Chapter 9: You Already Had Twelve Years

Matteo spent the next two days trying to find me.

He called my old friends.

He checked the apartment buildings I had once mentioned.

He even drove past my parents' house in Vermont.

Nothing.

I had disappeared from every place where he expected me to be.

Then, on the third morning, he received an email from the company that had handled my relocation.

It was an automated notification about an address change for my employment records.

The city was all he needed.

By that evening, Matteo was on a flight.

He told himself he only wanted to talk.

But deep down, he knew he was chasing something else.

He was chasing the version of me who had always waited for him.

When he arrived, he found the new office building listed on my company profile.

He waited across the street for nearly three hours.

Then he saw me.

I walked out with a group of coworkers, laughing about something one of them had said.

I looked different.

Not physically.

There was simply a lightness in me he hadn't seen in years.

I wasn't checking my phone.

I wasn't waiting for his call.

I wasn't looking over my shoulder.

Matteo stepped forward.

“Celeste.”

I stopped.

My coworkers glanced between us.

“I'll catch up with you,” I said.

They walked away.

Matteo stared at me as if he'd been searching for a ghost and suddenly found one.

“You really left.”

I gave him a small nod.

“I told you I was leaving.”

“I thought you were angry.”

“I was.”

He swallowed.

“Can we talk?”

I looked at him for a moment.

Twelve years ago, hearing those words would have been enough to make me forget everything else.

Now they meant almost nothing.

“About what?”

“Us.”

I almost smiled.

“There is no us.”

His expression tightened.

“Don't say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we were together for twelve years.”

“Exactly.”

I looked him directly in the eye.

“Twelve years should have taught you what I needed. Instead, it taught me how little I mattered when someone else wanted your attention.”

Matteo stepped closer.

“Chiara and I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn't accidentally hurt me.”

My voice remained calm.

“You made the same choice over and over again.”

He had no response.

I continued.

“Every World Cup. Every argument. Every time she needed you. Every time I asked you to set a boundary.”

“You always told me I was jealous.”

“I was wrong.”

He looked down.

“I know.”

Those two words surprised me.

Not because they changed anything.

But because they were the first honest words I'd heard from him in years.

“I should have chosen you,” he said quietly.

I shook my head.

“You shouldn't have had to choose me.”

He looked up.

“What?”

“I shouldn't have spent twelve years competing with your best friend for a place in my own relationship.”

His face fell.

“Celeste, please. Give me another chance.”

I took a slow breath.

Then I smiled.

“You already had twelve years.”

I turned to leave.

Behind me, Matteo said the one thing I had once dreamed of hearing.

“I love you.”

I stopped for half a second.

Then I looked back.

“Maybe you do.”

His eyes filled with hope.

I finished quietly.

“But love without respect wasn't enough for me anymore.”

Then I walked away.

This time, I didn't look back.