The day the last of my things were carried out of the safehouse, I sat in the small place I'd rented under a name the Family didn't track and sent word to Lorenzo Marchetti through our private channel.

"Let's break the pact."

Less than a second after it sent, his answer surfaced.

【Okay.】

I stared at that one word for a long time, and then I laughed.

Across the table, Gianna Romano caught a glimpse of the screen and nearly knocked over her espresso.

"You're kidding. Two bloodlines, an alliance the elders sealed, and the heir lets it go that easy?"

"Every man I ever cut loose, we fought it out over hundreds of rounds. This is ridiculous."

I lifted my cup and took a sip, the bitterness spreading across my tongue.

"Because he never actually listened to a word I sent."

Gianna blinked.

I slid my phone across to her.

She scrolled up through the channel, the whole screen filled with my green bubbles.

All the things I'd sent over the years, the small updates, the complaints, the hurt, the hoping, like a one-woman show played out to an empty room.

And Lorenzo's replies were always pathetically short.

【Okay.】

【Mm.】

【Got it.】

A few extra words, on the rare occasion, counted as remarkable warmth.

The truth was, I never used to mind.

I always told myself he was just cold by nature, an heir raised to give nothing away.

Until the day I happened to see his phone.

In one of his channels, a full sixty seconds of recorded words had been played all the way through, the bar resting quietly at the end.

Someone else had sent it to him.

The words I sent him almost never got opened at all.

In that moment, it suddenly made sense.

It wasn't that he disliked recorded words.

It wasn't that he couldn't answer.

He just couldn't be bothered to waste his time or his patience on me.

And so the scale inside my heart finally tipped all the way over.

……

The night I saw that fully played sixty-second message on Lorenzo's phone, he was sound asleep.

His even breathing filled the air beside me, and the faint glow of the screen lit my face, stinging my eyes until they ached.

Almost without thinking, I opened our channel.

In an instant, something clamped down hard on my heart.

There they sat, one after another, all the words I'd sent, lined up neatly, each with a bright red dot in the corner, like wounds that had never healed.

He had never opened a single one.

The tears came without warning.

I'd always known, really. Lorenzo found things like that a hassle, didn't like sending word, didn't like listening to what came through.

Over the years, I'd even learned to make his excuses for him.

Burdened by Family business, cold by blood, raised to keep everything behind his teeth……

But the moment I saw those sixty seconds listened to from start to finish, every excuse I'd told myself turned pale and laughable.

That message was from Sabrina Lombardo.

An associate's daughter, and his companion of years, the woman who'd circled him since they were young.

They spoke every day.

The neighborhood gossip, the small things, the long nights. Everything.

Their history took up twice the room that mine and Lorenzo's did.

So it turned out it wasn't that he disliked talking.

And it wasn't that he disliked listening.

It was just that the person was never me.

In that moment, something became clear to me.

Love is never something you prove by comparison.

But the difference makes it effortless to see whether a person actually cares about you.

I'd thought Lorenzo was simply cold by nature.

But it turned out he could patiently listen to sixty seconds of someone else's rambling too.

Just not when that someone was me.

It felt like a wound being cut open across my chest, the pain leaving me numb.

"Babe……"

"Come here."

Maybe my smothered crying woke him.

Still half asleep, Lorenzo mumbled the words, stretched out one long arm, and pulled me into his chest the way he always did.

I fell against the warmth of him before I could brace myself.

His familiar scent closed around me.

And in that moment, the tears broke loose completely.

Because he did love me.

He'd pull me into his arms in his sleep without thinking, remember that I got cold easily, leave a lamp burning when I worked late over the dead the Family sent me.

And yet it was also him, again and again, who made me feel like I didn't matter.

In that instant, I really did want to wake him.

To demand why.

To demand why he could patiently listen to someone else's sixty seconds, but would never once open mine.

But the words rose to my lips and then I couldn't say a single one.

Because I was tired.

So tired.

I lay quietly in his arms, my body pressed close to his, and still felt a gulf between us that I could never cross.

It was a bed for two.

And it felt wide enough to hold two separate worlds.

That night, I barely closed my eyes.

The tears soaked silently into my pillow.

By the time it was light, I finally admitted one thing.

