Page 12 of The Ruin I Chose

I stepped into my hotel room and let the door click shut behind me. For a moment, I just stood there still, breath shallow, the scent of Marcello clinging to my skin like a secret.

I peeled off my clothes slowly. Each layer felt heavier than it should have. My blouse. My bra. My trousers. I let them fall to the floor like offerings. Then I stood in front of the mirror naked.

My body was soft full. Some days I’d hated it, but tonight, it felt like armour. My breasts were round and heavy, slightly uneven. My hips, wide and generous, the kind that had carried life. My thighs—strong, dimpled, real. They’d carried me through heartbreak, through labour, through years of pretending I didn’t ache. A faint appendicitis scar curved along my lower abdomen, pale and stubborn. I traced it with my finger, then let my hand drift upward, imagining his touch, cupping my breast.

The way his eyes had lingered. The way my body had responded when he pulled me close. I didn’t hide the flaws. I didn’t need to.

Tonight, I felt beautiful. I sank into the tub, the water warm and scented with bergamot and cedar. My eyes shut, head tilting back.

The dinner replayed in fragments—his voice, his gaze, the way he’d pulled me close when danger brushed past us. The way I’d melted into him like I belonged there. Just ask my hand sunk below the water, I heard a soft click. I didn’t flinch. I already knew who it was.

But still my pulse jumped—with expectation I didn’t want to name. Ritu barged into the bathroom, wrapped in a hotel robe, slippers flapping, a lollipop tucked between her lips like she’d walked out of a rom-com.

“Tell me,” she said, wide-eyed, voice muffled around the candy. “Spill. Now. Before I combust.”

I opened my eyes slowly, the steam curling around my face like a veil. I smiled, telling her how the evening unfolded. She listened, grinning ear to ear, her eyes wide with delight and disbelief. I stepped out of the tub, wrapping myself in a bathrobe. Ritu trailed behind me into the room, still buzzing.

“I’m going to Florence,” I said, almost to myself.

Saying it out loud made it real yet dangerous.

“You mentioned that earlier,” she replied, confused.

“With him,” I responded.

She gasped, the lollipop clattering into her palm.

“Whaaaaat?”

I didn’t answer. I just looked at her.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, it was fun and games with the flirting and dinner. And now you’re heading to a city. With a complete stranger. Though a handsome one.”

Her voice was almost screaming.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Truth be told, for the first time in my life, I don’t know. I’m not leading. I’m just… following.”

And it felt terrifying. And thrilling. Like I’d stepped off the edge and was still waiting to land.

“But you’re letting a man follow you to Florence. You showed him your itinerary, for God’s sake.”

“I know. Something about him just let me agree. Maybe it’s the thrill I need. To get some spice into my boring life.”

She stared at me, then softened.

“You’re treading dangerous waters, girl.”

Dangerous, yes. But it was the first thing in months that felt alive.

I stayed silent. My mind drifted to my daughter. Her little voice. Her little hands. My whole world.

“I’m just a phone call away,” Ritu said, stepping closer, embracing me in a sisterly hug.

“You message me your location. Always. I love you. You know that.”

“I know,” I whispered.