LOGINAfter I fell while pregnant, my six-year-old son, Nico Bertelli, did not come to help me. When I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. At my hospital bedside, Nico hid behind my husband, Roberto Bertelli, and mumbled, "Mommy, I thought you fainted on purpose to get my attention. You've pretended to pass out a few times before just to stop me from going out with Ms. Pelosi." Roberto chimed in coldly, "You're always pulling tricks to get attention. Nico doesn't even trust you anymore. You need to take a hard look at yourself and figure out why he prefers being around Martina Pelosi over you." I was completely heartbroken. The day after I was discharged, I went home, packed up everything that belonged to me, and left behind only two documents: a divorce agreement and a letter terminating my parental rights.
View MoreIt is 11 AM; it is another seven hours to go.
Tyler is holding my hand so tight that it is becoming numb. He has dozed off and looks so peaceful as he is sleeping. I do not want to wake him up; he has not had a decent night's rest in what seems to be ages. He stays up every night, every day; he is awake almost every waking moment looking after me. He needs these few moments.
I am writing this letter as a token of my love to him, as a keepsake for him to treasure, and as a reminder of my commitment to us and our life together.
"To my dear husband,
I want you to know that I love you, ALL OF YOU, and I always will. I am committed to our marriage until death does us part. At times, in moments of deep frustration, I may have questioned otherwise, but that was my immature way of seeking love from you when I should have been looking for you to fill the void in my temporarily wandering heart.
Beloved, I know I have hurt you countless times with my words and actions, and for all of them, I sincerely and humbly ask for your forgiveness. Since my heart was made to fit with yours in our sacrament of marriage, I long for you even when my heart is broken, even when I feel so hurt by your actions or lack thereof that my heart feels frozen, I still long for you.
I have pondered this many times, and I have come to realize that it is what I truly desire, this longing. It keeps bringing me back to my knees in my faith to pray for us. Two become one, and when that oneness feels broken, I have two choices –
Run from the pain, or lean into the pain and allow myself to feel it, creating a longing in my heart to bring healing to the brokenness so our marriage can continue to be made holy the way it intends.
My beloved, I keep choosing number two because I truly love you! I see such goodness in you, and I also see the potential for greatness! I want more than anything to have a full life with you. I AM WILLING TO FIGHT FOR IT.
Sometimes I feel like our love for one another gets buried amidst the daily stresses of life, especially with the struggles that get thrown in our way. Trying to balance everything is so challenging! There is no one else I would rather balance life with, though, than you! We are a team, and you are the best partner I could ask for. I have been blessed with you!
When our love starts to get buried, please know I will fight to uncover it and breathe life back into it. We have been giving the gift of each other.
I know at times trust between us has been tested; good, heartfelt communication has been challenging; promises we made have been broken, and overall new baggage has been formed. We are human.
My beloved, I want you to know that with this letter, I today renew my commitment to loving you.
We both have faults that challenge each other, but our marriage grows.
Thank you for all of the sacrifices you have made and continue to make for us. Your daily sacrifices for me do not go unnoticed. Truly, our life together is beautiful. It is us, in good and in bad, in sickness and in health, in rich and in poor, beauty woven throughout it all, that makes this journey amazing!
As I write this, you are lying at my side in Hospital, holding my hand with rivers of tears running down my face, and I'm wondering how it came to be that we're here in this living hell?
Every now and then, you open your eyes and give me a weak smile, a squeeze of your hand, or sometimes you ask me for a kiss.
Each time I look at you, my heart breaks some more. Your eyes are etched with pain, you look so weak and exhausted, and I can see the light in you fading away, like a torch running out of battery.
You try to speak to me, but your words ramble incoherently. I can sense your fear, and I can feel you will slipping away, wishing it to be all over.
How did everything go so wrong so rapidly? What did we do to deserve all this? Why did nobody forewarn us that this might be the way things would turn out?
I'm trying so hard to be strong for you, my love, but your deterioration has been so fast that I'm in total shock, and I'm struggling to cope, struggling to accept what I know is coming, and I know that you can sense my fear and grief. Even though you are still here, it feels as though that I am in mourning already because such a big part of me has already gone.
I feel as though I've let you down like I should have seen this coming, been more prepared, looked after you better, pushed the doctors to try harder, asked more questions....so many things I should have done differently.
You always said that this sort of thing happening to you would be your worst nightmare, and now I'm trapped inside that nightmare with you, and I would give anything for somebody to come and wake us up.
I can't imagine the pain you must be in, nor the thoughts, emotions, and fears that you're struggling with inside. I wish I could make it better for you, but I'm completely helpless.
I felt empty before I met you. Empty, like a piece of me, was missing, and I was tirelessly searching for it. I knew I found it when I met you. I can't even put into words the wholeness that I feel every day knowing you are my husband. I feel connected to you.
I feel very misunderstood by many people, but worse, I feel most people don't want to understand me. But you, you always seek to understand me. You know my heart. You know that I always have the best of intentions. You understand me. You get me. In fact, I think you're the only person who truly does. But only because you are the only person who has taken the time. You always know what I need to hear. You know what worries me and what scares me. You know my secrets. You know exactly what I need at exactly the right time. Best of all, you never pass judgment. Thank you for taking the time to know and understand me. We are distinctly different. You make up for all that I lack.
