Chapter 18
It's been a month, the apartment now feel cold...the kitchen counter too quite and the bed? ...feels like it lost his warmth.
Leo curls against me at night, his tiny body pressed close like he knows I’m breaking piece by piece. His little paws scratch against the sheets, searching for the man who used to hold him too, the man who vanished without leaving even a shadow behind.
Sometimes I still hear him, his voice calling me piccola, the deep timbre of his laughter echoing against the walls. But when I turn, it’s just the emptiness staring back at me, cruel and unyielding.
The mirror shows a stranger these days. My eyes are swollen, the spark he once teased me about now dimmed. I still braid my hair the way he liked, still wear the scarf he draped over my shoulders one chilly evening, because it feels like the only thread tying me to him.
Every knock on the door, every message notification, makes my heart leap with foolish hope. But it’s never him. Never Lorenzo. Just silence filling the cracks he left behind.
And yet, I can’t let go. Because love this deep doesn’t end with a goodbye it lingers, it poisons, it keeps you alive and kills you slowly all at once.
Time has a strange way of moving. It heals nothing, only teaches you how to carry the ache without collapsing under it. Three years have passed since that day, and still, the apartment carries his ghost in every corner.
I no longer wait at the door. I no longer check my phone hoping for a message that will never come. But the silence? It’s still here woven into the walls, into my breath, into the way my heart stumbles whenever I hear his name whispered somewhere in the city.
Leo has grown now, no longer the tiny pup Lorenzo placed in my arms. He’s bigger, stronger, but his eyes still hold that same innocence, that same loyalty.
Sometimes I think he remembers Lorenzo more than I do he’ll sit by the door at night, ears perked, as if waiting for footsteps that never return.
And me? I’ve learned to live. School, work, routine. Smiles that don’t quite reach my eyes. People call it moving on, but I know better. I haven’t moved on; I’ve only learned to hide the wound beneath layers of normalcy.
Yet, even after three years, one truth remains unshaken my heart still belongs to him. To the man who loved me with obsession, who left me with silence, who carved his presence so deep into my soul that not even time can erase it.
And maybe… maybe he’ll never come back. But sometimes, in the quietest hours of the night, I swear I can still feel him. Watching. Waiting. Like a shadow just out of reach.
Three years is a long time, yet somehow it still feels like yesterday when I last saw him. The seasons have changed, the city has moved on, people have drifted in and out of my life… but I remain frozen in that moment he left me with nothing but silence.
I’ve grown older, perhaps wiser. My life is neatly divided now between school, teaching, and Leo.
He’s my only constant. He follows me everywhere, his golden fur brushing against my legs when the nights feel unbearably long.
Sometimes, when I bury my face in his neck, I whisper secrets I can’t say to anyone else.
Secrets like I miss him. I miss him so much it feels like breathing without lungs.
The apartment isn’t the same. I painted the walls, rearranged the furniture, tried to erase the memories stamped into every corner but they return no matter what.
The kitchen still carries the phantom sound of his laughter when he teased me for burning rotis.
The bed still feels like it’s waiting for the weight of his body, for the warmth of his arms. And the balcony?
I can’t step out there without remembering the nights he’d wrap his jacket around me while we watched the stars.
I don’t cry anymore. The tears dried long ago. Now, it’s just a quiet ache, steady and relentless, sitting at the bottom of my chest. People say grief dulls with time, but mine only sharpened into something more dangerous an emptiness I learned to live with.
Sometimes, when I walk through the crowded streets, I catch myself searching every tall figure, every deep voice, every sharp profile hoping, against reason, that it might be him. But it never is. It never will be.
Lorenzo hasn’t come back. And maybe he never will. But my heart, foolish as it is, still belongs to the man who abandoned it.
The alarm rang at 6:00 AM, sharp and merciless, pulling me out of a restless sleep. For a moment, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body refusing to move. Mornings were always the hardest the space beside me on the bed still empty, untouched for three years, mocking me with its silence.
With a sigh, I dragged myself up. The air was cool, the kind that made me want to curl back under the blanket, but I couldn’t.
Today was important the school’s annual exams had begun, and I had duty.
Students depended on me, and I had promised myself long ago that no matter how broken I felt, I would never let it spill into the classroom.
Leo stretched lazily at the foot of the bed, yawning before hopping down. He padded after me as I moved to the kitchen, his paws clicking softly against the tiles. “Don’t look at me like that,” I murmured, patting his head as I poured milk into his bowl. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.”
I got ready quickly simple saree, neatly tied hair, minimal makeup. The mirror reflected a woman who had learned how to smile even when her eyes betrayed her. Some days, I barely recognized myself.
By 7:30, I was out the door, bag slung over my shoulder, exam papers carefully stacked inside. The streets were already buzzing with life rickshaws honking, vendors setting up their stalls, children rushing past with heavy bags. Life never paused, no matter how much my heart did.
When I reached the school, the atmosphere was different. Students sat nervously outside the exam hall, some muttering last-minute revisions, others clutching their pens like weapons. Teachers hurried in and out, their voices carrying over the chatter.
“Good morning, ma’am,” a chorus of voices greeted me as I stepped inside. I forced a small smile, nodding at them. Duty first, Ruhi. Always duty.
As I distributed the question papers, my hands steady and professional, I couldn’t help but think how strange life was.
Just three years ago, I would have rushed home after school, knowing he’d be waiting probably teasing me, probably holding out some ridiculous excuse just to keep me close.
Now, I had only silence waiting for me.
But still… I continued. Because that’s what life demanded of me.
Maybe...it was never meant to be...I was never meant to be his, I lied to save his life and now look at me.. i don't know how to survive without him.
Maybe it's an another lesson. A beautiful one.