Lorenzo and I really did seem to have reached the end.

The next day, I started looking for a place of my own.

Close to the routes I knew, far enough from Marchetti reach, which way the light came in, what kind of people kept the building……

After half a month, I finally settled on a two-bedroom under a quiet arrangement.

Signing for it, calling the men who'd move my things, packing in silence.

Everything moved along in good order.

And Lorenzo knew nothing about any of it.

Even this morning, on my way out, the movers called to confirm the time. He was standing right there, and didn't ask a single question.

After dinner with Gianna, I went back to the safehouse Lorenzo and I had shared for three years.

The place was the wedding home the Don and his wife had provided when the alliance was sealed.

The ceremony binding the two bloodlines hadn't happened yet, but to keep things simple we'd moved in together long ago.

There was really no reason for me to come back.

Almost everything that was mine had already been carried out.

But for some reason, I still wanted to come and look.

To see when a woman who read the truth off what the dead left behind would finally notice that his promised bride was already preparing to leave.

I'd just sat down on the couch when I heard the lock turning.

The next second, Lorenzo pushed the door open and came in.

"Off early today?"

He bent to change his shoes, his tone as easy as ever.

My heart sank, bit by bit.

Of course.

He hadn't listened to that message at all.

Just like the countless times before, he hadn't even looked at what it said, and out of habit had simply answered with an "Okay."

I opened my mouth, but all I tasted was bitterness.

"How come you didn't bring food home?"

Lorenzo glanced at the empty table, and finally showed a flicker of surprise.

After all, for years, unless something came up, I'd carried back packed meals every single day.

But today there was nothing.

I didn't answer.

Lorenzo didn't seem to notice anything off about me either. He just set his bag down and turned to walk into the bathroom.

From start to finish, he never noticed.

How many things had already gone missing from this home.

Through the bathroom door, I could hear the soft tap of his thumbs on the phone.

Faint, but somehow crystal clear.

Now and then a snatch of word sent through the channels leaked through.

I didn't have to guess. The person on the other end was Sabrina.

We'd fought about this once, actually.

Back then I asked him why he never opened the words I sent through the Family's channels, but answered every single one of Sabrina's, one after another.

He thought I was making a scene over nothing.

"I'm with you every single day. What could be so urgent it has to be put down in writing?"

"If it's an emergency, just call me. If it isn't, we can talk when I'm back at the safehouse, can't we?"

"Sabrina's different. We don't see each other every day, so of course it's normal to talk."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The logic fit together without a single gap.

Fit together so tightly it stuffed every bit of my hurt and resentment right back down my throat.

So after that, I never brought it up again.

But standing here, listening to the alerts go off over and over inside the bathroom, I suddenly found it almost funny.

So it wasn't that he had no time to reply.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking.

The person he talked with just wasn't me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, turned, and went back to the bedroom.

By the time I came out again, Lorenzo was already sitting at the dining table, eating.

A single container sat on the table.

Just one.

I stood there, blank for a couple of seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Why did you only order one?"

His fork paused mid-air. He looked up at me.

"Huh?"

"Did you want some?"

He said it so naturally, even with a touch of confusion.

"I figured you were watching your weight these days, for the alliance ceremony."

Then he dropped his eyes back to his phone.

From start to finish, he never once really looked at me.

If he'd only lifted his head.

He would have seen my eyes, red around the rims.

But he didn't.

My fingers slowly curled in.

"Lorenzo, let's talk."

I pulled out a chair and sat down.

But the moment the chair scraped against the floor, Lorenzo was already on his feet.

"No time."

"Sabrina and I are gaming."

With that, he picked up his water glass and headed straight for the study.

Leaving the container on the table.

Leaving the chair I'd pulled out.

Leaving me sitting there.

The instant the door shut, my chest clamped up, hard.

Like someone had pressed a plastic bag over my mouth and nose.

Even breathing was a struggle.

Before long, the sound of their voice chat drifted out of the study.

The door hadn't shut all the way.

Their conversation came through clearly.

"Lorenzo, are you interested in that new movie that just came out? I've been dying to see it."

There was a smile in Sabrina's voice.

The next second, Lorenzo spoke.

"I knew you'd like it."

"I already bought the tickets. I'll take you tomorrow."

