That glass of mango smoothie, I drank it down swallow after swallow, every last drop of it.

Lorenzo sat across from me, on the verge of saying something, then swallowing it back.

But right up to the end, he never remembered.

Never remembered that I was allergic to mango.

And he certainly never remembered the night I'd accidentally eaten a dessert with mango folded into it and ended up half-dead before dawn, with him sitting up beside me until the worst of it passed, his men posted outside the door.

All those things that had happened between us, it turned out only I still remembered them.

Late that night, my whole body was burning.

Huge patches of red rash spread from my neck all the way down my arms, the itch boring into me.

I forced myself up off the couch and went digging for the allergy medicine.

When the safehouse light came on, I turned my head without thinking.

For one moment, I thought Lorenzo had finally remembered.

But the next second, he just walked past me with his eyes half closed and went straight into the bathroom.

"Middle of the night and you're not sleeping. What are you looking for?"

His voice was rough with sleep.

But he didn't even glance at me.

And after he asked, he didn't wait for an answer at all.

He flushed, then turned and went straight back to the bedroom.

The second the door shut, the room went quiet again.

I looked down at the allergy medicine in my hand and felt, all at once, so tired.

Too tired to even have the strength to say how much it hurt.

In the end I sank slowly down, hugged my knees, and sat on the floor while the tears slid down without a sound.

In that moment, it came to me.

My love was already dead.

That same night, I canceled everything to do with the alliance ceremony.

The arrangers, the photographer, the cars, the venue on neutral ground.

One after another, through the Family's private channels.

Like tearing down, with my own hands, the future I'd once looked forward to more than anything.

The next morning, I was woken by Lorenzo's voice.

"Adriana!"

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"What's wrong with your skin? Where did all this rash come from?"

I opened my eyes.

Lorenzo was crouched in front of me.

The worry and panic in his eyes almost spilling over.

We looked at each other.

And there was a strangeness to it I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Dio..."

The next second, he shot to his feet, and for just an instant his thumb pressed hard against the heel of his palm.

"I forgot, you're allergic to mango!"

His guilt came out of nowhere.

Pulling strings at the Family's clinic, signing me in, getting the medicine, standing while the doctor worked.

Rushing around the whole way.

Exactly like a man who loved his promised bride.

While the IV dripped, the nurse watched Lorenzo hurrying back and forth and couldn't help teasing with a smile,

"Your husband treats you so well."

I followed her gaze.

Lorenzo was striding back over with the slip in his hand.

A faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Once, I would surely have thought it was happiness.

But now, there wasn't the slightest ripple inside me.

Well?

If he really treated me well,

he wouldn't have left me sitting alone at the ceremony arranger's until they locked the doors.

He wouldn't have forgotten the things I liked.

And he certainly wouldn't have forgotten, clean and completely, that I was allergic to mango.

I tugged my lips up a little and said nothing.

Three full hours.

Lorenzo stayed beside me the entire time.

His phone lit up several times, the channels calling for the heir.

He didn't look at it once.

The truth is, I knew.

Lorenzo had always been serious about Family business.

While the work ran, he hardly spoke to anyone.

Even with Sabrina, he mostly reached out only after the day's matters were settled.

But there was no point reading the evidence now.

On the way back to the safehouse after the IV, the car was quieter than usual.

As we neared home, Lorenzo suddenly thought of something.

"Right."

"Yesterday you said there was something you wanted to talk over with me. What was it?"

My hand stopped on the seatbelt.

My heart gave a faint sting.

So he remembered.

So he'd known all along.

He just hadn't taken it to heart.

I lowered my eyes.

"It's nothing."

There was nothing left to talk over.

Because the outcome was already in.

The whole way, Lorenzo kept trying to find things to say.

"Should I make you red bean porridge tonight?"

"That's your favorite, isn't it?"

"Once you're better in a day or two, let's go out to eat."

He said a lot.

But not a word of it got through to me.

The elevator doors slid slowly open.

Lorenzo's voice cut off mid-sentence.

I followed his gaze.

Sabrina was crouched outside the door of the safehouse.

The moment she saw us, she shot to her feet.

"You're finally back."

"You don't answer my messages, you don't pick up when I call through."

She rubbed her numb calf, complaining like she'd been wronged.

"This is so annoying."

"Are we doing the cards tonight or not?"

Lorenzo froze for a second.

An obvious apology crossed his face.

"Sorry, I forgot."

Then, almost by reflex, he turned to look back at me.

As if he were waiting to see how I'd react.

I said nothing.

I just stepped past them and walked straight inside, pulling the heavy door open myself.

Footsteps followed quickly behind me.

Lorenzo came in.

His voice low.

"Let me make you something warm first."

"Eat, then get some rest."

"Sabrina and I will be in the study. We won't bother you."

He almost sounded like he was asking my permission.

A shame.

I didn't care anymore.

"Whatever."

Two flat words, and that was all.

Lorenzo seemed to sense something.

After a moment of silence, in the end he didn't go into the study.

Instead he knocked softly on my door.

"I'm going to take Sabrina back first."

"There's broth on the table. Let it cool a little before you eat it."

The door closed behind him.

The whole safehouse went quiet again.

I came out of the room.

The bowl on the table was still steaming, the faint scent of garlic threading the still air.

I sat down there.

Waited from noon into the afternoon.

From afternoon into dusk.

The clock hand crept forward, bit by bit, the only sound in a room that held its breath.

That door never opened again.

The truth was, I'd known all along.

From the second Lorenzo said he'd take Sabrina home, I knew he wasn't coming back.

Because for all these years.

It had always been like this.

I was always last in line.

Always the one assumed to understand, the one assumed to wait. A settled asset, sealed by the elders, attended by no one.

Five o'clock in the evening, on the dot.

I swallowed the last mouthful of broth, got up, and washed the bowl clean.

Then I dragged my suitcase to the door.

I looked back once at this place I'd lived in for three years.

It held the best times Lorenzo and I ever had.

And the countless disappointments I'd gotten through alone.

I used to think.

This would be where we belonged.

Only now did I see.

It had only ever been my own delusion.

The door swung slowly shut.

A single click.

Like something snapping clean through.

And in that same instant.

The eight years between Lorenzo and me were left behind in that safehouse forever.

Six thirty in the evening.

Lorenzo finally came back.

The moment he pushed the door open, he stopped short.

The safehouse was frighteningly quiet.

None of the familiar sounds.

No lights on.

And no one sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come home.

A nameless unease suddenly clamped around his heart.

He started calling me through the channels.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

His words vanished into nothing.

Only then did he panic.

His fingers shook as he opened the record.

And there it was, the one message he'd ignored.

He tapped play.

Three short seconds.

My voice came through, clear.

"Let's break the pact."

The air froze on the spot.

Lorenzo stared at the one word he'd sent back.

【Okay.】

His breath caught, as if something had been cut off at the root.

The phone slipped out of his hand.

It hit the floor with a crack.

Only then did he look around like a man gone mad.

My things weren't in the bathroom.

My clothes weren't on the balcony.

Half the bedroom closet stood empty.

The vanity was frighteningly bare too.

Every trace of me had been disappearing, piece by piece, without his ever noticing when.

The whole place was hollow enough to make the chest go tight.

Lorenzo stood in the middle of the room.

The color draining from his face by degrees. His thumb pressed slow against the heel of his palm, the old habit surfacing in the silence.

While that one line kept echoing in his ears.

Not until this moment.

Did he finally understand.

I hadn't been throwing a tantrum.

I really didn't want him anymore.