Virgin Princess's Marriage Debt

‘Oh, Sofia. My one wish for you is not that you have someone who puts the country first, but who puts you first.’

For so long, everything had been about Iondorra. Leaving school, her first marriage, even the way she had planned her second marriage. The thought that it was even possible for someone to put her first, for her to allow that... Horror and hope mixed within the chambers of her heart, rushing out through her veins and around her body, setting it on fire with adrenaline.

Could she do such a thing? Could she really give herself over to that sense of trust...of love?

For two hours after her mother had left, with promises to return more often, to make more time for the two of them, Sofia stared at her phone.

Her heart knew what she wanted to do, and Sofia waited for her mind to catch up.

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She dialled his number, her heart fluttering wildly, and was almost thankful when it went to the answering machine.

‘Theo, I... There is so much we need to say to each other. But more importantly, I want you to know that I love you. I really do. And if you do love me, if you can forgive me the way we parted, then I will see you at the church in three days’ time. Because I want nothing more than to become your wife. I want nothing more than to stand by your side for the world to see. I want nothing more than to show the world how much I love you and want to spend the rest of my life telling you that, each and every day. If you don’t come, then I understand and will not hold it against you. I will issue a statement that takes full responsibility for the end of our engagement. But no matter what, please, please know that I love you.’

* * *

Theo sat on the stairs of his mother’s decking, looking out at his vineyards from the veranda. He fished the phone out from his trouser pocket and threw it behind him, and leant his elbows on his thighs. It had been two days since he’d returned to Greece from Iondorra and he hadn’t slept a wink. The early morning rays from the sun heated the rain-soaked earth, covering the ground in an unworldly mist, swirling in the still morning air.

For two days he had thought of little else than Sofia, of what she had said to him, of how she had accused him of being unable and unwilling to forgive, not her, not his father, but himself. The guilt that had settled about him that night had been slowly revealed as the layers of hurt and shock from their argument had dissipated. It was as if Sofia’s words had picked at an invisible thread, wound tight around his heart—as if she had tugged on it, showing him proof that it existed, that it had bound his young heart and the muscle had grown around that binding... And he could no longer ignore it.

He had tried to lose himself in estate business, but that had failed and finally his feet had brought him to his mother’s door. And although she woke early, five o’clock in the morning was perhaps a little much to be banging on her door and seeking...what? Answers? Advice? Forgiveness?

The smell of coffee hit his nose long before he detected the sound of his mother moving about in the house, and before he could get up from the wooden decking, his mother opened the door and wordlessly handed him a cup of the strong, fresh Greek coffee that he loved so much.

She went to sit beside him on the steps, and he rose in protest but she shooed him back down.

‘I am not so old that I cannot sit on the steps with my son and look at the amazing things he has done. I do it even when you’re not here, Theo. It is my favourite place in the world.’

Theo felt a heaviness within him. The weight of all the unanswered questions, of the guilt and anger and pain, resting on top of his already tightly bound heart...he thought he might actually break under the weight of it.

‘I did something unforgivable, mitéra,’ he said.

His mother humphed. ‘There is very little in this world that is unforgivable, yié mou.’

He swept a hand over his face, scrubbing away the exhaustion and doubts and all the things that worked to stop his words in his throat, and opened his heart to his mother.

‘I had this plan. This...act of revenge I wanted to take against Sofia for leaving me all those years ago. I blamed her for...everything. And all this time, it was me. I thought it was her fault, what happened to me at school, the expulsion, having to come back here... But those decisions and choices were mine—yet I would have humiliated her in front of the world.’

For a moment, his mother seemed to consider his words.

‘But you did not.’

‘Yet I would have.’

She smiled at him in the way only a mother could. ‘But you did not.’

‘The outcome will be the same. The cancelled wedding will ruin her.’

Aggeliki rocked her head from side to side as if to say maybe, maybe not, and he knew that there was only one thing to make her realise the truth of what he was feeling.

‘I would have left her, just like my father left you.’

Aggeliki sighed and blew the deep breath over her coffee before sipping at the thick dark liquid. ‘Theo, your father...he... I have not really spoken of him, because you never seemed to want to, or be ready to, hear of him. He was—’ she let loose a little laugh ‘—charming—a little like his son. Very handsome—a lot like his son. But insincere and careless—nothing like his son.’

‘Do you regret it?’ Do you regret me?

‘Agápi mou, no. I gave him my heart, and he gave me you. And I would do the same again and again, because you are my joy. He may have been my sadness, but you? You are my happiness and more precious to me than anything in the world.’