Sabrina laughed out loud right away, the sound coming a half-second too fast, too bright.

"You really are the most thoughtful."

"I only heard a man mention it today, figured I'd surprise you."

A surprise.

Sitting in the front room of the safehouse, I went a little numb.

So Lorenzo wasn't incapable of planning a surprise.

It wasn't that his memory was bad.

It was just that all that patience, that thoughtfulness, that care had never once landed on me.

For Sabrina, he always remembered what she liked.

Always had time for her.

Always willing to take a passing remark to heart.

And for me, there was only ever one line:

"She's a friend, you're my promised bride. How could it be the same?"

The thought of it made me laugh.

Laugh until I nearly cried.

Lorenzo.

If being your bride is this exhausting.

Then I really would be better off as your friend.

The next second.

I drew back my foot and kicked the study door open.

"BANG—"

The crash made Lorenzo whip around.

Almost on reflex, he clapped a hand over his headset mic, frowning at me.

His eyes full of confusion.

"What's wrong?"

I stared at him and bit out every word.

"The dress fitting's tomorrow. Did you forget?"

My voice came out colder than I'd expected.

Lorenzo blinked.

Then a hint of difficulty crossed his face. He went very still, his thumb pressing slow against the heel of his palm.

"I already made plans with Sabrina to see a movie tomorrow."

"The tickets are bought."

He paused, then quickly produced a solution.

"How about you go try on the dress first, by yourself?"

"I wouldn't be much help there anyway. Or you could ask Gianna to come with you?"

A few short seconds.

The reason, the excuse, the alternative.

He'd worked it all out.

It was just that, from beginning to end, canceling the movie had never crossed his mind.

Going with his future bride to try on the dress for the alliance ceremony didn't matter.

Going to a movie with Sabrina mattered more.

I looked at him and slowly shook my head.

"No."

His expression shifted.

Through his headset, Sabrina kept urging him on.

The game had already started its countdown.

His brows drew tighter and tighter.

"Adriana."

"Am I not allowed to have plans of my own?"

"Once the families are bound I have to revolve around you all day, every day?"

That line nearly made me laugh out of sheer anger.

Revolve around me?

When had Lorenzo ever revolved around me?

No word from him while he handled the Family's business.

Buried in his game once the day was done.

Every last detail of arranging this alliance ceremony, dozens of them, I'd handled alone.

The venue, the guest list, the planner, the dress, the photography.

He hadn't even come with me once to choose the rings.

His schedule was always packed full.

It was just that whatever spilled over had never belonged to me.

I looked at him, and a bone-deep weariness washed over me.

There was no point in arguing.

No point in explaining either.

So I only asked him, quietly:

"Lorenzo."

"Is this alliance mine alone?"

By the time the words were out, all that was left in my voice was exhaustion.

"Making a scene."

He dropped those three words, slid his headset back on, and turned back to his game without a glance. As if the argument hadn't been worth a single second of his attention.

A moment later, Sabrina's voice came through the headset.

"It's up, it's up, get in the lobby!"

Lorenzo gave a soft laugh.

"Women. Always so much trouble."

"Sabrina, whenever you get married, don't ever be like this."

The words had barely left him when a bright, bell-like laugh rang out on the other end. I stood where I was, cold all over.

Lorenzo and I had met young, back when the families still drank together at the old neighborhood haunt, before the alliance was ever spoken aloud. When we were first promised to each other, he did love me, truly. He'd walk the long corridors of the estate with me at night, remember which back-street vendor sold the espresso I liked, ride an hour out past Marchetti territory just to take me somewhere I wanted to see.

Back then he didn't say much, but he was attentive.

Later I complained that he never answered my words sent through the channels. He said:

"I don't like talking."

"Typing's a hassle, listening to messages is a hassle too."

"I'm like this with everyone."

So I believed him. I even made excuses for him. That was just how he was; it didn't mean he didn't care about me.

But later I found out. Some words can't survive being put to the test.

Because Lorenzo listened to every single message Sabrina sent. He'd reach out to her on his own at two in the morning when he couldn't sleep. He remembered what games she was into lately, what films she was watching, what she wanted to eat. Their record of words ran on and on. More, even, than everything that had ever passed between Lorenzo and me in all our promised years.