We've been through a lot together. Through it all, you comfort me. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you for overcoming your strongholds. Even though that rocky, confusing time, you comforted me. Many men would have cut and ran. Some men would have given up. You may not have always known how, but I promise you, you did. Even if all you could do was throw your arms around me. If all you could do was cry with me, I promise, you comforted me. Thanks for never walking out on me when life got hard.
I'm choking up just writing this. This is huge, and you probably don't know that I'm aware of this, but I am. You cover my faults. You hide them. It would be easy to expose them. The world tells us it's okay "to vent." People are quick to share how someone has let them down or done them wrong.
But you, you don't even bring up my faults in conflict or arguments. You spare me. You extend mercy when I don't deserve it. While others might look at my faults with a magnifying glass, you cover me with grace. You give me permission to be human. You are slow to anger and quick to forgive me. You let me "win" even at the cost of your own pride. You are malleable when I am obstinate. You are long-suffering when I am insufferable. You save me from the embarrassment of my own shortcomings. I notice. I'm grateful. I'm humbled.
Protection, real protection is such an attractive quality in a man. I don't just mean physical protection. I mean the kind of protection that is hard. The kind of protection that shelters me from verbal attacks, criticism, anger, cruel intentions, and more. I saw you do that for me. I saw you risk everything to support me. That is love.
Tyler, I need to thank you. I need you to know how much I appreciate your sacrifices and tireless efforts. I want you to know it matters, and it doesn't go unnoticed. I love you. More than I could ever put into words. More than I could ever show you.
Now in this time that we need to have faith, that we need to believe, I am reminded of all of this. It makes me realize that even if I cannot find the faith in myself, I can find it inside of you."
Faith is about believing. You don't know how it will happen, but it will happen.
So we have come to the end of seven hours remaining, only another six ahead. And with these six, I will remind you…
Have patience; all things are difficult before they become easy.
Fight! This is only going to be a chapter in your life. Not a whole story.
Don't stop believing in yourself, no matter what happens.
Accept it. At some point, you are going to have to accept that this is not your fault. There is nothing that you can do about it.
Forgive yourself. There is nothing that you could have done differently.
Forget about it. Don't be a prisoner of things that you cannot change.
And at the end of the last hour, you will go into that theatre, and you will fight for it. You are not going anywhere.
YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME BEHIND.
Sunlight filtered through the palm leaves, and the chain at my neck had grown warm against my skin.Luca was across the garden talking with several prominent figures in the archaeology world, glancing over at me every once in a while with that soft smile.The engagement party was elegant and full of laughter. For a while, it almost felt like everything that had come before it was nothing more than a distant dream.Just then, the butler approached and presented an express letter that had arrived from Suietzland.The thick parchment carried no return name, yet the cold weight of it felt painfully familiar.I walked toward a quiet corner near the fountain and opened it. The handwriting on the first page looked carved into the paper, each alphabet pressed down with force.[Amelia, the Pelosi family's operations were fully absorbed into the Bertelli family holdings last week. Martina has been permanently exiled to the eastern continents. She will never appear before you again.[Your
Roberto began his clumsy, almost laughable attempt at 'winning me back'.At dawn, when I pulled open the flap of my tent, a bouquet of desert roses lay outside. I picked them up without expression and handed them to a passing local worker.I said, "Give them to your wife. She likes flowers."The next night, close to midnight, an off-key voice shattered the quiet.Roberto stood under the moonlight, holding a crumpled piece of paper and stumbling through what I could only assume was supposed to be a love song.I picked up my washbasin and poured it out the window.On the third day, he outdid himself by trying to bake a dessert from scratch. Years ago, I had casually mentioned liking it.However, I never tasted a single bite, because sparks from his makeshift oven caught the edge of a tent and burned a corner.While Luca's men rushed to put out the fire, Roberto stood in the smoke with flour and cocoa smeared across his face like a guilty schoolboy.I should have felt amused, but
Although the desert nights were bitterly cold, I liked working late in the temporary lab.There was nothing but the soft scraping of the restoration blade against wood and the sound of my own steady breathing.Until that night, everything changed.Gunshots tore through the silence just as I was using a cotton swab to clean the last patch of residue from the edge of the coffin.Luca lowered his voice, and the light in his eyes was colder than I had ever seen. "This isn't a robbery. They're here for you."Before long, we made it to the reinforced artifact storage room as chaos erupted outside.He pressed his back against the iron door and pulled a compact handgun from the holster at his waist.I stared at him, stunned. I mumbled, "Luca...""The Galante family doesn't just run about museums," he replied, checking the magazine quickly."My father always said you protect what's precious to you with everything you have."He paused, glancing at me in the gap between another round of
I never boarded the plane. At the last moment before the security checkpoint, my supervisor, Ian Alfonsi, called.He informed me that the Mojave Project was put on hold and replaced by a new excavation site: a recently discovered tomb near Luksor, Aigypt, uncovered by an international archaeological team.I held my phone and looked toward the departure gate. I could not help but feel like it was a sign to completely cut ties with my past.I used my new work visa to book a flight to Keiro under the name 'Bianca Rodriguez'. In the airport bathroom, I flushed my old SIM card down the toilet, dropped my phone in the trash, and walked away without looking back.I moved so decisively that I surprised even myself.The archaeological camp south of Keiro felt like an isolated island in a sea of sand, and my assignment was to restore a painted wooden coffin.Nobody there knew who I was. I was just 'Bianca', a quiet yet capable conservator.Luca Galante was the heart of the team. The first


















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