The morning sun paints the windows of Milan's buildings with its light. Aurora Rossetti leaves the hospital accompanied by her parents, who look relieved to have their daughter back. In the young woman's eyes, there is determination, but not the arrogance with which she treated others on Sabrina's advice. A memory of the old Aurora invades her mind: "A young woman as important as you cannot speak to the servants, it makes you lose class." Her fists clench; that young woman had been manipulated by that harpy. In her former life, she dealt with vermin like that, only at that time they were cunning men.
She feels some shame seeing the clothes she is wearing; her attire is the same as always: a set of bright sequins, a fuchsia blouse that is too eye-catching, and tight pants with a fluorescent leather print. Her style is excessive and ridiculous. But she doesn't care, because soon she will demonstrate how much she knows about class and fashion. She must make it clear that she is not that rude disguise that has been shown to the world.
When she arrives at the car, a driver she has known since childhood opens the door for her. He observes her for a moment, wondering if he should say something. But Aurora surprises him with a different expression. Instead of her usual disdain towards the man, she smiles at him kindly and, in a serene voice, says:
"Buonasera, Giuseppe," she greets with a slight nod. Thank you for waiting for us.
The man blinks. Miss Aurora... greeting? With respect. No orders, no arrogance. He nods, somewhat confused.
"Buonasera, signorina. The car is ready."
The young woman sits in the back seat, constantly looking at her hands, as if she could find in them the answer to the questions that form in her mind.
During the journey, her parents, still processing recent events, do not speak. The silence is tense, almost palpable. Aurora simply looks out the window, observing a city that seems so different from what she once knew and, yet, so the same. She finds the electronic billboards, the bright screens, the sounds of traffic vulgar. And at the same time, she feels in her fingers the rhythm of this new era, as if each vibration of the car spoke to her in a language she is just beginning to understand.
Upon arrival, the gates of the property open with their usual metallic creak. The mansion rises imposingly, majestically, surrounded by gardens that smell of lavender and rosemary. When she gets out of the car, she greets the guards with a slight nod.
"Good morning. I appreciate your work."
One of them opens his eyes, unable to hide his surprise. Aurora had never spoken to them, much less with respect or with that way of speaking, as if she were an aristocrat.
The house seems the same as in the memories of the body she now inhabits, but something inside has changed. Upon crossing the threshold, she is greeted by Bianca, the housekeeper, with her head bowed.
"Miss Aurora, welcome..."
"Bianca," she interrupts gently, "grazie. Would you accompany me to my room?"
The woman looks up, visibly confused, but nods. As they climb the stairs, Aurora glances at her.
"How long have you been here?"
"Since you were eight years old, signorina."
"Then you know me well."
"Yes, signorina."
"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to get to know me again," she says with a soft smile. The woman observes her, and agrees with her very much; this is very similar to the girl she once was, before entering high school.
Once in her room, Aurora sits in front of the mirror. She observes her reflection: a vulgar neckline, inappropriate heels, remnants of garish makeup. She smooths her hair with her hands and murmurs:
"This is not me... this cannot continue like this."
She gets up annoyed and opens the closet. All there are are flashy garments, some even offensive to good taste. Despite not being up to date with the times, she knows that they seem like happy woman costumes. She slams the door shut, exasperated.
"Aurora, dear, how are you feeling?" asks her mother, entering the room with a look full of concern.
Aurora looks at her, and for a moment, she feels a mixture of nostalgia and regret for how that dedicated mother was treated by an ungrateful daughter. She can no longer continue speaking with that dismissive tone, with that air of superiority that made her look like an unbearable child.
"Mother..." she begins, in a soft voice. "I'm fine. In fact, I'm better. I've been thinking a lot, and there are things I need to tell you. Things I never dared to say."
Her mother observes her, surprised by her daughter's tone and calmness, something she had never heard before.
"I don't know what has happened to you, but it seems you have changed. What's wrong, dear?" she asks cautiously.
"I've been thinking a lot about what I did. And..." A slight sigh escapes her lips. "I'm sorry. I've failed you, myself, and everyone around me. I never realized how I was behaving. I was selfish, inconsiderate. I let myself be carried away by the emptiness. But that will change, Mother. I am going to change."
