The image stole my breath.
Fireworks bloomed across a velvet-black sky, captured at the perfect moment. Beneath it was a caption steeped in emotion:
After being gone for so long, I finally came home. And tonight, the fireworks welcome me.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have, my thoughts spiraling downward. When I tried to close the app, I realized something else—Rocco’s account was still logged in on my tablet.
I didn’t want to see more. Didn’t want proof. Didn’t want to witness whatever intimacy lingered between them. Exhaling sharply, I logged out and set the tablet aside, refusing to let myself fall deeper into it.
By morning, I felt calmer—emptier, but steadier. At the office, my manager handed me my approved resignation letter. Her expression carried pride mixed with regret as I explained my reason for leaving: a bond marriage arranged between families, one that would take me out of the city.
“I’ll miss you, Sofia,” she said softly. “You’ve always been one of my strongest.”
I didn’t trust my voice, so I pulled her into a tight embrace instead, murmuring my thanks for everything she’d taught me over the years.
After the paperwork was finalized, my colleagues insisted on a farewell lunch to mark my engagement. I didn’t argue. I reserved a private table at one of Rocco’s preferred restaurants—a discreet place often used by men in our world for quiet meetings. It was familiar. Too familiar.
Midway through the meal, I excused myself to the restroom—and nearly collided with Antonella in the hallway.
Her smile was effortless, radiant. “Sofia? I didn’t expect to see you here.” She laughed lightly. “This is actually the first place Rocco brought me after my coming-of-age ceremony. We’ve eaten here more times than I can count.”
I returned a polite smile, controlled and distant, and attempted to pass her.
She stepped slightly into my path. “Oh—by the way,” she added, tilting her head. “I noticed something last time. Rocco always rinses the shrimp before peeling it for you, right? And you don’t like spicy food either?”
I stopped.
I did like spicy food. Always had. Yet Rocco had rinsed the shrimp every time, insisting it was healthier, urging me to avoid heat and strong flavors. I’d believed it was care. Consideration.
Standing there, facing Antonella, the truth finally settled into place.