You Were My Goodbye

The fever hit hard.

I was delirious, every bone aching, shivering under the blanket.

The wind howled outside. In my haze, I dreamed of the past.

I was on Nico's back. "Nico, what if I die?"

He walked steadily, his voice soft. "Don't say that. It's just a fever. You'll be fine after a shot."

"Hey, do you have enough money? Shots are expensive."

"It's fine."

"How can it be fine? How much do you have left?"

He didn't answer. He carried me into the hospital, crouched in front of me, and said seriously, "As long as you're okay, I'm okay."

I was bundled up in a thick coat. "When Mom and Dad stop fighting, I'll ask them for money to pay you back."

Nico touched my hair, his eyes gentle. "Trust me. You're going to be fine."

But I wasn't fine.

The night Nico was sent to the East Coast on family business, I came home and opened my parents' bedroom door.

My father had another woman in his arms.

That was the beginning of my fall.

Then came the screaming fights. Then my father was shot dead by my mother. My home vanished.

Late one night, my family's enemies broke in.

The chandelier swinging. Men's excited shouts. Dull pain on my skin. The sickening feel of hands. My mother's hysterical screaming—all mixed into a boiling, churning mess in my head.

Then time fast-forwarded.

My mother drowned in the bathtub—by their hands.

Chiara found me, half-clothed, and took me far away to the West Coast.

On a rainy day, I sat curled in a hospital corner in a patient gown, my face blank.

"She has a genetic psychiatric condition. Any family?"

Chiara looked at me with worried eyes. "She has a boyfriend. On the East Coast."

"Contact him." The doctor used clinical terms. "She's at high risk for suicide. Treatment will be long and difficult. She'll need someone with her for years."

I was in no state to plan revenge.

Chiara and I were like two stray dogs. We fled everything we'd ever known.

The same day, Nico got the chance to expand into Europe.

He called.

There was wind on his end.

"Valentina," he said, tenderly. "I promise you. In three years, I will marry you."

I watched the iron gate close behind me. There was no way back home.

"Nico… I don't think I can be with you anymore."

I swallowed the sob. Tears fell silently.

He stopped breathing. "Why?"

I opened my mouth. For a moment, I hesitated.

His future was so bright.

And I—parents dead, violated by multiple men.

Would I really chain him to me? Trap him on this gray, rainy coast?

Through a window, a girl cried behind a fence. The boy's face showed nothing but numbness and disgust.

I saw the light die in someone's eyes. It was devastating.

The wind lifted my hair, revealing bruises and bite marks on my neck.

Finally, I wiped my tears and said, "Nico, take care of yourself. We're done."