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Confused, Dante stepped back, scanning the house number again. It was right.
His voice, tight with shock and disbelief, broke the silence. “Where’s the girl who was living here?”
The couple exchanged a glance. The man finally answered, “She emptied the place last night. We got a quick deal and moved in.”
Dante’s heart dropped like a crushing weight on his chest. The cold morning air suddenly feeling even sharper against his skin.
‘I hate you.’ Anya’s voice rang again in his ears.
His legs trembled beneath him, and he staggered, reaching out to clutch the wall for support as a wave of dizziness threatened to pull him under.
“Hey, man, are you alright?” A concerned voice broke through his haze. The older man stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
Dante barely managed a shallow breath, nodding weakly, and pushing the hand away as if it burned. “I’m fine. Thanks.” His voice was hoarse, barely audible.
He swiftly turned, and walked away, every step heavy as if his heart was sinking deeper with each one.
The bouquet slipped silently from his grasp. Petals scattered across the cold pavement like fallen dreams, swirling in the morning breeze until nothing was left but an empty wrapper drifting softly to the ground as he reached his car.
His fingers curled tightly around the car’s window, trembling with a restless ache. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the storm inside.
‘Does she really want nothing to do with me anymore?’
***
Inside a dimly lit room, the loud hum of music barely covered the pounding in Luca’s chest. He watched Anya, seated acrossfrom him, her delicate frame slumped as she took another sip from a nearly empty vodka glass—her fifth one tonight.
“You really don’t plan on forgiving Dante?” Luca asked.
“Never.” Anya’s lips pressed tightly together, her voice barely a murmur. “I don’t want to go through that pain again.” She glanced away, eyes glassy and distant. “I told him—if he walked out, that was the end. He made his choice.”
Luca nodded, sipping his scotch. The loud music drowned out his racing heartbeat as he looked at her. He loved her.
He’d loved her for years. When Anya was born, he was there. Even though back then he was too young to understand, he always held a special place for Anya in his heart.
And now, she sat right in front of him—broken, but not for him.
A sharp ache twisted inside him. Part of him wanted to burn it all down, to somehow make her to give up on Dante and have her for himself.
The other part just wanted to see her happy—even if that meant without him.
“Anya,” gently, he set down his glass and reached out, resting a tentative hand on the back of her head. Her eyes fluttered open, soft, a little glazed from the vodka.
“It’s clear Dante likes you,” he muttered, catching her attention. “He doesn’t treat anyone the way he treats you. You’re the only one he’s ever loved. And yeah, he hasn’t had other relationships, so his jealousy... it’s messy. He probably just doesn’t know how to handle it.”
She frowned, her soft expression quickly hardening into stubbornness as she snapped, “I don’t care! What’s gone is gone.I’m the kind of person who never goes back on her word. I won’t have anything to do with Dante Kingsley ever again!”
Luca exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. “Alright then. Dante will never come back into your life.”
“What? Why?” she cried, grabbing another glass of vodka and drinking it down before he could stop her.
“Hey. Enough. You’ve had enough,” he warned gently.
“I want him back,” she whispered, a little crack in her voice. “Why did you say no Dante ever again?”
He dropped his hand from her head, turning fully to face her. “Yousaid it, Anya.”
“I didn’t.” Her voice was barely audible, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.