Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

sisters.
It’s very clear to me that Ariana’s elegance isn’t something she has to
work at; it comes naturally, like breathing or sleeping, and I can’t help
wondering who she inherited the poise from.
Certainly not her mother.
At least, not the Carmen I used to know.
Elena’s finesse, on the other hand, seems to require a conscious effort, her
interest in the arts and finer things something she’s had to force until it
became part of her personality, like some sort of Pavlovian response to the
life she’s shackled to.
There’s a thinly veiled darkness resting beneath her carefully coiffed
exterior, one that often results in bruised knuckles and bloody lips.
She suppresses it, buries it deep to make her family happy and fulfill her
duties, but it’s there, just begging to be unleashed.
Part of me is curious to know what that would take.
“Is my sister in some kind of trouble?” Ariana asks, still apparently intent
on getting to the bottom of this union. And here I’d had the younger one
pegged as the inquisitor.
Stella moves to the end of the banister, hesitating on the top step. “Ari,”
she whisper-shouts, gesturing for her sister to rejoin her. “Leave him alone.”
Her dark eyes shift down to me, brushing my gaze for a millisecond
before quickly sweeping away. She blushes furiously, and I smother a
chuckle, not sure why I find her discomfort so amusing.
Maybe it reminds me of someone.
Sighing, I shift on the bench, adjusting the flap of my suit jacket. The tick
of my watch falls behind the grandfather clock again like a heart arrhythmia,
and I clench my jaw against the sound, trying not to focus on it.
“I just think something weird is going on,” Ariana says. “Can you see
Elena marrying… him?”
“I don’t know,” Stella grumbles. “I couldn’t really see her wanting to
marry Mateo, either.”
“Yeah, but that at least made sense. They’d been together forever.”
“Were they, though? I mean, he was definitely into her, but it always
seemed like she was just going through the motions.” Stella pauses, seeming
to reflect on something. “I think this makes more sense than Mateo.”
Ariana makes a weird noise in the back of her throat. “But he loved her
—”