07
“Matteo…” I hushed his name with my controlled emotion of being irritated. “I know you hate the Corvinos and Volantes, I feel that. Even though I don’t know your reasons at all… still, that’s not my business to dig on. I hope you get what I mean, Do what makes you happy and satisfied and so let me do my business. Alone!*
* Inniar” Matton firmlu paid se ha fallowed. “I know unutra plannina na nat marnäna him ” ha addad calmlu which
The Second Chance for a
“I know,” Matteo firmly said as he followed. “I know you’re planning on not marrying him,” he added calmly, which made me stop walking
Who told Matteo that? It was just Mama that I informed.
“Don’t overthink.” Matteo chuckled, flashing his set of white teeth. “Let me say that I know your plan of escaping for it was the usual thing the scorned woman do when they were cheated by their beloved.”
“Uh–huh?”
“Yeah…” He nodded. “And I’m here suggesting some additives plans for I know how complicated that will be for you so… you know, I can’t just stand by and say nothing.”
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You don’t understand anything about me, Matteo! Whatever I was plotting, it’s not that simple right but I already made sure of its success! So for the nth time. Just fuck off!” I turned and walked away from him. Hoping he won’t follow anymore.
“You deserve better, Damsel!” Matteo said loudly that I puffed out some air irritatedly. “You deserve someone
sees you! Who values you! Not someone who’s too busy with some bitch and disregarding a gem like you…” he whispered his last sentence as I was already in front of him.
And that made me forget what to rebut. The part of me that had been fighting to stay strong for so long wanted to collapse into his arms, to let him take away the weight I’d been carrying. But another part of me, the part that had built walls around my heart to survive, refused to let him in and see my weakness.
“I have to go,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me go, Matteo. Alone. I need to be alone.” He nodded, stepping back. “If that’s what you want.”
*Thanks. “I turned and walked away, my steps quick and purposeful. But I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was leaving something important behind. Matteo’s words echoed in my mind, stirring emotions
When I reached home, the house was as empty as I’d left it. The final page of the calendar stared back at me, a silent reminder of the day to come.
Tomorrow wasn’t just the last day before the wedding. It was the last chance to decide what kind of future I
wanted–and whether I was brave enough to take it
I woke up with another plan in my mind. I wanna spend my last day before the wedding so I will be strolling at the Flora Park and I hope Matteo won’t follow me. I admit that he helped me more with my escape plan with his suggestions when we were in a café two weeks ago but that’s just it. Still, I didn’t tell him what I was really planning
I looked around the park. The place where I held many memories of mine with Lorenzo when we were teenagers.
I bought my last ice cream of the night, a strawberry cone, and strolled out of the park as the warm lights behind me faded into the distance. I found a bench near the fountain, sitting down to savor the melting treat Above me, the
constellations glimmered like scattered diamonds, their eternal presence a quiet reassurance.
The stars had always been my sanctuary, the only constant in my chaotic world. As a child, during those nights when my father’s rage spilled over and I was sent fleeing into the dark, Lorenzo would find me. He’d take my hand, pull me into the grass, and we’d lie there, watching the heavens until my tears dried.
That version of Lorenzo felt so far away now, a relic of a past that no longer mattered. People came and went, fleeting and unpredictable, but the stars–they never left. No matter where I ended up, the same constellations would
shine above me.
I finished the ice cream and stood to leave. The night was quiet, peaceful, until a message pinged on my phone, cutting through the stillness
STEFANIA BITCH: Dad’s sweet and sour fish is amazing as always! I bet you must’ve never tried it, Aletta
Curiously, I clicked on the attached video. It opened to a scene of two families seated around a lavish dinner table. Red and gold decorations adorned the walls, double happiness symbols prominently displayed. In the center
2.00 PM et c
of it all, Lorenzo and Stefania sat close, laughing and talking animatedly.
My stomach twisted, but not with anger. No, this felt more like bitter amusement
Was this supposed to hurt me? Stefania’s petty games were laughable at best. I’d endured far worse than her childish attempts to gloat. But what struck me was the irony–whose wedding were they celebrating? Mine? Or hers? With a calm detachment, I deleted and blocked her number. Then, almost instinctively, I opened my chat with
Lorenzo
The last message I’d sent him was a week ago. I scrolled up, skimming through months of one–sided conversations. I had shared everything with him–plans for our future, updates on mundane parts of my day, even moments when I just needed someone to talk to. His replies, when they came, were short and perfunctory. Most of the time, they weren’t about me at all. They were about Stefania.
And what was the point of reviewing my chat box with Lorenzo? Just checking for the audacity and absurdity? I set the phone down, ready to leave, when it began to ring. Lorenzo’s name flashed across the screen.
“Where are you?” His voice came through sharp and impatient. “Why aren’t you home yet? It’s late.
I glanced at the time–8:20 p.m. It wasn’t particularly late by his standards. How many nights had he stayed of
out
until dawn without a word? How many times had I waited for him for the last three months we were living together in
the villa that I left the light on, hangover soup ready on the stove?
“I could ask you the same thing, you know. Where have you been, Lorenzo?” I said evenly. “And what’s the matter not seeing me right now? The wedding will be tomorrow yet all of it is for formality, so… there’s no need to stay home, right?”
“Aletta,” he said, his tone softening, but there was still that edge of control, that undercurrent of possession
“You know I’m busy. Okay I get it. I’m sorry for leaving you and making you arrange everything for the wedding alone. But I haven’t seen you in days, of course, I miss you. That’s why I’m looking for you. And our family has a reunion right now, you must be here”
I almost laughed. It was so absurd it bordered on comedy. “You miss me?” I asked with my taunting tone. “Really.
Lorenzo?”
