Eight Years Wasted on an Unopened Message

Lorenzo's voice cut off mid-sentence.

I followed his gaze.

Sabrina was crouched outside the door of the safehouse.

The moment she saw us, she shot to her feet.

"You're finally back."

"You don't answer my messages, you don't pick up when I call through."

She rubbed her numb calf, complaining like she'd been wronged.

"This is so annoying."

"Are we doing the cards tonight or not?"

Lorenzo froze for a second.

An obvious apology crossed his face.

"Sorry, I forgot."

Then, almost by reflex, he turned to look back at me.

As if he were waiting to see how I'd react.

I said nothing.

I just stepped past them and walked straight inside, pulling the heavy door open myself.

Footsteps followed quickly behind me.

Lorenzo came in.

His voice low.

"Let me make you something warm first."

"Eat, then get some rest."

"Sabrina and I will be in the study. We won't bother you."

He almost sounded like he was asking my permission.

A shame.

I didn't care anymore.

"Whatever."

Two flat words, and that was all.

Lorenzo seemed to sense something.

After a moment of silence, in the end he didn't go into the study.

Instead he knocked softly on my door.

"I'm going to take Sabrina back first."

"There's broth on the table. Let it cool a little before you eat it."

The door closed behind him.

The whole safehouse went quiet again.

I came out of the room.

The bowl on the table was still steaming, the faint scent of garlic threading the still air.

I sat down there.

Waited from noon into the afternoon.

From afternoon into dusk.

The clock hand crept forward, bit by bit, the only sound in a room that held its breath.

That door never opened again.

The truth was, I'd known all along.

From the second Lorenzo said he'd take Sabrina home, I knew he wasn't coming back.

Because for all these years.

It had always been like this.

I was always last in line.

Always the one assumed to understand, the one assumed to wait. A settled asset, sealed by the elders, attended by no one.

Five o'clock in the evening, on the dot.

I swallowed the last mouthful of broth, got up, and washed the bowl clean.

Then I dragged my suitcase to the door.

I looked back once at this place I'd lived in for three years.

It held the best times Lorenzo and I ever had.

And the countless disappointments I'd gotten through alone.

I used to think.

This would be where we belonged.

Only now did I see.

It had only ever been my own delusion.

The door swung slowly shut.

A single click.

Like something snapping clean through.

And in that same instant.

The eight years between Lorenzo and me were left behind in that safehouse forever.

Six thirty in the evening.

Lorenzo finally came back.

The moment he pushed the door open, he stopped short.

The safehouse was frighteningly quiet.

None of the familiar sounds.

No lights on.

And no one sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come home.

A nameless unease suddenly clamped around his heart.

He started calling me through the channels.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

His words vanished into nothing.

Only then did he panic.

His fingers shook as he opened the record.

And there it was, the one message he'd ignored.

He tapped play.

Three short seconds.

My voice came through, clear.

"Let's break the pact."

The air froze on the spot.

Lorenzo stared at the one word he'd sent back.

【Okay.】

His breath caught, as if something had been cut off at the root.

The phone slipped out of his hand.

It hit the floor with a crack.

Only then did he look around like a man gone mad.

My things weren't in the bathroom.

My clothes weren't on the balcony.

Half the bedroom closet stood empty.

The vanity was frighteningly bare too.

Every trace of me had been disappearing, piece by piece, without his ever noticing when.

The whole place was hollow enough to make the chest go tight.

Lorenzo stood in the middle of the room.

The color draining from his face by degrees. His thumb pressed slow against the heel of his palm, the old habit surfacing in the silence.

While that one line kept echoing in his ears.

Not until this moment.

Did he finally understand.

I hadn't been throwing a tantrum.

I really didn't want him anymore.