kabanata 2

CHEZKA POV

The encounter at the charity event left a lingering feeling in the air, though most people present probably did not notice anything out of the ordinary. But for me, it was the first small step in a long journey I had prepared for. I returned home that night not with excitement, but with a clear focus—like a chess player who has just made his first move and is now carefully watching the opponent’s response.

In the days that followed, I made it my priority to observe. I did not rush to act, nor did I try to force my way into Luciano’s life. I knew that haste would only bring suspicion and make me look like the villain Elise would surely try to paint me as. Instead, I chose to watch, to study their dynamics, and to learn exactly what kind of man Luciano Verrano was—and more importantly, what kind of woman Elise truly was when she thought no one was looking.

It did not take long for the cracks to show.

Elise was overjoyed when she came home that night, her head held high, talking nonstop about how wonderful the event had been and how proud she was to be seen on Luciano’s arm. But when she spoke of me, her tone shifted from pride to irritation.

“Chezka,” she called out as soon as we were alone in the hallway, her smile vanishing instantly. “Stay away from Luciano. Do not try to talk to him again, do not look for him, and do not insert yourself into our lives. He is mine, and you have no right to get close to him.”

I leaned against the wall, looking at her calmly, no trace of anger or defiance on my face. “I did not go looking for him, Elise. We happened to be in the same place. He spoke to me first, and I merely replied. Is it a crime to be polite?”

“You know exactly what you are doing,” she hissed, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing. “You have always wanted what I have. Just because you came back looking different does not mean you can take what is mine. Remember your place, little sister. You have nothing, and he would never look at someone like you when he already has me.”

I simply smiled softly. “If he is truly yours, then you have nothing to fear, right? True ownership does not require threats or warnings. If he belongs to you, no one can take him away. But if he is only something you borrowed… then perhaps it is time to return it.”

Her face turned red with anger, but before she could say anything else, she heard footsteps coming from the living room. In a split second, her expression changed again—her shoulders relaxed, her lips curved into a sweet smile, and the sharpness in her eyes was replaced by innocence. It was a performance she had mastered over the years, and seeing it now only confirmed what I already knew: everything about her was an act.

Over the next two weeks, I saw this act repeated many times. Whenever Elise was with Luciano, she was the perfect picture of a loving and gentle partner. She would listen intently when he spoke, laugh softly at his jokes, and speak only of happy, light things. She would tell him how much she admired his work, how kind he was, and how lucky she felt to be by his side. Luciano, being a man of integrity and trust, naturally believed what he saw. He treated her with respect, showered her with gifts, and seemed genuinely happy to have found someone he thought understood him.

But when they were away from each other, or when Elise thought Luciano was not paying attention, her true nature came out.

I once heard her on the phone with a friend, complaining loudly about how “boring” some of Luciano’s business events were. “He makes me sit through hours of talking about money and contracts,” she whined. “It’s so dull. But I have to endure it because being with him means I can buy anything I want, go anywhere I please, and everyone looks up to me. That is the only thing that matters.”

Another time, I saw them together at a café in the city. They were sitting by the window, and I was at a table nearby, hidden behind a newspaper. At first, everything seemed fine. Then Elise began to ask for a new designer bag she had seen in the mall, saying it was necessary for her to have something more expensive to match the jewelry he had given her. When Luciano gently suggested that perhaps she did not need to buy it immediately, and that they could save up for something more meaningful, her face fell instantly.

“I am your girlfriend, Luciano,” she said, her voice rising slightly, losing its usual softness. “Everyone expects me to dress well and carry good things. If you cannot give me these small things, then what is the point of being with you? You are rich, yet you act so cheap sometimes.”

Luciano looked taken aback, and a shadow of disappointment crossed his face. He tried to explain that it was not about the money, but about the value of things, but Elise only pouted and turned her head away, refusing to speak to him until he promised to buy what she wanted. When he finally agreed, her mood shifted back to cheerful as if nothing had happened, and she kissed his cheek sweetly.

As I watched from a distance, I realized something important: Luciano was not a man who wanted to be used. He was generous, but he also valued sincerity and respect. He was looking for a partner, not someone who only saw him as a source of wealth and status. Elise was giving him the appearance of love, but she was feeding his life with demands and expectations. That was the gap I intended to fill.

I did not have to create lies or force myself into their relationship. All I needed to do was be exactly who I had become—someone who listened, who understood, and who did not ask for anything.

The next opportunity to meet Luciano came sooner than I expected. A week later, the city’s Art and Culture Council held an exhibition to raise funds for local schools. It was an event that attracted business leaders, artists, and prominent families—and I knew for certain that Luciano would be there, as he was a known supporter of education and the arts.

