The Donna He Lost

The next morning, Enzo returned home earlier than usual.

Not with the quiet I had grown used to.

Not with the calm, reserved silence that had always been part of who he was.

But with purpose.

“Get dressed,” he said, holding a small velvet box in one hand and a rolled document in the other. “We’re going to register our marriage today. I already booked the appointment. No waiting, no delays—you’ll still make it to work.”

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Marriage registration.

After four years of emotional purgatory.

After countless nights wondering whether the man I loved even remembered I existed.

He opened the velvet box.

Inside was the wedding ring—now resized to fit my finger perfectly.

“I had it adjusted,” he murmured. “It should be comfortable now.”

My chest tightened painfully.

Was this real?

Was this him choosing me—finally, openly, decisively?

A small part of me—the part that still ached at the sight of him, still reacted to his scent, still remembered the warmth of his hands—whispered:

Maybe he truly loves you.

I slid the ring onto my finger, and it fit like a promise.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”

On the drive to the civil office, Enzo tried to break the tension.

He talked about our honeymoon.

“After the ceremony, we’ll leave for Lake Como. Just three days—enough for you to rest before returning to work. I’ve booked the cliffside villa you liked.”

My heart wavered.

I wanted so desperately to believe him.

To believe that this time he was choosing me without hesitation.

But then his tone shifted—carefully, as though stepping onto thin ice.

“There’s something we should discuss… Lucia.”

A cold ripple slid down my spine.

He cleared his throat. “She’s… ”

Before I could ask what he meant, we pulled up to the registration building.

And just as he turned off the engine—

his phone rang.

Lucia’s name blazed across the screen.

He answered instantly.

A burst of gunfire cracked through the speaker.

Then Lucia’s panicked voice—high, shaking, on the edge of a scream:

“Enzo—please—help! They’re shooting—!”

“What happened?” His voice dropped, tight with alarm. “Stay down. I’m coming.”

He didn’t look at me.

He didn’t explain.

He didn’t even hesitate.

He simply shoved the door open and ran—

toward the danger swallowing her whole.

“Enzo—wait—”

But he was already gone.

I stepped out slowly, the world tilting in a nauseating swirl.

My fingers clutched the ring that only minutes ago had felt like hope.

A wave of vertigo crashed over me.

The sidewalk wavered.

Voices smeared into indistinct noise.

And then everything went black.

I woke the next morning to the sterile whiteness of a hospital room.

Enzo wasn’t there.

Instead, Michael—his right-hand man—stood at the foot of my bed, straightening his tie.

“Ma’am, the boss is handling urgent matters. He’ll come as soon as he can. Don’t worry—nothing about this will delay tomorrow’s wedding.”

Tomorrow’s wedding.

The words felt unreal.

A doctor walked in, flipping through my chart.

“You fainted from low blood sugar and exhaustion,” the doctor said, flipping through my chart. Then, almost absentmindedly, she added, “And with your pregnancy—”

The word slipped out before I could stop her.

I froze.

Michael’s head snapped toward me, eyes widening for a split second.

“I—” My voice shook. “Please don’t tell Enzo.”

The doctor blinked, startled. “I’m sorry, I assumed he was—”

“He isn’t,” I cut her off softly. “Not yet. This is… this is meant to be a surprise. A gift for him.”

I forced a small, brittle smile. “So please. Keep it between us.”

Michael studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“I understand, Miss Bianca.”

The doctor quietly amended the notes and closed the file with a gentle click.

Seeing that I was stable, Michael stepped back, his expression composed again.

“Since you’re fine, I’ll give you some rest,” he said, then left the room.

And just like that, my secret remained safe—

for now.

The moment he disappeared down the hallway, I ripped the IV from my arm and swung my legs off the bed.

I couldn’t stay here.

Not a second longer.

Within ten minutes, I signed my discharge papers and rushed out of the hospital, adrenaline drowning out the lingering dizziness.

I took a cab home, threw clothes into a suitcase, grabbed my passport and ID.

There was no time to think—only to run.

At the airport entrance, traffic slowed at a major intersection.

I glanced absently to my left—

And froze.

In the black Mercedes beside my taxi sat Enzo.

Behind the wheel.

Lucia in the passenger seat.

They were laughing about something—her head tilted toward him, her hand on her belly as if protecting something precious.

A sight I’d never been part of.

A tenderness I’d never received.

Enzo turned his head—

Our eyes nearly met.

My cab lurched forward as the light changed, carrying me away.

Behind us, I saw his lips move—saying my name.

Lucia touched his forearm.

“Bianca? Don’t be silly,” she said, smiling sweetly. “She’s either still in the hospital or at home preparing for tomorrow’s wedding. You must’ve imagined it.”

I didn’t look back again.

I focused on the road ahead—on the plane that would carry me to a life where my existence didn’t depend on Enzo’s scraps of affection.

On the child growing inside me.

On freedom.