Julian was still in the intensive care unit. He was critical.
I sat by his side for five days, holding his cold hand, praying silently for him to come back to me.
I even tried calling Matteo. Made more than 50 calls, sent dozens of messages, in the hope that he'd come—just to see some glimmer of concern in his eyes.
But none of them was answered.
No sign that he loved his own son.
What stung me even more painfully was on Clara's social media.
There, Matteo was smiling brightly, with Clara, celebrating Nora's coming home from the hospital. Their photos were a picture-perfect family. Full of hugs. Full of laughter.
And while I was still sitting in this chair, by myself, waiting for my son to come back to life from death.
I called the lawyer that my mother had directed to handle my divorce.
"Hello? Any updates on the papers?" I inquired.
"Certainly. I brought the documents to your place two days ago. Haven't you opened them?"
My heart missed a beat for a moment.
What? Two days ago?" I yelled. "I'm still at the hospital! I haven't got anything…. "
On the other end, I heard a moment of silence, then my lawyer's voice turned unsure.
"The courier said the documents were signed for by someone at your residence. I assumed it was you."
My head reeled.
"No. I don't want Matteo to hear about it yet. Not now!"
I stood up from the chair immediately.
"I'll go check myself. Thank you, Mr. Ben."
I reluctantly departed, Julian still unconscious. I had no choice—I have to get the documents before Matteo finds them.
I hastily entered the house, hoping it was quiet.
But my steps stopped at the entrance of the living room.
Matteo rigidly sat on the large sofa, his eyes piercing—like a lion stalking its prey.
Beside him, Clara sat victoriously and elegantly, playing with her hair. A mischievous smile smiled on her face.
Matteo took the papers off the counter.
"You came for this, didn't you?"
I nodded, lowering my head quietly, and walked towards him.
"So… you really filed for divorce from me?"
He stood up gradually, taking inch by inch. His gaze cut through me with no mercy.
"You think... an orphan girl like you can live without me?”
I inhaled deeply, my best effort at looking away and not meeting his eyes.
Clara also giggled. She rose from her chair and accompanied Matteo.
"Matteo, calm down…" she whispered softly, gently touching Matteo's chest, her hand gently stroking him as if soothing an angry king.
Clara also gazed at me with a smile.
Maybe Liora just was no longer able to tolerate this marriage anymore. Maybe. she wants to be happy with her lover. You see, sometimes women just need a man to satisfy them."
I clenched my fists. My breathing was strained.
"What are you saying?! Talk sense, Clara! I never—
But I was short-changed when Matteo pulled a large brown envelope off the table. His hand went in, and then he slammed sheets of photographs against my face. The photos scattered all over the marble floor.
"Is that your lover?" Matteo asked coldly.
I stood frozen, staring at the scattered photos. Shameful poses I never even fantasized about in bed with another man. Taken inside a room I had never even set foot in.
“N-No… that's not me. This… this is retouched!" my voice broke.
But Matteo looked at me as if he was looking at trash.
"I figured you were just an orphan girl from the shelter—seems like you're a cheap-class prostitute."
His words cut deeper than a slap.
The air around me like iced up.
"Enough, darling. Trash has to be thrown away…" Clara advised Matteo.
I clenched my fists.
Matteo gazed at me from head to foot, cynical and repulsed. Then his hand moved toward the divorce papers on the table, waving them about as if they were mere pieces of paper.
"You want this, Liora?" he asked forcefully.
"You want me to sign it? And be rid of me, right?"
I remained quiet. Suppressing the rage and sorrow that began to pierce deep within my chest.
Matteo glanced over at Clara briefly, who simply crossed her arms and snarled wickedly over his shoulder.
"Kiss my shoe. Do it. And I'll sign it."
"What? No! I won't." I stared at him, aghast.
Clara edged forward, close to me, and whispered in my ear.
“Come on, Liora… just do it. Come on, you're used to being under other people's thumbs, are you?"
I slowly turned to her, my jaw working. But Matteo just laughed.
"If you don't feel like it, that's all right. I'll keep the papers. We can play house some more until I get bored."
I was silent. There was no way around it but doing it, no matter my pride had to be walked on in front of them.
I took a deep breath and slowly rested my head.
Slowly, my knees touched the cold marble floor. My face pressed against the man's black, shiny shoes who once promised to protect me.
I kissed the shoe, and they smiled, happy they had torn apart what little pride I had left.
I looked up at Matteo on the floor, and then he threw the papers onto the floor, right in front of my face.
"I have signed it. You are no longer my wife."
Then Matteo and Nora walked off.
****
I headed towards the dining room before heading back out to the hospital. My stomach was hurting. I had not eaten since breakfast.
I saw there Clara's young daughter Nora eating with her nanny. She sat innocently in her chair, holding a spoon with her little hand.
I walked quietly, with no other agenda but to get food for myself. But when I got there and grabbed a plate of rice, Nora looked at me. Her little eyes were sharp, unfriendly.
"Auntie… you're here?" she asked naively.
"Mom told you that you don't deserve to live in our house because your son almost killed me in the pool."
I became quiet. What she said hurt more than words. Clara had succeeded in brainwashing an innocent boy.
"Nora, you slipped into the pool alone that time. Julian didn't do anything wrong," I said quietly.
Nora remained quiet, an expression of displeasure flashed when I spoke to her in such a way. She suddenly dropped her plate on the floor.
The food went all over the place. She began to cry loudly. Her tears were like an alarm calling for disaster.
Clara and Matteo arrived soon after.
Clara immediately hugged Nora with a concerned expression on her face.
“Baby, why are you crying?"
"Mom… Auntie threw my food away. She said she hates you, and she wants to take it out on me…" Nora sobbed.
I shook my head weakly.
"No. I didn't do that."
Clara glared at me, the tears patently fake.
"You've crossed the line, Liora. If you hate me, fine. But leave a child out of your hate."
Matteo went straight away. He rushed over to me, his hand closing around my arm firmly, holding it so hard I staggered.
"You're hungry, aren't you? You want to eat, Liora?"
He marched over to the table, served food onto my plate liberally, then put the plate down on the floor.
"Eat. That's where you belong."
I stood rigid. But my body was weak, hungry. I could not protest. I sat down slowly on the ground.
My hands trembled as I began spooning rice into my mouth.
A whip lashed across my back. I screamed.
"Get on with it. If you take too long to spoon rice into your mouth, I will whip you.".
I tried to gobble down quickly, but the pain was cutting into my back. Every movement was swallowing shards of glass.
I did eat. But my body doubled up with it. My head smacked onto the ground. My vision began to blur.
Was I going to die there?
Before I could go back and fight my son again?
