Chiara
CHIARA
W hen I wake up the next morning, the first thing I do is reach for my phone, hoping, praying, that there’s something from Giovanni. A text, a missed call, even a damn emoji—anything to show that last night didn’t break us completely. But as I unlock the screen, my heart sinks.
Nothing.
No messages, no calls. Just the empty, glowing screen staring back at me, reflecting the hollowness I feel inside. I drop the phone back onto the bed, the reality of it clear now.
He didn’t even bother.
I sit up slowly, the events of last night replaying in my mind on an endless loop. The fight, the harsh words, the look in Giovanni’s eyes when he walked out. I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. I won’t cry again. I’m done crying over this.
But as I glance around the room, the emptiness settles over me. Giovanni’s absence is a physical thing, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I keep hoping that any second now, my phone will buzz with a message from him, that he’ll say something to fix this, to take back the things he said. To take back what I said.
But the minutes tick by, and still … nothing.
I drag myself out of bed, going through the motions of getting dressed, packing the last of my things for the trip home. Everything feels numb, like I’m moving underwater, each action slow and deliberate, like it takes all my energy just to function.
By the time I’m ready to leave, I feel like a shell of myself, the energy it took to keep going draining whatever was left of me. I grab my bags and step out into the living room, finding Nikolai already there.
He looks up as I enter, his gaze sharp and assessing, but he doesn’t say anything. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He nods, picking up his own bag and heading for the door. “Let’s get going then. The jet’s waiting.”
As soon as we step outside, my eyes immediately go to Giovanni’s Suite… then my heart lurches painfully in my chest when I see the empty parking spot where Giovanni’s SUV should be.
He’s gone. He didn’t even wait to say goodbye.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s no use. The hurt is there, raw and aching, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Giovanni left without a word, without giving us a chance to fix things.
I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that I don’t care, that I don’t need him to validate my feelings. But it’s no use. The pain is there, and there’s nothing I can do to make it go away.
Nikolai watches me for a moment, his expression giving nothing away, but I can tell he knows what I’m thinking. He always knows. He’s always been able to read me like a book, no matter how hard I try to hide it.
“You alright?” he asks, his voice soft, almost cautious .
I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t want to break down in front of him, not now, not when I’m already feeling so weak. I don’t want him to see just how much this hurts.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice sounding more stable than I feel. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Nikolai doesn’t push, doesn’t ask any more questions. He just nods and starts walking toward the car. I follow him, my heart feeling heavier with each step I take.
The ride to the private airstrip is quiet, the tension between us palpable. Nikolai doesn’t try to engage me in conversation, and I’m grateful for that. I’m not in the mood to talk, not in the mood to pretend everything is okay. I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery pass by, the campus disappearing behind us as we head for the private airstrip.
When we finally arrive, the jet is waiting, sleek and ready to take us home. Nikolai grabs our bags and hands them off to the attendant before leading me onto the plane. I sink into one of the plush seats, staring out the window as the engines hum to life.
The silence between us stretches on, the only sound is the low hum of the plane and the faint rustle of Nikolai settling in across from me. I know he’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t. I don’t have the words, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Eventually, Nikolai speaks, his voice quiet, careful. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
I shake my head, still staring out the window. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit,” he says, a little sharper this time. “The entire Suite heard your fight last night.”
I don’t respond, biting my lip to keep from saying something I’ll regret. I know he’s just trying to help, trying to be there for me like he always is, but right now, I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to open that wound .
“?” he presses, his voice softer now, more gentle.
I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Can we just not? Please, Nikolai.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I can feel him weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he nods, leaning back in his seat.
“Alright. But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”
I nod, swallowing down my tears. “I know. Thanks.”
We lapse back into silence, and for the rest of the flight, neither of us speaks. I’m too lost in my own thoughts, too wrapped up in the pain and confusion swirling inside me. I can’t stop thinking about how he left without a word, how he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
But as much as it hurts, I won’t take back what I said. I can’t. Marriage isn’t the answer, not for us, not now. Maybe not ever. I won’t be forced into something I’m not ready for, something that feels more like a trap than a promise.
Giovanni doesn’t understand that, and maybe he never will. But I have to stay true to myself, even if it means losing him. Even if it means this pain I’m feeling now.
Later when the plane touches down, Nikolai waits for me to gather my things before we head out. He still doesn’t say much, just keeps close by, a steady presence that I’m grateful for, even if I can’t bring myself to tell him.
As we step outside, the car waiting for us pulls up, and Nikolai opens the door for me without a word. I slide into the backseat, staring blankly out the window as the driver takes us to our destination. The city passes by in a blur, and I barely notice the familiar sights, too lost in my own head to care.
When we finally pull up to the estate, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. My mother will be expecting me to be happy, to be excited about being home, but I don’t know if I have it in me to put on that mask.
Nikolai must sense my hesitation because he stops before opening the car door and turns to me, his expression softening. “You don’t have to pretend, . Not with me.”
I look at him, and for the first time since we left Willow Bridge, I feel a crack in the wall I’ve been trying so hard to keep up. The tears I’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, but I bite them back, refusing to let them fall.
“I’m just so tired,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m tired of all of this.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand, his touch grounding me. “Will you be okay?”
I meet his gaze, trying to muster up some kind of reassurance, but the words catch in my throat. “I will be,” I say instead, the only thing I can offer him.
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he just nods and starts walking toward the house, his footsteps slow, like he’s giving me time to catch up.
I know that I need to talk to Giovanni, that we need to find a way to fix this, but right now, the thought of facing him again feels like too much.
So I push it all down, burying the hurt and confusion deep inside, and focus on the one thing I can control—surviving today. One step at a time, one breath at a time, until I can figure out what to do next.