"Adriana, I'm glad you finally understand."

Salvatore's expression softened, as if my silence had become the answer he wanted.

"These next few days, I'll stay with Gemma and accompany her through her appointments. If you need anything, call me."

He paused for a moment.

"I promise I won't ignore you again."

Before I could respond, he turned around and walked out.

The sound of his footsteps slowly disappeared down the corridor of the Family's medical wing.

Only then did the emptiness around me become unbearable.

The pain in my chest twisted violently, sharper than any wound I had ever endured.

The last piece of hope I had been foolishly holding onto finally shattered.

I had once believed that no matter how much he cared about Gemma, there was still a place in his heart that belonged to me.

I had believed that when it came to our child, he would choose us.

But I was wrong.

I thought of the baby who had already formed inside me.

My child.

The little life I had protected for months.

At the moment my baby needed him most, the one person who could have saved him was nowhere to be found.

His father.

The greatest Surgeon of the Family.

The man everyone trusted with their lives.

He was unreachable.

And in the end, my child left this world in my arms.

The baby had struggled for breath, but the father who should have been there never came.

That kind of pain could not be described.

It felt as if someone had torn my heart apart and left me bleeding from the inside.

I bit down hard on my pale lips, gripping the blanket until my fingers turned numb.

But no matter how tightly I held on, I couldn't bring my child back.

A week later, I was discharged from the medical wing.

There was no one beside me.

No Salvatore.

No member of the Family.

I handled every arrangement myself.

During those seven days, Salvatore never once called.

Not even a single message asking if I was alright.

Yet news about Gemma reached me constantly.

Everyone in the Family knew how much effort he had put into caring for her.

The rare tonics he personally searched for.

The small sweater he knitted himself for her unborn child.

The meals he carefully prepared and personally delivered to her.

Every little thing he did for her was something I had never received.

Not once.

After I became pregnant, there were countless nights when I could only eat cold food alone.

Salvatore always had reasons.

The wounded needed him.

The Family's medical operation needed him.

There were too many emergencies.

Too many people depending on him.

But now, when it came to Gemma, he suddenly had endless time.

He could sit beside her.

He could worry about her.

He could remember every detail about her.

The latest piece of news reached me with a photograph.

Gemma sat in the garden, a string of pearls resting elegantly around her neck.

I recognized them immediately.

They were the same pearls Salvatore had once promised to buy for me when I was carrying our child.

At that time, he had held my hand and told me,

"When our baby is born, I'll give you the best things in the world."

I used to treasure those words.

Now, looking at that necklace on another woman's neck, I felt nothing.

No anger.

No jealousy.

No sadness.

Only exhaustion.

It turned out that some pain became so deep that even tears could no longer reach it.

I dragged my weakened body back home.

The moment I stepped into the bedroom, I saw everything I had prepared for my baby.

The tiny clothes folded neatly.

The little blankets I had chosen carefully.

The toys I had imagined my child would hold one day.

My vision blurred.

The tears I had held back for days finally fell.

My baby was supposed to arrive in only three months.

Three more months.

I should have been preparing to welcome my child into this world.

Instead, I was standing alone in an empty room, holding clothes that would never be worn.

The pain was unbearable.

Like a knife slowly cutting through my heart with every breath.

That night, I fell asleep on the bed while clutching my baby's little clothes.

I didn't know how long I had slept.

The sound of voices and laughter from the living room slowly pulled me awake.

My head felt heavy.

My body was still weak.

I forced myself out of bed and walked toward the door.

Through the narrow crack, I looked outside.

My entire body froze.

Salvatore had brought people home.

Several men from the Family's medical network sat around the table, laughing loudly.

And among them was Gemma.

She sat beside Salvatore.

Far too close.

Close enough that no one in the room could mistake the relationship between them.

Then I noticed something that made my fingers turn cold.

The shawl around Gemma's shoulders.

It was mine.

The one Salvatore had given me years ago.

The one he said was meant to keep me warm.

Now it rested on another woman's body.

"Back then, everyone thought you and Gemma would end up together."

One of the men laughed, raising his glass.

"You two were inseparable. Honestly, we all thought she would become Mrs. Moretti."

The others followed with knowing smiles.

Gemma immediately lowered her head, pretending to be embarrassed.

"Stop saying things like that."

She laughed softly.

"We're both married now."

But the smile appeared too quickly.

Almost as if she had been waiting for someone to say those words.

Salvatore noticed her discomfort.

His expression changed immediately.

He placed a protective hand on the table beside her and interrupted.

"You are all grown men. Why do you still gossip like children?"

He lifted his glass.

"Drink."

That familiar protectiveness stabbed into my chest.

After several rounds, the wine took effect.

The room became louder.

Empty bottles piled up across the table.

Laughter echoed through the house.

I lay back in my room, unable to sleep.

Then one of the men finally asked the question that made my entire body tense.

"Salvatore."

His voice carried drunken curiosity.

"You and Gemma never got the chance to be together."

"And now you've married another woman."

"Do you ever regret it?"

The room went quiet.

Even I stopped breathing.

I stared through the crack in the door, waiting for his answer.

Waiting for the words that might destroy me.

Salvatore was silent for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

"Not every path in life leads where we once hoped."

His voice was calm.

"But I will never betray my wife."

"Gemma and I are only family now."

"Being able to sit beside her like a brother is enough."

His words should have comforted me.

They should have proven that I was the one he chose.

