Chapter 4

Luca did not return to the apartment after the party.

I sat beside the floor-to-ceiling windows until dawn, watching the Manhattan lights fade. My chest still ached, but my thoughts had become strangely calm.

During every previous break, I had waited for him.

This time, I began removing him from my life.

The following morning, I reopened an offer from the Milan Institute of Design. It had arrived three weeks earlier: a place in its one-year jewelry research program with a full scholarship.

I had hesitated because the studio Luca and I planned to open had reached the final round of Westbridge’s graduate start-up program. We had rented a workspace, planned to renew our apartment lease, and convinced investors that we were building a future together in New York.

I had arranged my entire future around Luca.

That morning, I began taking it back.

I clicked Accept.

Then I emailed our project adviser and withdrew from the start-up proposal.

She called within minutes.

“Elena, you created the entire jewelry collection. Without it, Luca’s proposal may not pass the final review.”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“It’s personal. Please return the copyrights to my designs. Luca can keep his industrial prototypes.”

After a long silence, she agreed.

Within forty-eight hours, I withdrew from the project, closed my share of the studio account, and divided the equipment according to our original contributions.

Luca could keep what belonged to him, but he would no longer build his future on my work.

On the fifth day, he finally called.

A sports car roared in the background, followed by Sienna’s laughter.

“Elena, where did you put my racing helmet? The one you redesigned?”

I was packing nine years of photographs into a box with the rest of his belongings.

“Top shelf of the studio cabinet.”

A moment later, I heard a door open.

“Found it. See you when the month is over.”

Sienna said something, and Luca laughed before ending the call.

On the tenth day, he sent a teammate to collect the suits he needed for his graduation presentation.

The student stopped inside the nearly empty living room.

“Are you two moving?”

“Only I am.”

He took the garment bags and left.

On the twentieth day, my birthday, Luca sent roses.

The card contained two sentences.

Happy birthday. Don’t overthink things. I’ll be home soon.

He remembered my birthday, but he did not know I had withdrawn from our project or that the investors had suspended their review after losing the lead designer.

Apparently, he had not opened a single email from Westbridge.

That afternoon, I notified the landlord that I would not renew my share of the apartment lease and sent the furniture I had purchased to a consignment company.

The last item they removed was the piano Luca and I used to play together.

I watched it disappear into the elevator. I was not destroying our memories. I was removing myself from the future they represented.

On the thirtieth day, I unlocked the guest room.

Two months earlier, after learning I was pregnant, I had secretly turned it into a nursery. The walls were painted cream and gold. A crib stood beside the window, unopened baby clothes filled the wardrobe, and silver stars hung above the ceiling mobile.

I had planned to show Luca the room after he proposed.

Now the necklace I had created for our wedding rested around Sienna’s neck, and the nursery no longer belonged to any future I wanted.

I hired workers to remove everything. They dismantled the crib, packed the clothes for donation, and repainted the walls.

As they carried the final box toward the elevator, the apartment door opened.

Luca had returned.

His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and Sienna’s perfume still clung to him.

He glanced past the workers without concern, then smiled and opened his arms.

“Elena, the break is over. I’m back.”

When I did not move, he seemed to assume I was sulking.

“Thank you for waiting. Did you miss me that much?”

“No.”

His smile faltered.

Only then did he notice the empty apartment.

“Where is everything?”

His gaze settled on the guest room.

“You finally unlocked it?”

He walked over and pushed open the door.

“You always said there was a secret in here.” He glanced back at me with a teasing smile. “What was it? A room filled with portraits of me?”

A pale rectangle marked the place where the crib had stood. One silver star remained near the baseboard, overlooked by the workers.

Luca’s smile slowly disappeared.

“Why is it empty?”

Because you came back too late.

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

Sienna’s frightened voice burst through the speaker. Engines, police sirens, and angry shouting filled the background.

“Luca, help me! The police shut down the underground track in Red Hook. My car broke down inside the service yard, and the organizers chained the exit. Everyone’s fighting, and I’m trapped here alone.”

Luca grabbed his coat and headed for the door without asking another question about the empty room.

“The police are already there,” I said. “She can call a tow truck or anyone on the racing team.”

“She called me.”

That was all that mattered. Sienna had chosen him, and he liked being needed.

“This isn’t the time to argue about rules. Give me one more night. July has thirty-one days, so it won’t matter.”

For four years, Luca had treated every lost hour of his thirty-day freedom as something stolen from him.

Now, for Sienna, he wanted the thirty-first day too.

“Elena, wait until I get back. It’s just one more night.”

He said it as though waiting were the only thing I knew how to do.

The elevator doors closed behind him.

My suitcase was already waiting beside the kitchen counter. I placed my apartment key next to the box containing Luca’s belongings and picked it up.

The car to the airport was waiting downstairs.

Luca had asked me to wait one more night.

By the time he returned, I would be on a flight to Milan.