I Don't Love You Anymore, Don Vitaly

In the middle of the night, I felt thirsty. I got out of bed to go downstairs to get myself a glass of water, only to see Leo taking a call on the balcony. He spoke softly, but I could hear his conversation clearly. "All right. Be good. Just bid for whatever you fancy at the underground auction tomorrow. Don't worry about how much it will cost. Be a good girl, all right? I'm a little busy during this period, and I can't be by your side all the time."

What a loving tone. It was a tone that used to belong exclusively to me, but not anymore. I listened for a while as I stood behind him quietly with the glass of water in my hand. I listened as he spoke gently to the woman on the other end of the call, cajoling her and telling her to be good, just like how he used to say to me.

After a while, I found it pointless and turned away, but he suddenly called out to me, "Bella? When did you come downstairs?" He had hung up. "I was just…" He attempted to explain.

"I was thirsty and came down for a glass of water," I interrupted him. "Feel free to continue. I'm fine."

Leo came over to me and tried to grab my wrist, but I had already turned to walk upstairs. When I turned the corner, I could see him watching me go upstairs from the corner of my eye. If this were before, I would have run back toward him and jumped into his arms to coyly ask him who he was on the phone with and what he was talking about for such a long time. However, this time, I did not even look back at him.

The next morning, Leo poured me a glass of milk during breakfast. It was a habit of his to do it for me, and I would finish the glass of milk every time. After which, he would smile softly at me while reaching out to wipe away milkstains from the corner of my mouth and leaning down to kiss me on the forehead. He would say, "Take it slow. No one is going to take that milk away from you."

I would reply, "Of course I have to be quick. You never stay to have breakfast with me." He would sit back down at the table after that and accompany me a little longer for breakfast.

However, this time, I did not touch the glass of milk. I poured myself a warm glass of water instead, and saw his smile freeze on his face, but he said nothing.

Leo picked up his coat to leave. "I'm going out for a while."

"Okay," I replied.

When he got to the door, he stopped to look at me. "Isn't there anything you want to ask me?"

I did. If this was before. I would have asked every detail I could think of. I would have wanted to know where he was going, what he was doing, how long he would be out, and who he would be with. I wanted to know if the person he was with was a man or a woman, what time he would be coming back, and whether he would make it back in time for dinner.

Somewhere down the road, I had lost all sense of security and lived in constant fear that he would leave me. This was probably caused by the first time when I caught a whiff of unfamiliar perfume on his shirt, the first time he stayed out until 3 in the morning, and the first time when I realized that his loving look at me had transformed into annoyance.

Fortunately, this was all in the past for me. I replied nonchalantly, "Nope."

Leo stood at the door for a few seconds. His lips moved, as if wanting to say something, or he could be waiting for me to call out to him, but he stayed silent in the end, and turned to leave.

After he left, I returned to the room to unpack my luggage. There was nothing much in there as I did not want to bring back any of the clothes I had worn at the sanatorium. Those clothes only gave me painful memories. I did not want to be reminded of how I was forcefully held down and force-fed medications, nor did I want to remember listening to the echoes of my screaming while being locked up in the room next door, or how my limbs were tied down as I bit onto a rubber bit while I experienced electroshock therapy.

My luggage contained a photo of my parents and me, and a diary I wrote while living in the sanatorium. I flipped it open. Every page contained only one sentence.

[First day: Isn't he coming to pick me up?]

[Third day: He might be busy. I just need to wait a little longer.]

[Seventh day: The nurse's aide told me I had called him 137 times, but he never picked up any of my calls.]

[15th day: I called him again. I called him 30 times, but he never picked up my calls.]

[23rd day: The treatment hurt really badly today. I wish he could hold me in his arms.]

[31st day: I miss my parents so much. Nobody loves me anymore, and even he is bullying me.]

[40th day: It's my birthday today. No one remembers it. The nurse's aide gave me an extra meal portion, saying that it counts as a birthday cake.]

[63rd day: I haven't thought about him for three days. The doctors say I'm getting well soon.]

[120th day: If I get out of here alive, I don't want to love him anymore.]

I closed the diary and threw it into the garbage bin.

Leo returned very soon with three of his buddies. They stayed in the study to discuss family business, but the door was not closed properly, and I could hear their conversation from the living room.

"How are things between you and Bella, Leo?" It was Nico, the man who had commented about how flexible I was in bed.

Leo replied calmly, "Not bad."

Luca, who had said I should be more adventurous in bed, spoke up next, "She's acting much more normal now. All she's doing is reading in the living room. She didn't even react when she saw us. I thought she would go crazy at the sight of us."

Nico continued, "To be honest, isn't your little lover, Sophia, being a little too high profile? She didn't even blink when bidding for that 70 million pink diamond necklace at the auction today. She's even going around telling everybody that you gave it to her."