Chapter 3

When Mom came into the bedroom, I had already pushed myself upright against the headboard.

She still looked upset, and I knew she did not want me going anywhere with Santino. I reached out and wrapped my arms around her.

“Mom, just help me with one last wish, okay?”

Her eyes reddened almost immediately.

In the end, she did not try to stop me again. She helped me put on my wig, added a little lipstick to my pale face, and wrapped me in a heavy coat before wheeling me into the living room.

The moment Santino saw me in the wheelchair, his brows drew together.

“What happened to your leg?”

“I fell. The fracture is worse than I expected. The doctor told me not to walk for a while.”

He looked at me for another two seconds. His gaze moved over my face, then dropped to the blanket over my knees, but he said nothing else.

Sofia slipped her arm through his and smiled.

“Elena, don’t mind him. Santino has been like this for years. He doesn’t have much patience for anyone except me.”

Something tightened quietly in my chest.

People used to say Santino had a temper even when we were young. He had never been patient with strangers, and he had never cared much about being liked, but he had always been different with me.

I pushed the feeling aside and looked at Sofia.

“You really want me to help with the wedding?”

“Of course.”

She nodded.

“We still need to finalize the church, the rings, and the reception hotel. You’ve lived in New York this whole time, so you know the city better than we do.”

“Okay.”

If they really wanted my help, I would go.

That evening, Santino called me.

“I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

It had been seven years since I had heard his voice this way, with no one else between us and no crowded room forcing us to pretend we were strangers.

When we were together, he used to call me almost every night. Sometimes neither of us said much. I would lie in bed listening to him breathe or turn pages on the other end of the line, and somehow that had always been enough to help me fall asleep.

Hearing him again now still made me nervous.

Then Sofia’s voice came through the phone.

“Santino, have you seen my earrings?”

“They’re on the dresser.”

His answer was easy and familiar, the kind that came from knowing someone’s habits without having to think.

I went still for a moment before saying quietly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

The call ended.

I stared at the dark screen in my hand.

I had known for days that he was getting married. I had seen Sofia beside him and heard them talk about their wedding, but only then did I fully understand that they already had a life that belonged to the two of them. They shared a room, ordinary mornings, misplaced earrings, and all the small things that once seemed too unimportant to lose.

The next morning, I asked Mom to wheel me downstairs at nine thirty.

Santino had said ten.

By ten thirty, there was still no sign of him. Eleven passed, and then noon.

I called once, but he did not answer.

Mom tried several times to take me back upstairs, but I refused.

“Let’s go home, Elena. He can come up when he gets here.”

“I’m fine. I can wait.”

She knew I was lying.

Just leaving the apartment had already taken more strength than I wanted her to see. My back had begun to ache, and the cold was slowly sinking through my coat, but I stayed where I was because I did not know if I would be able to come downstairs again after today.

It was almost one when Santino finally called.

“We’re here.”

A black SUV pulled up outside a few minutes later.

Santino got out, folded my wheelchair into the back, and opened the rear door for me. Sofia was already sitting inside.

“Elena, I’m sorry we kept you waiting.”

She smiled at me.

“We were up too late last night and overslept this morning.”

My fingers tightened slightly against my coat.

Santino slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I just didn’t want her to think we forgot about her.”

I said nothing. I only lifted a hand to Mom through the window as the car pulled away.

A few minutes into the drive, I began to feel sick.

Seven years ago, when Santino first got his license, he used to drive me everywhere.

He knew I got carsick easily, so he always drove carefully. He slowed down before turns, avoided sudden stops, and never complained when a trip took longer because of me.

I could barely survive a taxi ride without feeling nauseous, but I had never once gotten sick in his car.

Now he clearly no longer remembered those old habits.

A car changed lanes in front of us.

Santino hit the brakes, and my body jerked forward before the seat belt caught me. My stomach turned hard enough that I sucked in a breath.

His eyes lifted to the rearview mirror.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a little carsick.”

His brows tightened, and a second later, the car slowed.

After a while, he said, “You never used to get sick in my car.”

I looked at the back of his seat.

“That’s because you used to drive slower for me.”

Silence filled the car.

Santino kept both hands on the wheel.

“That was then.”

I nodded.

“I know. Sofia is the one you should be taking care of now.”

He did not answer. Sofia turned her attention to the window, and the car fell quiet, but for the rest of the drive, Santino never sped up again.

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

At least he still remembered that I never used to get sick in his car. Maybe I had not disappeared from his world completely.