At six in the morning, the sky was barely turning bright when I walked into the living room with a cup of coffee. The heat from the mug burned my palm, yet somehow my chest felt frozen stiff.

Giovanna was already sitting on Enzo’s lap, twirling my thorned rose pendant between her fingers. It was my coming-of-age gift from Papa. I’d torn the whole place apart looking for it last week and never found it. Now, she dangled it by the chain, giving me a smile sharp enough to cut me.

“Morning, Lily. Enzo said this pendant belongs to me now.”

“Can you give it back?” I tightened my grip on the cup, knuckles going white. The rim dug painfully into my palm, and my own voice shook.

She let out a snort and pushed up her sleeve. A twisted burn scar snaked down her arm from elbow to wrist.

“I got this ten years ago from saving Enzo. Do you have anything like that?”

She leaned closer, her perfume brushing against me. It was her last year’s birthday gift from me—the same perfume Enzo told me to buy because he said Giovanna would love it.

Enzo helped her off his lap, trying to sound soothing. “Enough.”

Then, he turned to me, his tone colder. “Giovanna’s staying in the master bedroom. It’s easier for us to discuss the partnership. You’ll stay in the guest room for a few days. Once the deal with the Camorra is done, things will go back to normal.”

“Okay.” I nodded without arguing and walked into the guest room.

The moment the door clicked shut, tears burned behind my eyes, but I didn’t let a single one fall.

I reached into the hidden compartment of the wardrobe and took out a metal box. Inside were the things he’d given me over the past three years. There was a silver rose brooch with our initials carved into the pin, a few empty bullet casings from our first trip to the shooting range that he’d said we should keep as souvenirs, and a faded handkerchief, blood-stained with dark red.

Three years ago, during a shootout at the docks, he took a bullet for me. Back then, he’d told me, “Keep this. It’s proof I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.”

I pinned the brooch to the inside of my coat, right above my heart, as if holding on to a tiny bit of warmth. I folded the handkerchief into a neat square and slipped it into the side pocket of my backpack, while the casings went into the lining of my suitcase. Then, I reached under the bed for the stash of cash, threading it into the coat’s inner seams, every stitch small and tight.

By evening, Enzo walked in carrying a plate of raspberry macarons. They used to be my favorite, and he used to drive halfway across the city just to get them.

“Don’t be upset. My feelings for you are real,” he said, softer this time. “Once the deal with the Camorra is settled, I’ll cut things off with Giovanna.”

I picked up one macaron and took a bite. The sweetness tasted bitter, like swallowing a needle dipped in sugar, scraping down my throat.

“I understand. You should go. She’s waiting in the living room,” I said, keeping my voice calm, hiding everything underneath.

He let out a relieved breath and left, not noticing that I hadn’t taken a second bite.

I leaned toward the door and peered through the thin crack. The living room lights were still on. Enzo sat on the couch, with Giovanna curled against him.

I spat the macaron into the trash. The last bit of hope in my chest dissolved with that sugary taste.

At four in the morning, a violent pounding on the door snapped me out of my shallow sleep. The pounding was heavy and frantic, shaking the door so hard that it vibrated on its hinges.

I jolted upright, instinctively keeping my steps quiet so I wouldn’t wake Enzo. However, the second I cracked the door open, Giovanna shoved it wide with full force. The impact knocked me backward. I stumbled two steps and hit the wardrobe hard.

She marched straight into the guest room, hands on her hips, her eyes wide and wild.

“Where’s my coat? Where did you hide it?” she yelled, her voice shrill as she started ripping through my closet, and hangers clattered loudly as she yanked them off the rod.

My shirts and dresses flew across the floor, my neatly folded clothes scattering like torn paper.

“I haven’t seen your coat,” I said, standing at the doorway as a cold dread spread through me.

She wasn’t looking for anything. She was picking a fight—one she wanted Enzo to walk in on.

Suddenly, Giovanna spun around and lunged at me, grabbing my arm. Her nails dug into my skin so hard I gasped. Before I could pull away, she threw herself backward, and her forehead slammed into the doorframe with a sickening thud. Blood welled instantly, sliding down her temple.

“Enzo! Lily pushed me! She threw my things everywhere!” she screamed, her voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet dawn.

Enzo’s footsteps thundered from the master bedroom. In seconds, he was there. He yanked me away with such force that I crashed into the wall. A dull ache shot up my spine, but I bit down hard, refusing to cry out.

He didn’t even look at me. Instead, he crouched beside Giovanna, holding her gently.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? I’ll take you to the hospital.” His voice was full of worry, and his fingers brushed her cheek, wiping the blood with a softness that I had never seen before.

Giovanna leaned into his arms, sobbing as she shook her head. “I’m fine. I fell on my own. Don’t blame Lily for it.”

Then, she glanced at me. Her eyes glinted with triumph, like a cat proudly showing off the mouse it had cornered.

Enzo finally turned my way. His gaze was as cold as winter frost.

“Lily, I’m very disappointed in you.” The disappointment in his tone stabbed my heart.

“I didn’t push her,” I said quietly, voice trembling. “She hit the door herself, and she threw my clothes–”

“That’s enough.” He cut me off sharply, irritation showing in his frown. “I’m taking Giovanna to the hospital. Clean this place up.”

He stood, lifting Giovanna into his arms. “We have a video conference with the Camorra at three o’clock this afternoon. Don’t mess things up.”

He started toward the door, then paused to give one final command. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay inside. It’s not safe out there.”

“Okay.” I nodded and watched them disappear down the hallway.

