Eight Years Wasted on an Unopened Message

That glass of mango smoothie, I drank it down swallow after swallow, every last drop of it.

Lorenzo sat across from me, on the verge of saying something, then swallowing it back.

But right up to the end, he never remembered.

Never remembered that I was allergic to mango.

And he certainly never remembered the night I'd accidentally eaten a dessert with mango folded into it and ended up half-dead before dawn, with him sitting up beside me until the worst of it passed, his men posted outside the door.

All those things that had happened between us, it turned out only I still remembered them.

Late that night, my whole body was burning.

Huge patches of red rash spread from my neck all the way down my arms, the itch boring into me.

I forced myself up off the couch and went digging for the allergy medicine.

When the safehouse light came on, I turned my head without thinking.

For one moment, I thought Lorenzo had finally remembered.

But the next second, he just walked past me with his eyes half closed and went straight into the bathroom.

"Middle of the night and you're not sleeping. What are you looking for?"

His voice was rough with sleep.

But he didn't even glance at me.

And after he asked, he didn't wait for an answer at all.

He flushed, then turned and went straight back to the bedroom.

The second the door shut, the room went quiet again.

I looked down at the allergy medicine in my hand and felt, all at once, so tired.

Too tired to even have the strength to say how much it hurt.

In the end I sank slowly down, hugged my knees, and sat on the floor while the tears slid down without a sound.

In that moment, it came to me.

My love was already dead.

That same night, I canceled everything to do with the alliance ceremony.

The arrangers, the photographer, the cars, the venue on neutral ground.

One after another, through the Family's private channels.

Like tearing down, with my own hands, the future I'd once looked forward to more than anything.

The next morning, I was woken by Lorenzo's voice.

"Adriana!"

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"What's wrong with your skin? Where did all this rash come from?"

I opened my eyes.

Lorenzo was crouched in front of me.

The worry and panic in his eyes almost spilling over.

We looked at each other.

And there was a strangeness to it I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Dio..."

The next second, he shot to his feet, and for just an instant his thumb pressed hard against the heel of his palm.

"I forgot, you're allergic to mango!"

His guilt came out of nowhere.

Pulling strings at the Family's clinic, signing me in, getting the medicine, standing while the doctor worked.

Rushing around the whole way.

Exactly like a man who loved his promised bride.

While the IV dripped, the nurse watched Lorenzo hurrying back and forth and couldn't help teasing with a smile,

"Your husband treats you so well."

I followed her gaze.

Lorenzo was striding back over with the slip in his hand.

A faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Once, I would surely have thought it was happiness.

But now, there wasn't the slightest ripple inside me.

Well?

If he really treated me well,

he wouldn't have left me sitting alone at the ceremony arranger's until they locked the doors.

He wouldn't have forgotten the things I liked.

And he certainly wouldn't have forgotten, clean and completely, that I was allergic to mango.

I tugged my lips up a little and said nothing.

Three full hours.

Lorenzo stayed beside me the entire time.

His phone lit up several times, the channels calling for the heir.

He didn't look at it once.

The truth is, I knew.

Lorenzo had always been serious about Family business.

While the work ran, he hardly spoke to anyone.

Even with Sabrina, he mostly reached out only after the day's matters were settled.

But there was no point reading the evidence now.

On the way back to the safehouse after the IV, the car was quieter than usual.

As we neared home, Lorenzo suddenly thought of something.

"Right."

"Yesterday you said there was something you wanted to talk over with me. What was it?"

My hand stopped on the seatbelt.

My heart gave a faint sting.

So he remembered.

So he'd known all along.

He just hadn't taken it to heart.

I lowered my eyes.

"It's nothing."

There was nothing left to talk over.

Because the outcome was already in.

The whole way, Lorenzo kept trying to find things to say.

"Should I make you red bean porridge tonight?"

"That's your favorite, isn't it?"

"Once you're better in a day or two, let's go out to eat."

He said a lot.

But not a word of it got through to me.

The elevator doors slid slowly open.