"You`re drunk again, aren`t you?"
The question was clean, simple. The sound of irritation and anger in her voice didn`t even seep into his skin and he simply shrugged it off. No longer did the poison dripping from her voice affect him... He's had it more than not. Oh, yes. That was the relationship of Manfredo Soderini and his wife. Don't get him wrong -Cristina Soderini was beautiful, that she was. But that`s probably the only quality Manfredo seemed to like about her anymore.Â
Only being married for a few months, he could quickly tell it was a mistake. Cristina was smart. She had the money for a tutor and affection between them died down quickly once he realized her wit and cunning. She could retort back and leave him speechless. She could beat him at a game of wordplay. Cristina made him feel inferior, for he could never beat her at anything. She knew when he lied and her instincts was always right. Manfredo didn`t even want to think about the night she ended up saving his ass from being kicked out of a bar. (He never did thank her for it, for he knew the only reason she did it was to save their reputation.)
"Manfredo, are you even listening to me? Honestly...!"
No, he definitely wasn`t, Cristina.
"Can you shut up for a moment?"
Then she started to yell. What a marriage. He was called disrespectful, rude, and obnoxious. She cried out in an angry rage, "I swear, if it weren`t for father, I wouldn`t be near you at all!" He shoved her in response. That only got her to yell more as she slapped his hand away. She threatened him, cursed at him, hissed at him. And he shoved her more and more, until she was in the corner. The impact of the shove made the picture frame tilt just a bit. He didn`t even care about the fear in her eyes.
"Amore mio.. Shut up for a moment?"
That was when she ran off for the night, deciding to stay at her friend's house. She ordered a second bed and decided to never sleep in the same bed as him anymore. The drunk he was, he didn`t even remember what he did and his eyebrows furrowed the next morning. Half of this was due to his head splitting hangover. The other half of this was because his bed was so cold.
"Amante? Amore? Cristina?"
But it was too late - for she was only his by name. No longer was her heart his. Then again, he figured it never was in the first place.Â
[(ooc; Basically, I wrote out Cristina and my headcanon. They were once in love. They attended parties and flirted. They had wonderful conversations with Lorenzo and whoever else. But in the end, Manfredo's still a deadbeat. He's never touched her since. Cristina runs away before he can. BAWWWW. UH.)]