The mother cannot believe what she hears. The young woman, who had previously been so distant and moody, now seems like another person. She doesn't know whether to be happy or afraid, but something in her words inspires confidence. Aurora, in an unexpected gesture, hugs her with a tenderness she had not shown for a long time.
"Thank you for not giving up on me," Aurora murmurs. Her mother nods.
"Rest, darling, and in a while, we'll sit down to eat, does that sound good?"
Aurora nods and lies down. Her mother leaves the room, confused but happy about the big change.
The young woman walks to her huge bathroom. Even in her time, she thought she had luxuries, but this seems like a dream. She undresses and gets into the tub. The water relaxes her body. She allows herself to breathe and think about everything that has happened. She doesn't understand how she is alive after having taken her own life.
When she leaves the bathroom and takes some clothes, she goes down to the dining room. Dinner is served. It is a long, mahogany table, polished with care. Three place settings, as on nights when the family pretends normality. Aurora sits down silently, letting the garish dress speak for her.
Her mother observes her as if trying to read her soul. The father, on the other hand, seems more inclined not to break the silence. In fact, it is not common for them to eat all together.
Aurora takes a spoonful of soup. It smells of basil and tomato. Warm. Simple.
"This... reminds me of midday in Tuscany. When the wind pushes the aroma of the orchards through the windows."
Her mother blinks, confused.
"Have you been to Tuscany?"
Aurora smiles. No, she hasn't. But Giuseppa from 1762, yes.
"Let's say I've read enough to feel part of the landscape," she replies, trying to get away with a smile.
The father puts down the cutlery and finally speaks.
"Aurora, this is... strange. We see you differently. More... mature? Your way of speaking is different. Do you really feel well?"
"I have made mistakes, Father. Many. And I have paid for them. But not everyone who falls breaks. Some of us reform. I am ashamed of the way I treated you. You, the staff, even myself. And yes, I am well."
The mother lowers her gaze. Aurora notices how her eyes become moist.
"Do you mean that... that you are willing to change?"
Her father observes her, attentive.
"I want to recover the honor of the surname I bear, Dad. Not out of obligation, but because I have discovered that it belongs to me more than I thought. You have carried it with dignity. I only added scandal and shame."
Her father approaches her.
"Don't say that, baby. I know we don't have the best relationship anymore, but I love you, and it hurts me that you talk like that."
She smiles; she loves that moment. She finally has the father's love she longed for in her other life.
"I know you can change. We all must. We are here."
After that emotional moment, dinner continues more smoothly. The heavy atmosphere is no longer felt. When finished, Aurora helps take the dishes to the kitchen, despite the staff's protests. She asks for a wooden board and onions to learn how to chop them. Tiziana teaches her how to hold the knife. She laughs when she cries from the smell. For the first time, the staff hears her laugh without sarcasm.
"Signorina, I think that's enough for today; there is still time to cook dinner," says one of the cooks with a smile. Aurora nods, also smiling.
She walks to where her father is and says, smiling:
"Tomorrow we could go for new outfits."
Her mother chuckles.
"New outfits?"
Aurora realizes that she must better organize her memories of the past with those of the present.
"Well, Mother, I need to change my wardrobe. How can you let me dress like this?"
Her parents shake their heads, laughing.
"We've tried everything, but I see that your amnesia won't let you remember," says her mother and takes out her cell phone to search on the company's page.
"Come on, let's see the things you like from the brand's current collection, and tomorrow we'll go to one of our stores to pick everything up."
Between the two they look for class, elegance, structure. Straight-cut trousers, silk blouses, earth tones, also bright but not extravagant, discreet jewelry. She already knows what she wants. She knows what a Rossetti should look like. A lady, not a caricature.
She returns to her room ready to sleep and turns off the light. She sits at the window. The sky is starry. She takes a deep breath.
"Thank you, Aurora," she whispers to the reflection in the glass. "For teaching me that nobility does not come with the cradle, but with decisions. Tomorrow... the real change begins."
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