As I leaned against the wall, my tears slipped out at last, falling onto my shirt and soaking through the fabric. However, I didn’t have time to cry for long. If he came back early and found anything off, everything would be over.

Dropping to my knees, I started gathering my clothes one by one, folding them quickly. Then, I pulled out the suitcase hidden behind the entryway cabinet, unzipping it slowly so it wouldn’t make a sound and attract unwanted attention.

I checked my essentials. My clothes, passport, and cash were all there. On the living room table, I scattered the documents he would need for the afternoon meeting, just enough to make it seem like I’d only stepped out for a bit and would return soon.

I left the house key on the entryway cabinet, pinning it under a note that said, “Hope the partnership goes well.”

After that, I eased the door shut behind me, as quietly as if I were trying not to wake a sleeping giant.

Outside the building, the early-morning air was cold against my cheeks.

I waved down a cab, pulled the door open, and slid inside. “The central train station, please. And can you go fast? I’m in a hurry.”

The driver nodded and stepped on the gas. I took one look back at the building and didn’t look again.

At noon, Enzo brought Giovanna back from the hospital. He was carrying a small brown bag filled with disinfectant and bandages. Giovanna leaned gently against him, a strip of gauze taped to her forehead, her face pale.

When he pushed open the front door, the living room was empty. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching even the dust in the air.

His first instinct was to call out, “Lily?”

There was no response but only an echo circling the room.

“Have you organized the documents? We’ve got a video conference with the Camorra at three.” He raised his voice on the second call, but still nothing.

A hint of unease crept into him. I was usually obedient, and even when I was upset, I still handled whatever needed to be done. I never just disappeared.

Giovanna sat on the sofa and squeezed some ointment onto her hand. She said softly, “Maybe she’s in the guest room. She apologized to me this morning, so she shouldn’t be angry. She’s probably just tired and taking a nap.”

Enzo nodded and headed to the guest room. However, when he pushed the door open, the room was spotless. It looked like no one had lived there at all, and the raspberry macarons on the nightstand were still perfectly arranged, untouched.

He checked the master bedroom next, only to find Giovanna’s clothes hanging inside the closet. He checked the study, finding that the drawers were shut tight with no signs of disturbance. He checked the kitchen, but the coffee machine was cold, and the sink was empty.

He searched every corner of the house, even the storage cabinet on the balcony, and there was still no sign of me. Yet, the faint scent I always left behind seemed to hover in the air.

As he walked to the entryway, pulling out his phone to call me, he froze. Sitting on the cabinet was the spare house key that I always kept with me. Now it lay there quietly, and under it was a folded note.

He picked it up and opened it. The note read, “Hope the partnership goes well.”

The message hit him hard. His grip tightened, knuckles going pale as the note crumpled under his fingers.

“No,” he growled, disbelief cracking through his voice. “Impossible.”

He dialed my number. His hands were trembling so hard that he could barely press the screen.

A mechanical tone answered him, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable.”

He tried again and again, but the same automated message replied to him each time.

He bolted out of the house. Downstairs, the security guard was reading a newspaper in the booth when Enzo grabbed him by the arm so abruptly that he dropped the paper in shock.

“Did you see Lily? A woman in a beige coat!” His voice was frantic, every breath unsteady. “About thirty minutes ago–Did she leave here?”

The guard nodded rapidly, stammering, “Y-Yes! I saw her! About half an hour ago. She took a cab headed toward the central train station!”

Enzo released him and stumbled back a few steps. His heart clenched, as if an invisible hand had reached inside and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe.

He had always assumed that I was just throwing a small tantrum, that I would calm down in a few days. He thought I wouldn’t leave him, that I would wait for him to settle things with the Camorra. Never did he imagine that I would actually walk away without saying goodbye, leaving behind just a key and a note.

He sprinted to his car, fumbling with the ignition. His hands shook so hard that he didn’t even fasten his seatbelt before hitting the gas. He ran through two red lights on the way, the scenery outside blurring past.

His mind flooded with memories of me, of the first time he saw me standing beside Papa in a white dress, my smile bright and innocent; of how I argued with the elders to help him gain control of the docks, refusing to back down even when they called me “ill-behaved.”

He remembered that I visited him every day when he was recovering in the hospital, bringing him food I had made myself. I had held his hand and cried, “You can’t get hurt. I’m scared to be alone.”

I had even given him a pair of silver cufflinks for his birthday last year, saying, “I hope you think of me every time you wear them.”

Each memory hit hard, each one like a punch to the chest. Only now did he finally understand that I wasn’t without anger or hurt. I had simply swallowed the pain, his lies, and his betrayals quietly.

“Lily… don’t leave,” he whispered, tears slipping down his face. “I was wrong. I’ll cut things off with Giovanna. I’ll end the deal with the Camorra.”

When he got to the central train station, he jumped out of the car and ran inside. The station was packed with travelers dragging their luggage through the crowds.

“Lily! Lily!” he shouted, scanning the faces around him.

His voice quickly turned hoarse, but he didn’t stop. When he saw a woman in a beige coat, he rushed toward her and tapped her shoulder, heart in his throat. However, when she turned around, it wasn’t me. He then spotted another similar figure and ran again, but still, he was wrong.

He ran around the station a couple of times until sweat soaked through his shirt. At last, he sank against a pillar, gasping for breath as people streamed past him.

His chest felt hollow, like something vital had been carved out. Only then did he understand that he hadn’t just lost a woman. He had lost me, the one person who had loved him wholeheartedly and given him everything I had.