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A distant crackle of fireworks briefly interrupted the silence on Luca‘ s line, followed by a heavy sigh.
“Elena, not this again,” his voice carried a hint of weary irritation.
What did he mean by ‘not this again‘ ? He had broken his promise, and now I was being blamed for feeling hurt?
Anger surged within me at his response, and I snapped back, “I know exactly where you are and what you‘ re doing right now, Mr. Marcelli! Social media is a legit thing, you know! Maybe you should ask Isobel not to post your pictures so freely if you don’t want everyone to see them!”
With that, I ended the call and set my phone to silent.
Rising from the bed, I walked to the closet where I had stashed my suitcase. As I
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opened it, my gaze landed on the red gift. bag tucked away behind my suitcase. I had bought it last week–a deep navy–blue custom dive bag, the exact shade of the ocean at dawn, Luca‘ s favorite time for diving.
I ignored the gift bag and pulled out my suitcase, quickly packing my belongings. I was determined to leave this lavish
penthouse tonight. After all, it was
Luca‘ s, and I would be the one vanishing from his life since I was the one who initiated the breakup.
Two hours later, I had finished packing. I called a cab, loaded my things, and headed to a smaller, more affordable apartment in the suburbs where I had lived a few years.
ago.
***
It had been two years since I last stayed in this apartment. My parents had given it to me shortly after I secured a position as a writer at Dream Creatives. Initially, I had
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chosen to stay here to avoid burdening Luca with my needs in the city.
To make a long story short, Luca decided it would be more practical for me to live with him. He had a chauffeur to take me
wherever I needed, and we could see each
other more often if I lived with him.
Luca insisted on this arrangement. Lacking a solid argument against it, I agreed and had been living with him ever since.
A pang of regret struck me, a sharp. reminder of the growing distance between
- us.
It felt tragic that I only noticed how often Luca was with Isobel after moving in with. him. It made me question: what was the point of living together?
As I stumbled into my old apartment, weighed down by exhaustion, I left my belongings in the living room. I headed to my bed, pulled off the plastic cover from the mattress, grabbed a clean sheet from
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the linen closet, and collapsed into sleep.
Luca and I–the two of us were physically close, yet our hearts seemed to drift apart with each passing day. How did things end up like this?
When the alarm jolted me awake the next morning, I reached for my phone out of habit.
Luca had left messages:
[Elena, don‘ t be envious. I saw Tattle and as Isobel’s post shows, it was a last- minute business meeting. Isobel asked for my help with a deal involving an overseas company.]
[Stop being immature. We‘ re both adults. Come home when you‘ ve settled down.]
So now I was immature?
Luca’s message had effectively ruined my mood–first thing in the morning!
I tossed my phone onto the bed and ignored it as I shuffled into the combined
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living room and kitchen. Grabbing a bottled drink I’d left out from yesterday, I tried to shake off the frustration that Luca’s words had stirred up.
The term “immature” kept echoing in my mind, igniting small bursts of anger from
within.
Was I truly that immature?
I had lost count of the times Luca had canceled our date plans, postponed his own meetings, or delayed family dinners. just because Isobel needed him for her “emergencies.”
I couldn’t forget the night Isobel had begged Luca to visit one of Dicelore‘ s private residences because she was terrified after watching a horror movie.
For heaven’s sake!
Who in their right mind watches.
something that frightens them so much? Besides, Isobel was never truly alone at the residence. Her staff was always there,
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ensuring her safety and comfort.
Yet, Luca changed out of his pajamas and into casual clothes. “Isobel needs me,” he said, “so I have to go for a bit.”
I was appalled and tried to argue with him.
But he said, “There’s nothing between us, Elena.” He sighed heavily, deliberately avoiding my name, “Elena,” and rubbed his temple–three signs of his growing irritation. “I’ve told you this before.”
Then, Luca looked directly at me and added, “But if your mind is already made. up, is there any point in trying to persuade you otherwise?”
With that, he left the penthouse, taking his own car keys and driving to wherever Isobel was, rejecting his chauffeur’s offer every time.
The day after our arguments, Luca would always find a way to win me back with a surprise romantic date. I could see the effort he put into each ‘makeup‘ date
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and, inevitably, I would always forgive him.
We’d reconcile, our relationship. seemingly repaired. Then the cycle would start again, over and over. It became hard to remember our dates without ‘Isobel‘ being the trigger, especially after Luca and I went public.
Did he think I was too naive to see the
pattern?
Yes, I was easily pleased–I admit that. But it was because I didn’t see the point in constantly arguing with someone I loved so deeply.
Not this time. I finally saw the reason why I needed to stop.
Luca had feelings for Isobel, and it was time I accepted that.
That was why I had to stop falling for him- once and for all.
