took comfort in the knowledge that he is taken care of by the people that love him apart from me.
The cupola was finally opened. It has been so long since I have been here and I feel nothing but happiness. "I always love the view, even more, every time I see you standing there," Botticelli said.
I turn around to see him smiling. His hair is now longer than the last time I saw him. His curly browns reach the middle of his neck and his eyes are brighter than ever especially whenever he smiles. We have kept in touch even when we barely see each other. It allows me to heal, find myself, and spend more time with my family.
His smile is so infectious I could not help but smile back. "Nice to see you too," I said in a teasing voice.
He walks closer and stands next to me. He leans on the banister like he always does and looks into the city. "I probably will never get tired of this view."
Whenever I'm in the cupola, I could not help but feel as though I'm a bird flying through the city. Our hands are a few inches apart, but he inches closer to it until his hand is clasping mine while I clutch the banister.
I have yet to tell him whether I am ready or not but as we welcome freedom once again, I started to feel free myself. Free to be me once again. When I look up at him, he was already looking at me. "What?" I said.
"Just loving the view is all." He answers. Flattered, my cheeks blushed.
"It's been 2 years now," I said, looking away.
"Yes. It has." At that moment, we both knew that I meant something else entirely. It's been 2 years as well since we last talked to his studio where our feelings were bare. "Do you feel the same?"
I look back once again with a smile and said, "Yes."
"Have you finally succeeded?" He asks, his voice and eyes exuding hope.
I cup his face with my free hand and plant a kiss on his lips. Pulling away, I said, "Yes."
Looking back at me, he could only smile so wide in happiness bringing my lips to his once again and kissing me passionately and earnestly for the wait is finally over.
It's been so long since I took a stroll around the city for pleasure. Not having to think or distract me. I feel as if the weight I carried in my chest and shoulders was lifted I started to see things in much more vivid and vibrant colors.
Inside the church of Ognissanti, I was finally able to lay a red geranium by her tomb. I am finally happy. I hope she's proud of me that despite everything, I'm still here moving on with life as I cope.
While reading a book, Botticelli came by the house with a sweet smile of accomplishment on his face. He sat next to me, making me stop reading and placing the book down on my lap. "You seem happy. I wonder why?"
"I want to show you something." He then fishes out something from his pocket. When he opened his hand, a gold ring with a ruby appears before me.
"Oh my, this is beautiful, where did you get this?" I said as I pick up the ring and hold it closer to my eyes.
"I made it."
Taken aback, I look at him in shock. "You did?"
He smiles once again as he nodded. "Have I failed to mention I trained as a goldsmith before I became an artist?"
Amazed, I chuckle in awe as I shake my head yes. "Yes, you indeed fail to mention that. Why did you make this ring then?" I ask as I study the ring once again.
"For you." My heart started to palpitate inside my chest. When I look back at him, all humor left his face. Sincerity remains as he continues. "I love you. For a long time now and I would love to spend the remainder of my humble existence with you if you would accept me to be your husband."
I could not remember the last time I waited for this moment to come. Things have been so difficult for us and yet here we are, happy and content with only one remaining thing left to do with our lives for them to feel complete.
The one thing we know would make us even happier than before. With a smile on my face, I held his hands and utter the sweetest one word he is hoping to hear. "I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you, Botticelli."
In happiness, he took the ring from my hand and place it on my left ring finger, then we seal our engagement with a passionate kiss.
It was a secret ceremony. Despite my Aunt Simona and Semiramide's knowledge of my engagement with Botticelli, we both decided to marry in secret. Before we go inside the chapel, I stopped immediately by the door, unprepared with a few things left unsaid. Botticelli stops as well in confusion. "What's the matter?"
"I just want to tell you something," I said.
"What is it?"
"I want to tell you my name, the one my father has given me," I said. He then waited for me to continue, so I did. "My name is Emma Sutton."
"Must I tell you mine as well?" He said in a teasing voice.
I chuckled. "I know your whole name, Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi."
He grins wider and takes my hand to kiss it and say, "Come and marry me, Emma Sutton."
On the 2nd of May year 1480, I married the love of my life. A day I thought would never come.