There's No Afterlife for Love

Late that night, I was still wearing blood-soaked clothes. The wound on my shoulder had grown cold, and waves of pain pulsed through it.

Soon, the injury became infected, and a fever that wouldn't break set in.

As my mind blurred, memories of the past surfaced.

Shortly after Salvatore and I got married, he had given me a period of what looked like devotion while I was carrying his child.

Dishes had to be made with the finest ingredients. Fruit had to be flown in the same day.

Whenever I walked around the house, the housekeepers were always ready to roll out carpets beneath my feet.

He would gently stroke my belly like it was the most precious thing in the world.

But I knew better. All he ever saw was the child in my stomach. It was his bargaining chip that could help secure his position.

Before Nicola's accident, I had allowed myself to sink into that false warmth for a while. I had even tricked myself into believing we were like an ordinary married couple.

How foolish.

No matter how well-fed and beautifully groomed a canary was, it was still trapped in a cage. That so-called tenderness was nothing more than a pet owner baiting the bird to keep breeding. Once it stopped being obedient and lost its value, it would be left out in the cold.

There had never been any real love from the start. It had always been a clear transaction.

The final day of the contract happened to fall on the seventh anniversary of my marriage to Salvatore.

Early that morning, Valentina sent me a message to show off.

"Salvatore's throwing me a huge birthday party today. It's going to be in your bedroom. You'll come and give us your blessing, won't you?"

I stared at her taunting message before blocking her and deleting every way she had to contact me.

Luca called soon after. "Alessia, Nicola's on the ferry. He's safe for now."

The weight I had carried for seven long years finally lifted.

"Thank you for everything," I said.

"You don't have to thank me."

After I hung up, I felt lighter than I had in years.

I had just put my phone down when Salvatore slammed the door open.

"Since you're home now, stop playing dead," he warned. "It's Tina's birthday today. Go bake a cake and deliver it to the room we used when we first got married."

I looked at him coldly.

Without a word, I turned around, pulled out a document, and handed it to him. "Sure. As long as you sign this, I'll bake the cake."

Salvatore didn't even bother reading the paper. He signed it right away.

"Done. Now hurry up and get to work."

Just as he turned to leave, his movement slowed. He glanced back at me, studying my face.

Whenever I got upset, there was always hurt or accusation in my expression. But today, I was unusually calm. For some reason, that made him uneasy.

"What did you make me sign?" he asked.

"It's nothing important. Just the deed to a dock," I replied, lowering my eyes as I folded the document. "I'll go bake the cake now."

He watched me for a few seconds, clearly unsure what to think. In the end, he said nothing more and left.

I returned to my room.

Designer clothes and luxury bags filled the closet. They were all gifts from Salvatore, decorations meant to dress up his canary.

I didn't take a single one of them. Instead, I placed the freshly signed divorce agreement beside the prenuptial contract from seven years ago on Salvatore's bedside table.

Once I was done, I left through the back door.

Goodbye, Salvatore.

Goodbye to the absurd seven years of my youth.

At the docks, I wore a mask and boarded the ferry. Just as the ship was about to depart, the phone in my pocket suddenly started vibrating like crazy.

It was Salvatore.

I stared at his name on the screen before hanging up without the slightest hesitation. Then, I removed the SIM card and tossed it into a trash can.