Page 35 of The Ruin I Chose

Not again. Not from him. Not when he touched me like I was sacred and left me like I was forgettable. Not when he broke me open just to walk away whole.

CHAPTER 15

ROXANNE

Marcello led me to the private wing of the resort.

I saw the staff carrying my bags, shifting them into the villa.

As my phone buzzed, I excused myself to a secluded spot where no one could hear. I answered.

“Mummy?” Kyra sobbed, her voice small and broken.

I could hear it in her voice—in every trembling breath.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I miss you. When are you coming back?”

I looked towards the terrace, where Marcello was instructing the staff. He looked so composed, so in control—while I broke quietly from the inside. I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding back a fracture I couldn’t show.

“Soon,” I said softly. “I’ll be home soon.”

Then my husband took the phone from her hand.

“Come soon. We miss you. We have a lot to discuss and work through,” he said, smiling.

My stomach tightened. His voice used to be comfort, but now it felt like a net closing around me. The words caught me off guard.

Why now?

Why did he have to use our daughter to try and patch things up? To work things out?

My heart twisted—torn between the man who had once been my home and the one who now haunted my skin.

I wiped my tears and hung up. I stared at the screen, heart thudding. His voice had been calm as though he’d rehearsed it. Like he knew exactly which words would twist the knife. My chest caved. I’d never felt more split between two worlds—one that needed me, and one that made me feel alive.

When I stepped out, Marcello took my arm and led me to his favourite spot. His fingers grazed my waist, and he paused, just long enough to sense something amiss

The evening sun had started to set. The terrace stretched the length of the private wing. The parapet was stone, overlooking the vast horizon. To one side: a bamboo-covered seating area with linen cushions and low tables. To the other: a pool that shimmered in the fading light. It felt like his own villa inside the resort.

The waves lashed against the walls below. I breathed in the air, closing my eyes. I had to tell him the truth. Especially after today. After hearing him say that word—Mine.

I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to hide anymore. If this meant anything—if we meant anything—he had to know. The thought hollowed me out, thick and choking.

Part of me already knew it could end everything. Because I felt like a cheater. Cheating on Marcello. On my husband. On my child. I needed to tell him. About my life. About Kyra. About the marriage that had long since died but hadn’t been buried.

I didn’t want to be a beautiful lie in his life. If he was going to touch me again, he needed to know what he was touching. And I hated that part of me prayed he wouldn’t walk away.

I didn’t owe Marcello an explanation—but I felt I did. His kiss on my shoulder pulled me out of the spiral.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I croaked, holding back tears.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I replied with a half-smile.