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Luce had been the most romantic, attentive partner she’d ever known–tied of man who made her feel like the center of his riverte, had been patient and playful with Nice, who always found ways to make a smile. But there was a line she couldn’t croes, a place where she no longer mattered: his family. When it came to them, he would become bbornly blind, unable to see their enmity, refusing to deford her question their unkindness. To them, she was an outsider, someone unworthy of him, and tusea could never bring himself to those hat mor
them.
Three years ago, when Nico was only a few months old and she could no longer endure the constant scorn from his family, Amber made the painful choice to leave. She hadn’t truly believed, though, that Luca would let her go. She told herself it was a final plex, a desperate attempt to get his attention after so much silence, so much neglect. He had stood by, blind to her pain, while his family criticized and dismissed her. while they looked at her as though she were an intruder in her own marriage. And he had done nothing. She was left to fend for herself agains a relentless wave of criticism, trying in vain to hold onto her sense of self.
In her heart, she thought that leaving would open his eyes. She imagined that once he realized she was gone, he would wake up from his indifference, that he would come to his senses and follow her, beg her to come home, promise to shield her from the family’s cruelty. She wanted him to feel the loss, to feel even a fraction of the pain she had been enduring alone. She’d imagined him on a plane, showing up at her door in the States with apologies and promises, with that tender warmth she’d once known.
But looking back, she saw it for what it was: a naive, desperate hope that he would finally choose her, choose their small family, over his family’s expectations. Instead, she had only walked out to find herself truly, heartbreakingly alone.
He hadn’t come. The story should have ended there. But like she said, she was stupid naïve fool, clinging to the hope that he would see sense and return. For a month, she waited, checking her phone for missed calls or messages, hoping against hope. The silence was broken only once, by a single call the night she left. She could still hear his voice, cold and angry, lashing out, accusing her of overreacting, of shaming him, of putting their son through this. She could almost feel the weight of his disdain in each word. Then, there was nothing.
Christmas came and went, the silence growing louder and colder. As New Year’s Eve approached, she thought he might still be hurting, that he just needed time to cool off, to recognize how much he missed her and their son. She had convinced herself that he loved her, that he simply needed to come to his senses. He loved her afterall.
Turns out, he didn’t. And the truth hit her with brutal finality at long last. On January 2nd,. A friend, out of concern, had sent her a photo from an Italian newspaper with a headline splashed across it: “The Power Couple Back Together? The Nine–Month Affair, Over?” There was Luca, arm–in–arm with his former fiancée, Carlotta, smiling at some glittering New Year’s Eve party as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
She stared at the image, the story underneath filling in the ugly details. Carlotta, elegant and radiant beside him, looked every inch the woman. she’d once been sure she had replaced. Her stomach twisted as she read the speculative words about Luca’s supposed “temporary affair,” casting her entire marriage as a fleeting diversion. Every vow he’d ever made, every promise, every tender look, suddenly felt hollow–a ruse to keep her placated when he learned she was pregnant. She realized, in that awful moment, that he had never intended to love her. She’d been a chapter, a secret he could close when it suited him, and he had moved on without a second glance.
That night, she’d cried until there were no tears left, until every sob had wrung her dry. She let herself empty out every betrayal, every broken
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Lace didn’t want, only solled in that wedlixing way of his and procade to order a feast. When the waiter returned, Luca cattled off a list of
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As servers arrived to combine two tables into one, just to fit the plates that would soon arrive, Amber felt her chest tighten with emotions she thought she’d buried. He had done this once before. She’d been six months pregnant and ill with nausea, listless and unable to keep anything down, losing weight when she should have been gaining it. Luca had looked at her back then with that same, unreadable intensity before ordering everything he thought might tempt her: Moroccan rice, Indian naan, Italian gelato–even a Caesar salad from a place across town, which he’d claimed would cure her nausea. He’d ignored every protest, determined to make her eat, sitting beside her until she had no choice but to take a few bites.
Sitting here, Amber felt the weight of that memory collide with her resolve. She could feel it cracking, that ironclad vow she’d held for three years, and a betrayal of tears threatened to surface. She fought it, drawing her breath, but there was a new, raw ache opening up inside her. This man who had once cared so deeply, who had memorized her every quirk, her cravings, her aversions–he had abandoned her in a
heartbeat.
She had never hated him more.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
