Chapter 26 Gabriella
Something is terribly wrong.
I can feel it in the way Luca is watching me.
Ever since I returned from my trip to find my sister, there's been a shift stretching taut between us, a tension that feels like a storm building on the horizon.
He knows something.
I just don't know exactly what. Or I know and don’t want to face it yet.
"You seem nervous," he observes as we walk through Prague's old town toward the restaurant he selected for dinner.
"Do I? I’m excited to see more of the city."
Another lie. I'm truly scared now.
Every question he asked back at the hotel felt like a trap, each one designed to catch me in an inconsistency I didn't see coming. Questions about past relationships and where I would disappear to if I decided to flee.
As if I would tell him when he’s the one I would be running from.
We arrive at the restaurant and are immediately seated at a table with a view of the river, while all I can think about is how trapped I am.
"Would you care for wine?" Luca asks, already signaling the sommelier.
"Please."
I need a drink stronger than wine to steady my nerves, something to help me think clearly about how to navigate whatever game he's playing.
Because it is a game now, I'm sure of it.
A careful dance where he's trying to catch me in lies and I'm trying to maintain a fiction that's becoming harder to sustain with every passing hour.
"The Czech Republic has some excellent wines," the sommelier tells us. "Perhaps something local to enhance your Prague experience?"
"My wife has been looking forward to trying authentic Czech cuisine," Luca says. "She's very interested in experiencing local culture."
"Wonderful. We have several regional specialties that pair beautifully with our wine selection."
As the sommelier describes various options, I find myself nodding and smiling while my mind races. Luca's comment about experiencing local culture felt pointed, like he was referring to something specific. But what could he know about my afternoon? Could Luca have somehow tracked me down?
The thought makes my stomach clench with terror.
"You’re pale," Luca observes after the sommelier leaves. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Just a little tired. The traveling is catching up with me, I think."
"Of course. It's been quite a journey so far."
"But worth it. Prague is beautiful."
"It is. Very atmospheric. The kind of city that feels different depending on which neighborhoods you explore."
I nod, trying to look appropriately touristy and impressed. "I'd love to see more of the authentic areas tomorrow. Places where locals actually go, not just the tourist attractions."
"That's very adventurous of you. Most people prefer to stick to the safe, well-known areas when they're new in a foreign country."
"Well, I'm with you. I feel safe enough to explore."
The first course arrives, an elaborate soup that I'm sure is delicious but tastes like cardboard in my mouth. I'm too nervous to eat, too focused on monitoring every word that comes out of my mouth to enjoy the meal.
"Tell me about your day," I say, trying to shift the focus away from me. "How were your business calls?"
"Productive. I was able to resolve some issues with our shipping operations, confirm new partnerships."
"That's wonderful. Will this help with the European expansion you've been working on?"
"Possibly. Though some partnerships require more investigation than others."
"What do you mean?"
"Only that it's important to know who you're really dealing with before you commit to any long-term arrangements. People aren't always who they claim to be."
The words hang heavy between us like an accusation. I take a sip of wine, trying to keep my expression neutral, but panic claws at my throat.
"I suppose that's true in business," I manage.
"It's true in all relationships, don't you think? The importance of honesty, of knowing who someone really is underneath whatever image they're presenting to the world."
"Yes. Absolutely."
"For instance, if I discovered that someone close to me had been lying about fundamental aspects of their identity, that would be... problematic."
"Of course it would be. Trust is the foundation of any relationship."
"Exactly. Which is why I find deception so troubling. The idea that someone could present themselves as one person while actually being someone completely different."
My hands are shaking now, and I have to set down my wine glass before I drop it.
He absolutely fucking knows.
Maybe not everything, but he knows something is wrong. The question is how much he knows and what he plans to do about it.
"Is there something specific you're concerned about?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Should there be?"
"I don't know. You seem to be speaking in hypotheticals, but your tone suggests you're thinking about something concrete."
"Am I? I was just making general observations about trust and honesty in relationships."
But we both know he wasn't. We both know this conversation is about me, about us, about whatever truth he thinks he's discovered.
The main course arrives, and I force myself to eat a few bites while my mind races through possibilities.
If he knows I went to the hostel district, if he saw me talking to Carlos, what conclusions would he draw?
That I have a secret lover in Prague? That I've been here before? That I'm not who I claim to be?
Any of those conclusions would be dangerous, but some would be more devastating than others.