And wherever Sabrina surfaced, in whatever quiet corner of the Family's circles, you'd always find Lorenzo somewhere near. Almost every time, he was there.

And me? He had never once reached out to me first.

It felt like I'd swallowed a needle. Most of the time I couldn't feel it. But every breath carried a dull, hidden ache.

That night, Lorenzo didn't come back to the bedroom. He stayed in the study all night long, lost in the screen's glow.

The next morning, before I left, I set a note on the dining table.

【See you at the salon for the alliance ceremony.】

【There's something I want to talk to you about.】

He could skip the messages. He could ignore the words sent through the channels. A note, surely, he couldn't fail to see.

Some people aren't blind in the eyes. They're blind in the heart.

At the salon where the ceremony gowns were fitted, I sat from morning until dusk. The cup of hot water in front of me went cold and was refilled, refilled and went cold again.

One couple after another came in laughing. One man held up the hem of his bride's gown. One crouched on the polished floor straightening a train of silk. One held up his phone for photos, telling her how beautiful she looked today.

And beside me, the seat stayed empty.

By the third time a girl came to refill my water, she couldn't quite hide the awkwardness on her face.

"Miss Falcone……"

"We're about to close for the day."

She didn't finish. But I understood. That unspoken pity was harder to bear than any comfort.

I left the salon alone.

On the way back, I kept opening the trail Sabrina left behind her. The newest word had gone out half an hour earlier.

【Oh yeah, made it! Checked in!】

The photo was of the big screen inside a theater. In the bottom left corner, a familiar hand threw up two fingers. Long fingers, a ring on the ring finger. I knew it at a glance.

That was Lorenzo.

In that moment, I almost found it funny.

So while I was sitting in the salon waiting for him, he was off watching a film with someone else.

If slipping back into the safehouse the union had given us had only been one more chance I was giving Lorenzo, then this was the moment I should truly give up.

When I reached the foot of our building, I happened to glance toward the corner of the street. In the little place we used to go to so often, two familiar people were sitting.

Lorenzo had his back to the door. Sabrina sat across from him, talking about something with her whole face lit up. She was laughing, delighted. And Lorenzo was laughing too.

Just like the way he used to be when he talked with me.

Then Sabrina noticed me first. The smile froze on her face.

"Adriana?"

Lorenzo turned, following her gaze. The instant our eyes met, the air seemed to set solid. All around us the place was still loud with voices. But between the three of us hung a strange, nameless awkwardness, the kind of silence that falls in a room when someone reaches for a weapon nobody can see.

"Adriana, come sit!"

Sabrina quickly pulled out the chair beside her. I didn't refuse. I sat down slowly.

"Adriana, how did the fitting go today?"

She was trying hard to find something to say. But the moment the words came out, the air only grew stiffer. She tucked her hair behind her ear, then again, the second time too quick.

Lorenzo's hand, holding a skewer, visibly paused.

Before I could answer, he suddenly raised his voice.

"Waiter!"

"Thirty more beef skewers, ten pork, and add a mango smoothie."

I knew. He felt guilty. This was his way of making peace. A pity it was too late.

Before long the smoothie arrived. The weather was too hot; the ice had already started to melt. Lorenzo pushed it in front of me.

"Go on, eat it."

"It'll melt if you wait any longer."

I lowered my eyes, glanced at it, and didn't move.

Lorenzo frowned. "Isn't mango smoothie your favorite?"

The words landed. And Sabrina suddenly laughed out loud, a half-second too fast, too bright.

"You idiot. The one who likes mango smoothie is me."

The air went quiet at once.

Lorenzo froze. He went completely still, his thumb pressing into the heel of his palm. The awkwardness on his face came up plain to see.

"Sorry……"

He scratched the back of his head without thinking. "I got it mixed up."

I looked at him quietly, saying nothing.

The truth was he hadn't mixed it up. He had simply never remembered in the first place.

Because all these years, the one who ate with him was me. The one who did the ordering was me too. He'd never had to bother remembering what I liked.

So he didn't know. My favorite was strawberry milkshake.

He didn't know either. That I was severely allergic to mango.

I lowered my head. And under the two of them watching, I slowly scooped up a spoonful of the mango smoothie. And put it in my mouth.