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As the police led Darren away, Krystal turned back to Lorenzo. She gently took his hand again, voice soft now. “It’s just a shallow cut. Nothing too deep. But you still need to get it cleaned and bandaged.”

She reached for his arm to guide him, but Lorenzo pulled away—only to lift his hand and cup her cheek, his thumb brushing softly across her skin.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You called, and I wasn’t there.”

Krystal didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly walked over to a nearby bench at the bus stop and sat down, letting the silence swallow the chaos around them.

Lorenzo followed and sat beside her.

After a long beat, he asked, his voice softer now, edged with worry. “Why did that man attack you?”

Krystal answered calmly, “I’ll handle this on my own. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself. And… thank you for today.”

He stared at her and then muttered “If you really want to thank me,” he said quietly, “don’t go through with the divorce.”

Her breath caught, but only for a second. Krystal’s face remained composed, though the storm inside her eyes darkened. She could still hear Esther’s voice over the phone. ‘Lorenzo’s busy. You should know people have lives. Stop calling him all the time.’

Krystal couldn’t forget what Esther had said on the phone. How Lorenzo had been too busy with her to even care.

Her lips lifted into a bitter smile. “A decision is a decision. You can’t kiss someone and just take it back like it never happened.”

Instantly, Lorenzo answered. “Then kiss me back.”

Krystal blinked, stunned, before her gaze snapped to his. “Mr. Moretti, since when did you become this shameless?”

He leaned back slightly, a shrug in his shoulders, but his gaze never wavered. “I saved your life today. Just repay the favor.” His voice dipped into something teasing but strangely vulnerable. “I’m still your husband. One kiss isn’t too much to ask.”

Krystal turned her face away, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of road. The silence between them thickened, wrapped in all the things neither of them had said when it mattered.

Then, his voice broke through again. Low, gravelly. “I know I hurt you… when I asked for the divorce. But I’m willing to do anything for you now.”

Krystal nodded slowly, but her heart felt hollow—like a house once filled with warmth now echoing with nothing but silence. After giving him everything—her love, her trust, her entire life—he had tossed divorce papers at her like she was a contract to be canceled. A transaction.

At first, she hadn’t even cried. But later, alone, reality crept in. She kept wondering how far he would go for Esther. How little she had meant to him.

She turned her head toward him, and shook her head. “Thank you, but after a divorce, it’s better to keep your distance from your ex.”

Lorenzo stilled. The color drained from his face. He pressed a hand lightly to his chest—right over his heart—almost as if trying to physically hold himself together.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, his voice rough.

Krystal’s lips parted. Krystal hesitated. “I can’t say.”

But the absence of a 'no' lit something desperate in his eyes. A flicker of hope broke through the cracks in his composure. “Then I still have a chance?”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “You don’t understand, Lorenzo.”

She took a deep breath and turned her head, meeting his gaze. “You were always standing on the other side of the wall. And I was always on this side, waiting. You never saw what it felt like to wait for someone all day. Every time it rained heavily, or the sun scorched, or snow piled too high, I’d hope that maybe this time, you’d worry about me and come home instead of waiting for me to come to you. That just once, you’d think, ‘this must be hard on her.’”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on. “I gave up everything—my name, my job, my dignity. I shrank myself to fit into your world. And what did I get in return?” She looked him in the eyes, unflinching. “A divorce agreement.”

She took a breath, her face drawn but sincere. “I used to chase after you, take care of you, worry about you. But I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

Her voice trembled, but her eyes held firm. Sincere. Sad.

Lorenzo felt each word land like a blow to the chest. A lump rose in his throat, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say. He had everything now—his success, his empire, the freedom he once thought he wanted.

He had never really seen her—not truly. She had stood beside him every day, a constant presence, and yet he’d treated her like background noise. Their marriage had started as a convenience, a calculated decision sealed in ink. And yet, she had loved him without asking for anything back.