Chapter 4: The Moment I Finally Walked Away

Chiara followed my gaze to the opened box of condoms on the nightstand.

She said nothing, just waited, expecting me to finally lose control.

I only said, “I have things to do. Please hurry.”

“Then check the walk-in closet next door.”

I followed her into the adjoining room.

A suitcase lay open on the floor, half-packed with clothes. On top sat another, unopened box of condoms.

Chiara seemed determined to make her point.

“I’m just packing a few things. Matteo and I fly out tomorrow for the match.”

When I didn’t respond, she smiled. “The World Cup final is only once every four years. Tickets are impossible to get.”

“A lot of people want to go, but there are only so many seats. There’s no room for you. It doesn’t matter how long you wait; it’s not going to happen.”

That was it. My patience snapped. My voice turned to ice.

“I came for my quilt. The one Matteo gave you.”

She froze for a second before her face softened into a mask of innocence.

“Celeste, what are you talking about? Don’t misunderstand.”

“I was just talking about the match. I didn’t mean anything else.”

I made myself perfectly clear. “I am here for my quilt. That is all.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then feigned a sudden realization.

“Oh, I know where it is now. Come with me.”

I followed her to a third room.

She had converted it into a room for her cat.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw it. The quilt—white with pale green embroidery—was shoved into a litter box.

It was covered in cat urine and feces. The stench was so foul it made my stomach turn.

I stared at the ruined quilt, and a white-hot rage surged through me.

In that infuriatingly fake, apologetic tone, Chiara said, “I’m so sorry, Celeste. My cat can be such a little monster.”

“It’s just a quilt, right? I can buy you a new one.”

“Matteo really spoils him too much.”

I raised my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face.

“You did this on purpose.”

“Celeste!”

Matteo’s voice cracked like a whip from behind me.

He rushed forward and pulled Chiara into his arms, his first instinct to inspect the red mark blooming on her cheek.

Tears instantly welled in Chiara’s eyes. Her voice came out as a soft, trembling whisper. “Matteo, don’t be angry with Celeste.”

He turned on me, his face thunderous. “It’s a quilt! Was that really necessary?”

My eyes burned. I raised my hand and slapped him, too.

“Yes, it was.”

The force of it snapped his head to the side, a matching red handprint appearing on his own cheek.

He stared at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Celeste, what the hell is wrong with you?”

I met his stunned gaze. “This isn’t me losing my mind,” I said, my voice low and steady. “This is me being done.”

“Matteo, my only regret is wasting twelve years of my life on you.”

Then I turned and walked out.

“Stop making a scene!” he yelled after me.

The next day, after my last handover at work, I dragged my suitcase to the airport.

On the way, I got an iMessage from Chiara.

“I ordered you ten new quilts online. They should arrive in a couple of days, so make sure you’re there to get them.”

“Matteo and I are about to board. My cat is high-maintenance, so I made a list for you.”

“Just follow the instructions.”

A message from Matteo came through a moment later.

“I’ll be back on the ninth, on time. We’ll go to City Hall together.”

I looked at the message and laughed.

Matteo, whether you come back or not has nothing to do with me anymore.