I prepared myself carefully. I chose a simple, elegant dress in soft blue, a color that brought out the calmness in my features. I wore only a pair of pearl earrings and a thin silver necklace—nothing flashy, nothing that screamed for attention. I wanted to look like someone who belonged there not because of what she owned, but because of who she was.

When I arrived, the hall was already filled with people. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls, soft classical music played in the background, and the atmosphere was quiet and refined. I walked slowly, looking at the artworks, letting myself blend into the crowd, until I spotted him.

Luciano was standing in front of a large landscape painting, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at it with deep interest. Elise was not with him; she had gone to greet some of her friends from high society, leaving him alone for a while.

This was the perfect moment.

I walked toward him, stopping a few feet away, pretending to look at the same painting. After a few moments, I spoke in a soft, respectful tone.

“It is a beautiful piece, isn’t it? The way the artist used light and shadow makes it feel as if you are actually standing there, looking out over the valley.”

Luciano turned his head, and when he saw me, his eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise. A genuine smile appeared on his face.

“Miss Chezka,” he said, nodding politely. “I did not expect to see you here. It is a wonderful surprise.”

“Good evening, Mr. Verrano,” I replied, smiling back. “I heard about this exhibition and decided to come. I have always loved art—it tells stories without using words.”

“Please, call me Luciano,” he said gently. “And you are right. Most people come here just to be seen, to say they attended, but few actually stop to understand what the artist is trying to say. It is refreshing to meet someone who sees more than just the frame.”

We began to talk, moving slowly from one artwork to another. Unlike Elise, who would only comment on whether something looked expensive or fashionable, I spoke about the history behind the pieces, the techniques used, and the emotions they conveyed. I shared what I had learned during my studies abroad, and I listened carefully when Luciano spoke, asking thoughtful questions rather than just nodding along.

I noticed that as we talked, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He spoke more freely, sharing his own views on art, business, and even his thoughts on the importance of education. He told me that sometimes, in the world he lived in, it was hard to find people who spoke about things that mattered, rather than just money, parties, or social standing.

“You speak with such clarity and calmness,” he said, looking at me with genuine curiosity. “Elise mentioned you were studying abroad, but she never said you were interested in these things. It seems you have a lot of knowledge and experience.”

“I just believe that learning never stops,” I answered humbly. “I spent a year away not just to get a degree, but to see the world and understand how different people live and think. It helps to have a broader view of life.”

He nodded, his expression growing more interested. “That is a rare quality. Many people your age are only concerned with what they can get right now, not what they can learn or build for the future. You are different.”

I kept our conversation light and honest, never mentioning Elise, never making any negative comments, and never trying to praise myself. I simply showed him the side of me that had been hidden for years—the intelligent, thoughtful, and independent woman I had become.

After about half an hour, I saw Elise looking for him across the room. When her eyes landed on us, her smile froze, and her steps quickened. I knew it was time to step back, to leave a good impression without crossing the line.

“I think I have taken enough of your time, Luciano,” I said softly, stepping back slightly. “I do not want to keep you from your companion. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Please, do not go,” he said, almost before he realized it. Then he corrected himself, though his voice still held warmth. “I mean… it is a pleasure to talk to you. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

Before I could reply, Elise arrived, her hand immediately slipping through Luciano’s arm, her grip tight.

“Luciano, there you are,” she said, her voice sweet but strained. “I have been looking everywhere for you. And Chezka… it seems you are everywhere we go lately.”

“I was just admiring the paintings,” I said calmly, giving her a neutral smile. “And Luciano was kind enough to share his thoughts. I will leave you two now. Good evening.”

I walked away, feeling both her angry gaze burning into my back and Luciano’s curious eyes following me as I left.

That night, as I lay in bed, I replayed the conversation in my mind. I had done exactly what I set out to do. I had not stolen anything, nor had I lied. I had simply shown him a version of life and conversation that was different from what Elise offered. I had left him curious, interested, and perhaps even a little confused—wondering why he felt more at ease talking to me than he did with the woman he claimed to love.

Elise could put on a sweet face, she could buy expensive clothes, and she could demand affection, but she could never give him what he truly needed: respect, understanding, and sincerity. And that was where I would stay—patiently, calmly, letting the truth reveal itself little by little.

The game was still in its early stages, but already, the first crack in their perfect image had appeared. And I knew that in time, one small crack could turn into a great divide.

 

TO BE CONTINUE