But when I looked at him, I saw where his eyes had gone.

To Gemma.

She was asleep on the sofa.

And the tenderness in his gaze was something I had spent years waiting for.

Something he had never given me.

My heart still hurt.

Even though I had already prepared myself.

Even though I had already known the answer.

Hearing him say those words still felt like a blade being driven straight through my chest.

Because the love I once thought belonged only to us...

Was nothing more than something he had never been able to give up.

I slowly stepped away from the door.

Back into the darkness of the bedroom.

For the first time, I understood.

I was never the woman he chose.

I was only the woman he settled for.

That night, I dreamed of the past.

In the dream, Salvatore held me tightly in his arms beside my father's grave.

The rain fell heavily around us, soaking through our clothes, but he didn't let go.

He swore on the blood of both Families that he would protect me for the rest of his life.

That no matter what happened, I would never have to face anything alone again.

Back then, I believed him.

I believed those promises were real.

When I woke the next morning, my pillow was soaked.

Tears had dried across my face without me realizing it.

For a long time, I stared at the empty ceiling.

Then I finally understood.

The man from my dream had never existed.

Only the memories did.

The house was silent.

I was the only person left inside.

The living room was still exactly as it had been the night before.

Wine glasses remained scattered across the table.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Cigar ashes sat cold inside the crystal trays.

The laughter, the voices, the warmth that had filled this place hours ago were all gone.

Only the traces of people who had never truly belonged here remained.

I walked upstairs quietly.

Into the nursery.

Everything inside was prepared for my baby.

The tiny clothes I had chosen one by one.

The blankets I had washed countless times.

The little toys I had imagined my child playing with.

I stood there for a long time.

Then I began packing.

Not a single item remained.

I gave everything away.

Because my child would never need them.

And I no longer wanted to keep reminders of a future that would never come.

That evening, Salvatore called.

His voice was as calm as ever.

"The Family is having a dinner tonight. Everyone's attending."

A pause.

"Wives are expected to be there. I'll send you the address."

I wanted to refuse.

I truly did.

But after thinking for a long time, I agreed.

Perhaps this would be the last time.

The last time I sat beside him as his wife.

The last time I appeared in front of the Family under the name Adriana Moretti.

When I arrived at the private room of the restaurant, everyone was already there.

It was one of the Family's usual locations, a quiet establishment hidden away from the public eye near the water.

The moment I pushed open the door, I stopped.

Gemma was sitting beside Salvatore.

And Salvatore was personally placing food onto her plate.

His movements were natural.

Gentle.

Familiar.

The kind of tenderness I had once waited years to receive.

"Adriana..."

The conversation stopped instantly.

Every person in the room turned toward me.

The atmosphere changed in a heartbeat.

It was the kind of silence that fell when everyone realized something private had been exposed.

For a moment, no one knew what to say.

Finally, Enzo stood and pulled out the chair beside Salvatore.

"Adriana, come sit here. The food just arrived."

I walked over and sat down.

Only then did Salvatore seem to remember my existence.

His expression changed slightly.

He immediately picked up the bowl and served me soup himself.

"Adriana, don't misunderstand."

His voice carried a trace of nervousness.

"Gemma had an examination today. Since she was nearby, I brought her here for dinner."

He reached over and gently patted the back of my hand.

A gesture meant to comfort me.

A gesture meant to convince everyone that everything was fine.

Once upon a time, I would have questioned him.

I would have asked why it was always Gemma.

Why he could remember her appointments but forget mine.

Why he could worry about her child but abandon his own.

But now...

I was tired.

Too tired to fight for something that had never truly belonged to me.

So I only nodded.

Then lowered my eyes and quietly drank the soup in front of me.

At the nearby table, a few young women from the Family whispered among themselves.

"What's going on? Why did the Surgeon bring another woman here and let his own wife arrive alone?"

"I don't know. But everyone knows how much he cares about Gemma."

"Every time she has a check-up, he's there personally. He worries about her like she's made of glass."

"Have you ever seen him look at his own wife like that?"

Their voices were low.

But every word reached my ears.

I pretended I heard nothing.

Because I no longer cared.

Not about Gemma.

Not about Salvatore.

Not about the love they shared.

It was no longer my concern.

A few doctors who worked closely with Salvatore quickly stepped in to change the subject.

Slowly, the tension in the room faded.

The conversation resumed.

Everyone acted as if nothing had happened.

Only I knew that something inside me had already ended.

Halfway through dinner, Enzo had clearly drunk too much.

His face was flushed, and his words became less controlled.

He stood up with a glass of wine in his hand and walked toward me.

"Adriana..."

He looked at me with genuine sympathy.

"Don't be too sad about the child."

"You and Salvatore are still young. There will be another chance."

The room instantly fell silent.

Salvatore frowned.

His expression changed from confusion to concern.

"What child?"

He looked at Enzo.

"What are you talking about?"

Enzo froze.

The drunkenness vanished from his face almost immediately.

His hand, which had been resting on Salvatore's shoulder, slowly stiffened.

For a moment, he looked between the two of us.

Then his expression changed.

"Brother..."

His voice became uncertain.

"You still don't know?"

The air in the room turned heavy.

Salvatore stared at him.

"What don't I know?"

Enzo swallowed.

"That day..."

His voice dropped.

"When Adriana's water broke, she was rushed into surgery."

"No one could save the baby."

"The child..."

He struggled to finish the sentence.

"The baby suffocated."

"It didn't survive."