25. Adriana #3
I don’t know what to say. I spent months in that house feeling like a placeholder, like a person who didn’t quite count. And now he’s apologizing like words can put it back together.
“I didn’t let myself see how bad it was for you,” Rafael adds.
“Because if I saw it, I’d have to stop. And I didn’t want to stop.
” He makes himself hold my eyes. “I’m not going to tell you Viviana just happened.
I chose it. I told myself our marriage wasn’t real, so it didn’t count, but that was a story I made up so I could do what I wanted and still sleep at night.
You didn’t make me do anything. I did it. That one’s all mine.”
“Would it have changed anything?” I ask. “If you’d known?”
He’s quiet a moment. Then: “I’d like to think so. But I honestly don’t know.”
At least he’s honest.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Rafael says.
“I know I haven’t earned that. I just wanted you to hear me say it.
That I see it now. What happened. What I did.
And that I’m sorry for it.” He pauses. “And I’m signing the papers.
The divorce. I’ve been dragging my feet on it for months, making my lawyer find reasons, and I don’t even know why anymore.
Habit, maybe. Spite. It was the last thing I had any say over.
” He shakes his head. “It’s done. I’ll sign everything this week.
You’ll be free of all of us by the end of it. ”
The silence stretches.
“Thank you,” I finally say. “For saying it. And for that.”
It isn’t forgiveness. I don’t know if I have that in me yet. But it’s an acknowledgment, and it’s the one thing he could actually give me instead of just words. It’s something.
Rafael nods. Turns to Enzo.
“I’m sorry to you too. For taking his side all those years. For not reaching out when he threw you out. For letting this family turn into whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at the house around us. “We were close once. When we were kids. Before all of it.”
“I remember,” Enzo says quietly.
“I miss it. I know we can’t get it back. Too much happened. But I wanted you to know I miss it.”
Enzo doesn’t answer right away. I can see him working through it, the apology, the admission, all of it.
“We’re not going to be close,” he says finally. “You’re right. Too much happened.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t hate you.”
“I’ll take it.”
Another silence. Then Rafael holds out his hand.
Enzo looks at it. Looks at his brother.
He shakes it.
“Take care of yourself,” Enzo says.
“You too.” Rafael’s eyes move to me. “Both of you.”
***
We don’t talk until we’re back in the car.
Enzo starts the engine but doesn’t drive. Just sits there, hands on the wheel, looking at the house.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He sounds surprised by his own answer. “I think I actually am.”
“What your father said. About you being like him.”
“He’s wrong.” Enzo turns to look at me. “I used to believe it. Used to lie awake terrified I was turning into him. Cold. Cruel. Not able to love anyone for real.”
“You’re not.”
“I know. I finally know.” He reaches over, takes my hand. “You taught me that. When you left and came back. When you chose me anyway. You showed me I’m not him. That I can be something else.”
I squeeze his hand.
“Rafael surprised me,” I say. “The apology.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I don’t know if I forgive him. But it helped. Hearing him say it.”
“That’s allowed. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”
We sit there another minute. Looking at the house where he grew up. The house he never has to go back to.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
Home. Not my place, not the apartment. Home.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go home.”
The drive back is different.
The tension that filled the car on the way out here is gone. Enzo’s shoulders are looser. His hands easy on the wheel. Whatever he was carrying, all those years of it, he’s set it down by the side of the road and left it there.
“I spent so long afraid of turning into him,” he says, halfway back to the city. “I never noticed I already hadn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said I’m cold. Calculating. Like him.
And maybe I am, in some ways. Maybe I learned it from him.
But I’m not only that. I can be hard and still be kind.
I can protect what’s mine without turning into a monster.
” He glances at me. “He never learned that. He never had anyone who made him want to.”
“And you do?”
“I have you.”
My heart melts at his words. I take his hand in mine, offering support.
“He said you’d leave,” Enzo goes on. “That when you saw the real me, you’d go.”
“I already saw the real you.”
“I know. That’s what I told him.” He smiles, a real one, the first since we got in the car this morning. “You left. You came back. You chose me. That’s the thing he’ll never understand. The thing that makes me different from him.”
“What’s that?”
“Someone actually loves me. Not for what I can do for them. Not for the money or the name. Just me.” He brings my hand to his lips. Kisses my knuckles. “I didn’t know that was possible until you.”
I blink back tears. I’m not going to cry in the car.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too.”
“Take me home.”
He smiles. “Yes ma’am.”