"The food is excellent," I say, trying to return to safe conversational territory.
"It is. Very authentic. The kind of meal you might have at a local place, somewhere frequented by people who actually live in Prague rather than tourists."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"The kind of place you might go if you had local friends to show you around."
There it is again. Another probe, another careful question designed to reveal information I can't afford to share.
"I wouldn't know about that," I say. "I don't know anyone in Prague."
"Of course not. How could you? You've never been here before. Though I have to say, you seem remarkably comfortable here for someone experiencing a new foreign city."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that most people are more anxious about things like currency exchange, tipping customs, basic etiquette. You seem to know instinctively how to navigate Czech culture."
Because I do know. Because I spent weeks here learning exactly those things, figuring out how to blend in and survive and find my way around a city where I didn't speak the language but needed to make myself understood.
"I read travel guides," I say. "I wanted to be prepared."
"Very thorough of you."
"I didn't want to embarrass you or seem like an ignorant tourist."
"And you certainly don't seem ignorant. If anything, you seem quite knowledgeable about Prague for someone who's never been here."
For fuck’s sake! Why won’t he say it already? Go ahead and outright accuse me of something! Anything!
The accusations are getting less subtle, the traps closing around me with each exchange. I’ve got to find a way to get through the rest of this dinner without revealing anything else that might condemn me.
"I think you're reading too much into things," I say with a laugh. "I'm just trying to be a good traveler, to appreciate the culture we're visiting."
"Of course. I'm probably being paranoid."
But his tone suggests he doesn't think he's being paranoid at all.
"Are you worried about something?" I ask, turning the question back on him. "Like I said before, you seem... tense tonight."
"Do I? I suppose I'm just processing some information I received today. Some unexpected revelations that have me questioning things I thought I understood."
"What kind of revelations?"
"The kind that make you realize how little you actually know about the people closest to you."
"I'm sure whatever it is, it's not as serious as you're making it out to be," I say desperately.
"I hope you're right. Because if my suspicions are correct, if the person I trust most has been deceiving me about who they really are..." He trails off, letting the threat hang unfinished.
"What would you do?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
"I don't know. That would depend on the nature of the deception, I suppose. And whether the person in question was willing to be honest about what they've been hiding."
It sounds like he's offering me a chance to confess. To come clean about whatever he thinks he knows and hope that honesty might earn me some kind of mercy.
But I can't.
Because if I tell him the truth - about Sofia, about the switch, about everything - it won't just destroy me. It will destroy Sofia too, wherever she is. It will expose her to the same danger I'm facing now.
"You're overthinking things," I say finally. "And worrying for nothing. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one."
"And what would the simple explanation be in this case?"
"That your wife is trying very hard to be the kind of partner you deserve, even if she sometimes feels out of her depth in your world."
"Is that what this is? You feeling out of your depth?"
"Maybe."
It's not entirely a lie. I do feel out of my depth. I'm drowning in lies and deception and the constant fear of discovery.
"I see." He signals for the check, and I realize dinner is over. We've survived the meal without a complete breakdown, but the walls are closing in around me.
"Should we walk back to the hotel?" I ask. "It's such a beautiful evening."
"If you'd like."
As we leave the restaurant and begin the walk back through Prague's illuminated streets, I try to think of a way forward.
Luca knows something is wrong, but he doesn't seem ready to confront me directly.
Maybe I still have time to figure out how to handle this.
Maybe I can still find a way to protect both Sofia and myself.
But with every step we take toward the hotel, toward the intimacy of our shared room where there will be nowhere to hide, I feel more panicked. Is it safe to be alone with him right now?
I’m not sure.
"Thank you for dinner," I say as we approach the hotel entrance. "It was lovely."
"Was it? You seemed distracted most of the evening."
"Just thinking about everything we've seen today. Prague is so... overwhelming. In a good way."
"Yes. It certainly has been revealing."
The word 'revealing' is intentional, but I force myself to smile as we enter the hotel lobby.
"I think I'd like to take a bath before bed," I say once we're in our suite. "Relax a bit before tomorrow."
"Of course. Take your time."
As I disappear into the bathroom and start running water, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There’s pure fear in my eyes, the stress that's been building since this afternoon. The weight of maintaining a lie that's getting heavier every day.
I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. And I'm starting to think that Luca isn't going to let me find out.
Whatever information he received today, it's changed something fundamental between us.
The game is over.
And I'm not going to win.