It hit me that, with my disappearance into the Council's cover so close, none of this really mattered anymore.
After I turned him down that night, Lorenzo froze for a moment, his body stiff with tension. Perhaps the pride of a capo who'd clawed his way up from the gutter wouldn't allow him to ask why I had rejected him. He just muttered a quiet "Okay" and turned his back to me.
That night, the space between us in the dark felt as far as the Milky Way.
The following day, Lorenzo was gone before I woke up. I don't know if he was afraid I would resent the parade of favor he kept showing Sabina at the Family's clubs.
But a surprise was waiting on the kitchen table. A plate of slightly burnt toast, a fried egg, and a glass of milk. A rare gesture from a man whose hands knew guns better than skillets.
Beside the plate was a note in his blunt scrawl: "For my wife. Enjoy."
My phone buzzed with a message from him.
Lorenzo: [Honey, I've left the bridal silk in the study. Try it on and send me a photo. I know you'll be the most beautiful.]
I finished the toast, charred but edible, and walked to a stationer two blocks from the safehouse, where I bought a countdown calendar. Back home, I tore off the first page. There were six days left.
Then I got to work packing.
I started in the den, clearing away framed photos, the books we'd shared, all the papers and small things we'd gathered together over eight years. As I set the last item in a box, something slipped out. A diary.
Flipping through it, I saw pages filled with our happy memories. Dates, the day the pact was sealed, little notes about the foolish things we'd done back when neither of us had anything but each other.
The paper had yellowed slightly, but the memories were still vivid. I hesitated, then decided to leave it behind. Let it stay with the man who'd already forgotten how to read it.
But that bridal silk? It mocked me, hanging there as if nothing had changed. I couldn't resist reaching for a pair of scissors. I slashed the dress to shreds in a few swift, emotionless motions.
It felt oddly satisfying.
I took it a step further. Quietly, through channels only I could trace, I listed every expensive gift Lorenzo had ever given me. Free to anyone willing to cover the courier. By the time I'd finished packing, almost everything was gone. I arranged for a man to come collect the rest the next day, every thread severed clean.
That evening, my phone buzzed, reminding me of the seven o'clock immersive play. A popular one, sold out for weeks. I'd booked the seats long ago, back when I thought Lorenzo and I would go together.
I didn't bother asking whether he still intended to come. He'd long forgotten. Just before the show, he texted that business was keeping him, and I shouldn't wait on him for dinner.
I rolled my eyes and went alone. The front rows were beyond reach by then, so my seat sat in the right aisle, set back from the stage. The play was extraordinary. A heart-wrenching love story about life and death. By the end, I was moved to tears.
As the play drew to a close, the actors came down to mingle with the audience. A great screen lit overhead, announcing a randomly chosen member of the crowd. The screen showed Lorenzo, seated beside Sabina.
So. The business that kept him had been her. And they'd even managed the front row, the privileged seats a capo's cash flow could always buy. The spotlight found them, and they looked perfect together. Lorenzo, sharp and handsome. Sabina, radiant and poised.
The actors asked if they were a couple. Sabina giggled and leaned into Lorenzo's arm, not even waiting for his answer. The crowd roared with cheers and teasing.
The actor asked if they were moved. To cherish the people beside them, and above all the fate that bound two lovers together, would they kiss deeply, the way the play's final scene demanded?
Frozen only a moment, Sabina smiled, tilted her head, and kissed him, her lips brushing his in full view of everyone.
Whatever came over him, Lorenzo flinched and pushed her away abruptly. He stood, his expression unreadable, and turned his head slightly.
Our eyes met across the theatre.
I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness, just a faint sense of relief. I broke the gaze, grabbed my bag, and left.
As I reached the exit, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Lorenzo chased after me, his hair dishevelled from running. Perhaps because he'd seen that I'd been calm from the very start.
Different from before, he began to explain. "Adriana. Seriously." He panted, trying to catch his breath. "Listen, it's not what it looked like. There were so many people watching. I couldn't embarrass her. Or myself."
I nodded, smiling lightly. "Uh-huh. I understand."
He stared at me, confused. "Wait. Are you saying that, or are you just being sarcastic because you're jealous?"
I laughed softly. "Lorenzo, what's there to be jealous about?"
At that moment Sabina hurried out after us too, but in her high heels she stumbled, and just as she reached us her ankle gave way beneath her.
