He Hid His Daughter for Six Years,I Lost Mine Because of Her

The next day, I had no idea how Dante found me.

He stood in front of me and slipped off his coat, draping it over my shoulders. I looked up at him and forced a smile.

"Dante, that thing you wanted to talk about. I agree."

"What I mean is, you're free."

He smiled bitterly, and his hands went still.

"Lena… so you already guessed."

He lowered his head, opened another bottle, sat down beside me, and drank.

"It's not what you think. I just don't want to be trapped in this marriage anymore. I want to live my own life."

"But Lena, this isn't about not wanting you. I'll come back and remarry you."

I almost laughed. In his eyes, was I really that easy to fool?

Then again, he'd been fooling me for six full years.

That year, Lena Winslow had shown up at my house, drunk out of her mind, and told me she'd slept with some man and was carrying his child. Before that, back in the Catholic university lab, Dante had nearly been disfigured in an explosion. It was Lena Winslow who had stepped forward and pulled him from the wreckage. So I wanted to help her. But she'd buried her face and drained an entire bottle of wine.

"Don't bother. This is something I want to take to my grave."

And only now did I learn the truth: her child was Dante's.

They had deceived me again and again.

Two people, hiding it from me for six years.

I had gone to that discreet clinic countless times, let them push those thick needles into my belly. I hated myself for being so stupid, for believing every word he said.

Now I would rather he told me the truth to my face than be deceived one more time.

If he wanted a divorce, then I would give him his freedom.

I turned my head and slipped the ring off my finger. The motion felt natural, as though I'd rehearsed it in some quiet part of myself I hadn't known existed. I placed it in Dante's palm.

"This is the ring your mother gave me."

"Now it goes back where it belongs."

He stared at the ring, stunned, and something disbelieving flickered through his eyes.

"Lena Moretti." It was the first time he had ever called me by my full name. "I told you I'd come back and remarry you. Why don't you believe me?"

I searched his eyes, desperate to find the secret of his betrayal somewhere inside them. But there was nothing. Not a crack. Not a tell.

Dante, you really are that good at pretending.

Watching his expression twist, I gently pushed his hand away.

"I believe you."

"So… when do we sign the papers?"

He pressed his lips together in a smile, thinking I was being reasonable, and pulled me into his arms.

"Whenever you're ready. We can go anytime."

I closed my eyes, and the tears fell on their own.

After this was done, I, Lena Moretti, would belong only to myself.

He carried me back to the brownstone and, like always, had already cooked dinner. He pressed his face gently against mine, the clean scent of his sweat slipping into my nose.

"Lena, I'm going to shower. You eat first, alright?"

I sat at the table. The same dishes as always.

The snow peas were Lena Winslow's favorite.

And the braised pork trotters. The greasy kind I hated most.

He kept placing slick cuts of braised pork onto my plate. When I didn't touch them, he asked, "I thought this was your favorite?"

But the one who loved those dishes had only ever been Lena Winslow.

Looking at the food, I had no appetite left.

While I sat there, lost in thought, a knock sounded at the door.

I opened it and found the last person I expected. Lena Winslow, the woman who had vanished for six years.

She covered her mouth with one hand. Behind her, clutching a small doll with a ribbon twisted around her fingers, stood Lucia. Lena Winslow dropped to her knees in front of me with a heavy thud.

I had imagined her coming back a thousand times over the years.

But never once had I imagined she would appear as the other woman.