For the first time in a long while, I felt beautiful. Truly beautiful. Beautiful as a woman who did not define herself by the presence—or absence—of Enrico Ferrara in her life.
Clara had left early, excited to sleep over at Júlia’s. And without her, that house fell silent. Empty. Perfect for leaving and forgetting—even if only for a few hours.
I went downstairs, my heels echoing firmly against the cold marble.
And because the universe had a cruel sense of humor, the very moment my feet touched the living room floor, I heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.
Enrico walked in.
His jacket was half open, his tie loose around his neck, his hair messy—as if he’d spent the entire day fighting some invisible fire only he could see.
Our eyes met instantly.
He didn’t ask anything.
But he looked.
Oh, how he looked.
His gaze traveled down my body slowly, like hot oil running down my spine, burning every inch it touched. I held my breath involuntarily, my heart accelerating in a way that irritated me.
I exhaled sharply, forcing the moment into words.
“Clara’s sleeping at Júlia’s,” I said simply, in case he’d forgotten.
He nodded—just a brief, almost imperceptible movement—but his eyes stayed on me, analyzing me in that unbearable, heavy silence.
I took another deep breath.
“I’m not having dinner at home tonight.”
His jaw tightened immediately. A small, almost invisible tremor. But I saw it.
“Good night, Enrico,” I added, already impatient with his silence.
Nothing.
Not a word in response.
Just that unbearable look that seemed to want to lock every door in the house and make me forget any path that didn’t end in his bed.
“Enrico?” I pressed, sharper now.
Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet mine directly—and I almost stepped back at the intensity I found there.
“Good night,” he replied at last, his teeth clenched, his voice hard as stone.
That was it.
No other words. No provocation. NoWho are you going with?orYou’re going out dressed like that?
I turned my back slowly, every muscle in my body tense, alert—waiting for a reaction.
None came.
No protest. No question. No attempt to stop me.
And that was the moment I realized something terrible:
