Chapter 14 - THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE
A year later, Irene returned to Chicago.
Not as Irene Corv.
Not as a ghost.
But as Isabella Corvino.
She opened a language and cultural center for immigrant families.
Children learned Italian.
English.
And the old dialects their grandparents feared would disappear.
Lucia helped teach.
Tomas, recovered from his injuries, visited often.
The center became a place filled with music, food, laughter, and stories.
Aleandro supported the project financially through transparent donations.
But Irene insisted on independence.
He respected that.
Their relationship grew slowly.
They argued.
Laughed.
Disagreed.
And learned to trust each other.
One evening, Aleandro arrived at the center carrying a bouquet of white flowers.
Irene looked up.
“What did you do?”
He frowned.
“Why do you assume I did something?”
“Because you brought flowers.”
Aleandro smiled.
“Fair.”
He approached.
“I have a question.”
Irene raised an eyebrow.
“Does it involve shipping contracts?”
“No.”
“Threats?”
“No.”
“Armed men?”
“Not this time.”
She laughed.
“Then ask.”
Aleandro took a small velvet box from his pocket.
Irene froze.
He opened it.
Inside was a simple ring.
No enormous diamond.
No family crest.
Just a beautiful band.
“Irene,” he began, “you walked into my life carrying a water pitcher and told a room full of dangerous men the truth.”
Her eyes filled.
“You've been doing it ever since.”
He smiled.
“You taught me that strength doesn't have to be cruel.”
He took her hand.
“And that love isn't something you control.”
Irene began crying.
Aleandro knelt.
“Will you marry me?”
She stared.
Then smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
He stood and kissed her.
From the doorway, Lucia began applauding.
Tomas laughed.
And several children who had been secretly watching started cheering.
Aleandro looked around.
Then whispered:
“I think we have an audience.”
May you like
Irene laughed.
“We always do.”
