21. LAYLA
21
LAYLA
The cool night air wraps around me as I step onto the balcony, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I need air. I need to breathe, to think, to make sense of the chaos spiraling in my mind.
I grip the balcony railing, staring out at the dark vineyards, but all I can see is Valentino, his dark eyes searching mine when he proposed, his lips forming words that should have meant everything but felt like nothing.
And yet, the way he looked at me, was it really nothing?
The sound of his footsteps reaches me before he does.
"Layla…" His voice is soft, hesitant.
I don’t turn around. I don’t trust myself to face him, to look at him and not break apart.
He exhales, and his presence comes closer. "I had to get you away from all that… To talk."
I swallow, blinking at the vast darkness ahead. "What is there to talk about, Valentino?"
He hesitates. "Everything."
A humorless laugh escapes me. "Everything? Or the fact that we just lied to an entire room full of people who actually believe we’re in love?"
Silence.
"Or the fact that I don’t even know what’s real anymore?"
Still, silence.
"Or maybe," I whisper now, my fingers tightening around the railing, "we should talk about how I don’t like who I’ve become."
Finally, I turn to face him.
And it hurts.
Because he looks as wrecked as I feel.
His tie is loosened, his brows pulled together in a deep frown, and his hands are shoved into his pockets like he's trying to ground himself, like if he lets go, everything will come crumbling down.
"Layla…"
I shake my head, stepping back. "No. Just listen to me, Valentino. Because I have to say this, or I’ll never be able to."
His jaw clenches, but he nods.
I take a shuddering breath.
"I don’t recognize myself anymore. I used to think I was strong, that I had principles, but look at me." I let out a shaky laugh. "I lied about who I am, I kept a huge secret from you, I faked a relationship for money, God, I—"
My voice cracks, and I hate how raw I sound.
Valentino takes a step closer, but I hold up a hand. "Don’t."
His eyes flicker with something pained, but he doesn’t move.
"I did all of this for Vincent," I whisper. "For my son. Because I wanted him to have a better life. But what kind of mother am I if…”
I’m hiding him from his father?
Valentino stills. His throat bobs, his breathing shallow.
I press a hand to my chest, feeling my heart racing. "This… isn’t fair to him. And it isn’t fair to you, either."
He closes his eyes, his head tilting back slightly, like he’s taking in the weight of my words.
Then, slowly, he opens them.
And when he looks at me, there’s something in his eyes that breaks me.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he murmurs.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I know."
His hands fist at his sides. "And I sure as hell don’t want to hurt Vincent."
The sound of my son’s name coming from his lips sends a sharp pain through my chest.
Tears burn at the back of my eyes. "Then why does it feel like that’s exactly what we’re doing?"
Valentino doesn’t answer. Maybe because he knows I’m right.
His brows pull together, his breathing shallow. "I love you, Layla."
My breath catches.
And for a second, just a second, I let myself feel it.
The weight of those words. The truth in them. The way my heart screams that I feel it too.
But it doesn’t change anything.
Not when we built this on lies.
I shake my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "This isn’t the way to love someone, Valentino."
His expression shatters.
"I want to be with you." His voice comes out low, desperate. "But not like this."
Tears slip down my cheek before I can stop them.
"I want to be with you too," I whisper, breaking apart. "But if it means losing myself, I can’t."
The truth sits between us, heavy and inescapable.
We love each other.
But we can’t keep doing this.
I reach for his hand, just once, just to feel him one last time.
His fingers curl around mine tight, as if he knows it too. That this moment is the end of something.
His jaw clenches, his throat working like he’s trying to say something.
But before he can, my phone rings.
I flinch, blinking down at the screen.
Mom.
A bad feeling claws at my chest.
I answer immediately. "Mom?"
"Layla!" My mother’s voice is frantic, breathless. "Layla, it’s Vincent, he’s having trouble breathing. I’m taking him to the emergency room right now. You need to get here, quickly!"
The world stops.
My heart lurches, my breath evaporates, my entire body freezes.
"Mom, what? What’s happening?" I barely manage, already spinning toward the door, already running.
Valentino grabs my wrist. "Layla—"
"I have to go!" I choke out, my voice shaking.
He doesn’t let go. "I’m coming with you."
I nod, not caring about anything anymore.
Not the fake engagement. Not the breakup. Not the people inside.
Nothing.
Except Vincent.
My son.
The only thing that has ever mattered.
And as Valentino and I race toward his car, one terrifying thought slams into me like a tidal wave,
What if I lose him before he ever knows the truth?