Nothing Waits Forever, Not Even Love

Vincenzo tried to sound casual, as if the coldness on the phone days ago had never happened.

"It's about my finances," I said without looking at him, and started to walk away.

Vincenzo strode forward, loosening his tie and wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Baby, I'm home."

In the past, I would have turned around, gently caressed his face, and given him a smiling kiss.

But now, as his familiar scent filled my nostrils, a wave of nausea washed over me.

I didn't want to say another word to him.

I shoved his arms away and walked straight into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

The click of the lock echoed in the silence. Vincenzo stood frozen, at a complete loss.

He couldn't understand why I was still throwing a tantrum. He was home now, so why was I still giving him the cold shoulder?

Vincenzo was angry. He took several deep breaths in the living room before composing himself.

"Forget it," he muttered to himself. "No matter how educated she is, she's still just a woman in the end. It's normal for women to be petty and jealous."

"She loves me to death anyway. A little coaxing is all it will take…"

With that thought, Vincenzo let out a soft snort and headed for the bathroom.

I had slept terribly in the hospital, haunted by images of Vincenzo defending the Rossi siblings every time I closed my eyes.

Even though I had decided on a divorce, letting go of so many years felt like tearing my soul from my body.

Wiping my tears, all I wanted was to sleep.

Just then, Vincenzo, trailing steam from his shower, pushed open the bedroom door, lifted the covers, and lay down beside me.

Before I could push him away, his long arms were already wrapped tightly around me from behind.

His searing chest pressed against my back. He leaned in, his calloused fingertips tracing my waist, his touch meant to ignite a familiar spark.

"It's been three months, Elara."

His lips brushed against my carotid artery, his voice hoarse. "Stop sulking. I know you want this."

Before, I would have melted in his arms. But now, the unhealed incision on my abdomen throbbed with a dull, insistent pain.

His touch at this moment felt utterly revolting.

"Don't touch me!"

Using all my strength, I shoved him away.

Vincenzo felt he had already humbled himself enough. He couldn't understand what I was still so angry about.

With an impatient sigh, Vincenzo sat up in bed.

"Elara, what more do you want from me? I saw those vicious texts you sent Chloe."

"Yes, Chloe and I grew up together, but I only see her as a sister. Why do you have to make us sound so sordid?"

"And Marco, he's like a blood brother to me. We've been through life and death together!"

"You lied about an ectopic pregnancy, and I let it go. You call to check up on me constantly, and I can forgive that. But can you just stop being so unreasonable?"

If I had any lingering reluctance about the divorce, it all turned to ash in that moment.

I looked at the man I had loved for eight years and felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"Vincenzo, I'm tired."

I pointed to the door. "Get out."

Vincenzo froze.

In this home, in all of New York, no one dared to tell him to "get out."

"You're telling me to get out?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

This was our home, our sanctuary. Where did I expect him to go?

But before he could demand an answer, the phone on the nightstand rang.

Vincenzo glanced at the screen, and the anger on his face vanished instantly.

"Vincenzo! Blood… so much blood!"

Chloe's terrified voice pierced through the speaker. "Marco's coughing up blood! The doctors are just shaking their heads. I'm so scared, you have to come!"

The color drained from Vincenzo's face. He was off the bed in a flash, grabbing his coat and rushing for the door while speaking into the phone.

"Don't panic. I'm on my way."

As I heard the front door slam shut, I finally closed my eyes.

But I didn't sleep. The thorn in my heart wouldn't let me rest.

On some strange impulse, I got up and dressed.

I was going to the hospital.

Not to win him back or to pick a fight.

I was going to serve him the divorce papers in person and make a clean break, once and for all.

When I arrived at the private hospital controlled by the De Luca family, the door to the top-floor VIP suite was slightly ajar.

Inside the somber room, Marco lay ashen-faced, an oxygen tube in his nose.

He opened his cloudy eyes and looked at Vincenzo with a pleading gaze.

"Vincenzo, I'm not going to make it…"

"The only person I can't bear to leave behind is Chloe… She's too innocent. This world will eat her alive."

"Brother, I'm asking you for one last thing…"

Marco was gasping for air, but every word he spoke was a dagger in my heart.

"Swear on the Family's name… marry Chloe. Give her the De Luca name, and protect her for the rest of her life."