003: Fire Beneath silence

Liana’s POV

Ten minutes passed. I checked my phone, paced a little. Tried not to feel like a fool.

Then I saw him

Black joggers. Dark tee. Broad shoulders moving with quiet control. He crossed the street like the world belonged to him. His eyes barely skimmed the area before landing on the gym entrance.

I straightened. I had been here since before six, I was too excited to get to the gym. I stood here pretending I wasn’t waiting for anyone.

He didn’t glance my way. Not at first. Just kept walking.

I stepped closer, heart tapping hard against my ribs. “Hey,” I said, softer than I meant to.

His gaze shifted. Slightly surprised. But he said nothing. Just swiped his card and held the door open.

I hesitated for a beat, then stepped inside. “Thanks,” I murmured.

He didn’t respond. Just walked in behind me.

I headed toward the dumbbells at first, hoping movement would calm the buzz in my head. It didn’t.

Then I saw him again, not far. He looked lighter today. Less tense. There was a rhythm in the way he moved. Not exactly friendly, but not closed off either.

I shifted to the treadmill, trying to act like it was routine.

He stayed back for a while. I caught glimpses of him in the mirror, adjusting gloves, stretching his neck, running a hand through his dark hair.

And then, he stepped onto the treadmill beside me.

The silence didn’t feel awkward today. There was a rhythm to it, like we were pacing each other without meaning to. His stride adjusted slightly to match mine. His glances were quick, almost casual—but they made me warm in ways I wasn’t ready for.

I wasn’t used to being seen. Not like this.

By twenty minutes, my chest was tight, not just from exertion. I slowed. He did too, almost in sync.

“I’m surprised you came back,” he said, finally.

His voice, low, calm, edged in something unreadable, slide down my spine.

“I wasn’t sure you’d let me in again,” I said.

He shrugged. “Figured you needed it.”

“I did.”

He gave a slight nod. “Having trouble renewing your card?”

I smiled faintly. “Maybe I just like sneaking in.”

That earned a glance. Something flickered behind his eyes, amusement, maybe. Or interest.

“I’m fine, though,” I added quickly. “I won’t bother you again.”

He gave me a small, crooked smile.

It stopped me cold.

Not a full grin. Just the barest curve of his mouth. But it was real. And warm. And dangerous in a way no glare could be.

“You’re not the worst company,” he murmured.

I laughed—soft, surprised. “High praise.”

He pulled out his phone, tapped something quickly, then nodded toward the exit. “I’m heading out.”

I nodded too fast. “Okay.”

He took a step, then paused and half-turned.

“See you tomorrow?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really.

But my heart still skipped.

“Yeah,” I said. “See you.”

When I got home, I stayed too long under the hot shower, letting the heat soak into my skin. I still couldn’t shake that flicker in his eyes. Or the way I felt when he smiled. Like I existed again.

I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the bedroom, eyes landing on the oversized wedding portrait mounted above my dresser.

A perfect lie in a perfect frame.

We’ve been married three years.

Not by choice.

As the only daughter of the late Don Moretti, my safety came with a price, one that was paid in blood and contracts. Matteo, son of the current Don and my father’s old ally, became that price.

Our wedding was a business move. A few months before the wedding he always came around and made me believe he was into me, and I was stupid to had trusted him.

And just a year after the wedding he just woke up one morning as a total stranger. And we had never gone back to how we started.

Since our last fight two weeks ago, he’s blocked all my accounts. Again. It wasn’t new, but this time he was taking longer than usual.

I was hoping today he’d finally release my debit card so I could renew my gym membership. I hadn’t asked. Pride, maybe. Or fear.

The door lock finally clicked at 11:48 p.m.

I straightened. Fixed my hair. Touched up my lipstick. Then stood by the kitchen counter like I just happened to be awake.

He walked in without looking at me.

“Dinner’s on the table,” I said softly.

“I’m not hungry.”

I followed him down the hallway. “I made your favorite.”

“I didn’t ask for it, did I?”

“I thought we could talk…”

He paused halfway to the bedroom. His eyes flicked to mine, cold and sharp. “Talk about what? How you disrespect me in my own house?”

I swallowed. “You froze my account. I couldn’t buy food.”

“You didn’t need to. Maria cooks.”

“But…. can we talk, please?”

He didn’t look at me. “Talk? Or whine?”

“I just want my access back. It’s been two weeks, Matteo.”

He gave a low, humorless laugh. “You still think money grows on your name?”

“I just want to renew my gym card. That’s all.”

“So now you work out to impress someone else?”

I froze. “What?”

“You think I don’t know? You think I don’t hear the way people talk about my wife, shaking her ass on a treadmill for anyone watching?”

I blinked hard. “That’s not..”

He turned fully to face me. “Don’t play the saint, Liana. You’ve always wanted attention. That’s what you married me for, isn’t it? The name. The money. The status.”

“No,” I whispered. “I married you because I had no choice.”

His jaw clenched. “You ungrateful little…”

“Don’t!” My voice cracked. “Don’t call me that.”

He stared at me. Then, like always, his rage shriveled into contempt.

“Tell your dead father thanks for ruining two lives,” he said quietly. “I’m leaving.”

“Matteo…”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Matteo, please…”

But the door shut in my face before I could finish.

I stood there for several long minutes, fingers curling into my palm. I’d done it again, apologized for his behavior. Cooked for peace. Smiled through war.

All I’d wanted was to ask for my gym renewal. Something small. Something for me.

Instead, I was the villain. Again.