"Please take care of yourself, Miss Castellano," the doctor said softly, her eyes full of concern. "Remember to take the medicines our nurses gave you. And don’t push yourself too hard...healing takes time."

I nodded faintly.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” she continued, giving me a final, reassuring look. “I’ll be heading to surgery, but our nurses will stay with you until your guardian arrives.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

As she left, I took a slow breath, glancing around. The sterile hospital room felt like a prison I couldn't escape. I’d lost track of how many days I’d been here. All I remembered was being in a car—an accident. I was with Alfonso, my boyfriend of so many years, and his precious secretary, Sofia.

The last thing I heard before everything faded was Alfonso’s voice, panicked but not for me.

“Fuck! Are you okay, Sofia?” he’d shouted, fear lacing his words.

I wanted to call out for him, but my body was broken. Blood had pooled between my legs, and my limbs wouldn’t move. I could barely breathe. Sofia, meanwhile, had a minor bump on her head, a small cut. But he was bent over her, his hands hovering protectively while I lay there, struggling to stay conscious, drenched in my own blood.

Pain shot through my head, snapping me back to the present.

“Ouch…” I muttered, bringing my hand to my temple.

Two nurses rushed over. “Miss Castellano, try to relax. Thinking about it won’t help.”

One of them placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, her voice gentle but firm. “Especially given your condition…you’ve just lost a child. Please, take it easy on yourself.”

Tears blurred my vision, rolling silently down my cheeks. I’d lost my baby because of that accident. But what hurt more—losing my child or being left alone to grieve in a room while my baby’s father busied himself with…someone else?

“Please, try to rest,” the other nurse said, adjusting my pillow.

I did as they asked, closing my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me whole.

I woke to the sound of footsteps echoing against the cold floor. The lights were too bright, forcing me to squint as the room came into focus. Then I heard it—a voice I knew all too well.

"Is everything set already?" Alfonso’s voice was low, almost indifferent, as he spoke with one of the nurses.

“Uh, may I ask who you are, sir?” The nurse responded, her tone professional but wary.

“I’m Liliana’s guardian, Alfonso Aragon.”

Guardian? The word cut through me. Not even boyfriend. Was he that ashamed?

Despite the dull ache in my chest, I tried to sit up. The nurses rushed to help me, their hands gentle but firm as they propped me up.

"What are you doing here, my guardian?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm, though it came out weaker than I intended. I was still too drained.

Alfonso looked at me, his expression blank. He sighed, as though my very presence was a burden.

"I’m here to take you home. The doctor’s signed you off,” he said.

I stared at him, disbelief boiling inside me. "You’re shameless, Alfonso."

His brow tightened. "What are you talking abou—"

"I lost my baby because of you!" The words escaped, raw and broken.

The nurses stopped, alarmed, their eyes darting between us.

“Liliana,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “stop making a scene.”

"A scene?” I hissed, my voice trembling. “While I was bleeding out, you were busy over her."

The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to look to know who had entered. The air in the room seemed to thicken as Sofia stepped in, her heels clicking softly on the floor. She stood just inside the doorway, her head lowered, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen…” Sofia’s voice was small, nearly a whisper.

I glared at her. "And yet, here you are. Still by his side."

Alfonso shifted, his hand reaching instinctively for her arm, as if shielding her. The sight twisted the knife in my heart.

“You don’t get to explain,” I said, cutting him off. "You made your choice that night. Don’t pretend now that you care.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by the steady beeping of the machines.

“You lost a baby too, Alfonso,” I whispered, drained. “But you didn’t even flinch.”

He looked like he might say something, but then his gaze drifted to Sofia.

That told me everything.

I stayed in the hospital for two more days. Today, I was ready to return to him—but on my own terms. I picked up my phone and dialed.

"Mr. Finch? It’s Liliana. I've made my decision. I’ll sign the contract."

I heaved a sigh, struggling to hold onto the last threads of patience as I made my way toward the elevator. My first day back at work, and already the stares were burning into my back.

"I still can’t believe what happened…"

"Yeah, poor thing… can you imagine what she’s been through?”

I cleared my throat, letting them know I’d heard. Their voices went silent, but just before the doors shut, one last whisper slipped through.

"If I were her, I wouldn't be so desperate. I'd just walk away."

The elevator dinged, finally reaching the 16th floor. I stepped out, grateful to leave their judging stares behind, but their words clung to me. Couldn’t they find something better to do than dissect my life? Did their worlds have so little going on that they needed to make mine their personal favorite show?

My stomach twisted, a sour ache creeping up my chest. In Italy, I was somebody—the cherished daughter of a powerful family, someone who commanded respect and walked with dignity. But here? Here, I was reduced to little more than Alfonso’s discarded possession, something worn-out and replaced. The shame gnawed at me, heavily regretting the choice I made back then, blinded by the thrill of being madly in love with Alfonso, foolishly believing he felt the same way.

In my office, I tried to focus on work, but the whispers lingered in my mind. Suddenly, the door opened, and it was Ava West, a junior associate who’d always been friendly. She looked hesitant, as if she didn’t know whether to approach me.

“Hey, Liliana,” she said, her voice soft. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

I appreciated her kindness, but it stung all the same.

