By the time Enzo returned to the house, the sky had already turned dark. The living room lights were off. Only the entryway lamp was on, casting a pale glow across his exhausted face.

Giovanna heard the door and immediately stood from the couch, hurrying toward him.

“You couldn’t find Lily?” she asked softly, her voice careful, almost timid. She held his coat in her hands, offering to help him take it off.

Enzo didn’t take it. He stepped aside, avoiding her touch, his eyes filled with fatigue.

“You knew she was leaving, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly, fixing his gaze on her. His voice was cold and sharp.

Giovanna froze. Then, her eyes reddened, and tears burst out fast.

“How would I know that?” Her voice trembled as she clutched the hem of her shirt. “I just… I just didn’t want you to leave with her. I got a little emotional, that’s all.”

She reached out as if to touch his arm, but she eventually pulled her hand back, looking even more pitiful.

“The day I said she pushed me… I was scared. I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

Enzo frowned but said nothing. His eyes drifted to the bandage on her forehead.

Seeing his glance, Giovanna suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud and grabbed his pant leg tightly.

“I saved you. You can’t doubt me!” she cried, her shoulders shaking. “If I hadn’t pulled you out when the Camorra attacked you back then, you would’ve–”

Enzo cut her off. “Get up.”

He reached down and helped her to her feet, his voice losing some of its edge.

“I’m not doubting you. I’m just… overwhelmed.” He sighed and walked over to the couch, lowering himself onto it.

Giovanna immediately moved closer, gently patting his back. “I know you’re hurting. I’ll stay with you. I’ll treat you better than Lily ever did.”

Enzo didn’t respond. His eyes were distant, fixed on the stack of documents on the table—files for the afternoon’s meeting that I had placed there on purpose.

Suddenly, he stood up and headed for the guest bedroom. He pushed the door open. The closet door was wide open, and nearly everything was gone. Only a few old pieces of clothing remained.

The nightstand drawer was cracked open. Inside, the metal box lay empty. He picked it up, fingers tracing the pattern on its lid. It used to keep the brooch, the handkerchief, and a spent bullet casing that he’d given me inside it—all the little memories we had shared. Now, everything was gone.

“She’s really not coming back,” he murmured, his voice hollow with disbelief.

Giovanna walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

“It’s better if she doesn’t. We can build our life together now. I’ll help you with the Camorra negotiations and gain you even more power.”

Enzo didn’t push her away, but his mind drifted to me—how cautious I always was when I hugged him, how neatly I folded his shirts, and how I made his coffee just the way he liked it. Something inside him felt missing, like a piece of him had been cut out.

He pulled out his phone and called me again, but my phone was still turned off. The cold, mechanical tone echoed harshly in his ear. He tossed the phone onto the couch, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.

Seeing that he wasn’t rejecting her, the corner of Giovanna’s mouth curled into a faint smile that was gone just as quickly.

She spoke gently, “Don’t think about it. You have a meeting with the Camorra tomorrow. Let me sort your documents. You should rest.”

Enzo nodded, too drained to speak. He accepted Giovanna’s version of events for now, but deep down, unease twisted in his chest, as if something was being hidden from him, tucked away just out of sight. However, at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

His mind was filled only with the image of me, the woman who had always been patient with him, gentle with him, and whom he had pushed away with his own hands.