“I’m fine, Ava. Just busy,” I replied, forcing a smile.

She bit her lip, glancing around as if to ensure no one was listening. “I heard what happened with Alfonso and…well, I just wanted you to know that we’re here for you. If you need anything, just say the word.”

“Thanks, but I really don’t need pity,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “I just need to focus on my work.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted to help.”

I felt a pang of guilt as she left the room, but I pushed it aside.

I picked up my phone, scrolling through emails to drown out the noise in my head. After the hospital incident, I swore not to show weakness. I’d become colder with Alfonso, too. We hadn’t spoken since—just passing each other at home like strangers.

It was eight o'clock in the evening. I kept my gaze fixed on my papers on the table. But Alfonso’s shadow crossed the table, impossible to ignore. Fresh from work, he stood there holding a bouquet like some prize.

“Here,” he said, setting the bouquet down with a dull thud. “Roses for you.”

I looked at the flowers, a faint flicker of warmth stirring—until I noticed they were red roses.

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the familiar sting of disappointment.

“If you’re here to apologize, the flowers aren’t necessary,” I said, nudging the bouquet away. “A simple sorry would’ve been enough.”

He scoffed, his expression hardening. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” I let out a bitter laugh, unable to hold back any longer. “Alfonso, I’m allergic to roses. Do you even remember that?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing.

“Allergic?” he said, dismissively. “I didn’t think it was that serious. You could’ve at least appreciated the gesture.”

My fingers clenched around my pen. After everything, he still didn’t get it. The humiliation, the disappointment—it was all crashing down on me in waves. After a day of humiliation at work, here we were, arguing over a bouquet of roses. Of all things. Couldn’t he just let me have a quiet, stress-free evening for once?

“The gesture would mean more if you actually remembered something about me. Anything at all.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Maybe if you weren’t so ungrateful—”

“Ungrateful?” I could barely hold my voice steady as I held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don’t have the energy for this.” Already, I felt the itch spreading across my skin, my eyes starting to burn. Resigned, I stood up, heading toward the bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

In the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, I reached for the antihistamines on my nightstand, swallowing a couple of pills and sinking onto the bed. My mind spun with exhaustion and frustration.

Suddenly, a chime echoed from the hallway, his phone lighting up with a notification. I hesitated, my gaze drifting toward the sound. Against my better judgment, I picked it up, scrolling to the new message.

“Thank you for the beautiful bouquet of red roses. You’re too sweet.”

Sofia’s name flashed on the screen. He even named it "my dearest Sofia".

My hand trembled as I set the phone down.

The roses—they weren’t even meant for me.

Seeing Sofia's message pop up on Alfonso's phone, I felt… nothing. Betrayal had lost its sting somewhere along the way. It was almost predictable now.

I closed my eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath before I stood. You have to keep moving, I reminded myself. I couldn’t let them hold me down, couldn’t let them keep turning my life into something small and miserable.

The thought gave me strength. I straightened, looking around our shared space one last time, and then headed for my things to start packing.

At dinner, Alfonso casually mentioned his upcoming trip to Paris, his tone expecting the usual eagerness from me. But I just nodded, not bothering to look up. I could feel his eyes narrow, his irritation surfacing more quickly than I’d expected.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” He demanded, disbelief written across his face.

I glanced up, holding his gaze for a second longer than usual. “Like what?”

His mouth twitched, and he let out a scoff. “Maybe something like, ‘Have a great trip,’ or are you planning on sulking the entire time?”

I bit down on my lip to keep my response measured, but the sting of his words burned. “I guess I just assumed you’d be too busy to care about my well-wishes,” I replied coolly.

“Don’t be childish,” he snapped, his voice rising. “It’s just a trip, Liliana. Do you have to make everything about you?”

The bitterness I’d been holding back finally bubbled up, but I forced it down, the way I always had. He continued ranting, rattling off how my behavior was “immature” and “exhausting.” But I was only half-listening now, my mind drifting to the countless moments just like this one, moments I’d put aside for the sake of peace. I was always the one to smooth things over, always the one to say sorry—even when I wasn’t wrong. It was like a reflex, something I’d trained myself to do without a second thought. The realization made me feel sick.

“You know what? I’m done with this,” Alfonso said suddenly, throwing his hands up as if I were the one making him miserable. “I’m leaving.”

I didn’t flinch. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “Do what you want.”

He paused, clearly taken aback. Usually, this would be the part where I softened, where I’d apologize and try to fix things. But this time, I stayed rooted at the table, meeting his glare with silence. I watched him falter, then straighten up, his pride pushing him to storm off, waiting one last moment for me to follow.

But I didn’t move, and as the door finally clicked shut behind him, a strange, quiet resolve settled over me.

I wouldn’t be the one apologizing this time. Not anymore.

Later that night, as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. Half asleep, I reached for it, barely paying attention—until I saw the words on the screen. My drowsiness vanished, replaced by sharp awareness. I sat up, my heart skipping a beat.

"They’ve been waiting for your comeback, Donna Liliana."

Only a few people ever called me that, people from a world I thought I’d left behind. And I knew exactly who this was, or who they were.