She Was Never His

When I woke up, Dario was standing frozen in the doorway, hesitating like he couldn't bring himself to come closer.

I propped myself up on pale, trembling arms and gave him a small smile.

"Dario. Long time no see."

His whole body swayed, eyes instantly red-rimmed. He crossed the room in two strides and took my hand, his fingers shaking uncontrollably.

"Camila... the nurse said you were awake. I still couldn't believe it. It's really you... you're actually..."

I looked up at that familiar face.

The nurse on duty had told me I'd been out for five whole years.

Five years hadn't done much to Dario. He'd just changed his hair. Those intense eyes of his were tucked behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses now. And the gray hoodies I remembered were gone, swapped out for stiff, formal suits.

He looked polished, like the male lead in some drama.

To me, though? Just a little bit of a stranger.

Sofia trailed in behind him. The second she saw me, her eyes went wet and she dropped to her knees with a thud.

"Camila, it was all my fault. I didn't mean to push you—my heels tripped me up. I've been praying and repenting every single day—"

Before she could finish, Dario was already pulling her up, his face full of concern.

"The floor's cold. Camila's not going to hold it against you."

Sofia gave his hand a light squeeze back, so natural it looked like she'd done it a thousand times.

He glanced at me. "Camila's always been kind-hearted. She won't hold a grudge. Sofia, just don't be stupid like that again."

Sofia looked up at him through tear-soaked lashes. Dario turned away, a little uncomfortable.

I opened my mouth. The words sat right there on my tongue. Then I swallowed them.

Dario never asked me if I'd chosen to forgive.

He poured me a glass of warm water, then shot a look at Sofia.

"Go handle Camila's discharge paperwork. And move it."

She turned to leave, but he frowned and called her back. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over her head. "Look at the weather. A skirt that short? Sofia, what the hell were you thinking?"

When the room finally fell quiet again, just the two of us, Dario sat there in silence.

I turned to the window. Where I remembered open land, high-rises had shot up, and I had no idea when.

The man I used to tell everything to had handed all his warmth, his irritation, his tenderness to someone else. With me? Just endless silence.

After the discharge, I followed behind Dario. He was grumbling under his breath about Sofia's flaws, how careless she was, how much trouble she caused, but his voice carried something softer underneath.

"Sofia's such a mess. Last time she couldn't reach me, she cried herself into a panic. Not like you, you're so independent. Look at her. Isn't she ridiculous?"

I didn't respond.

Until I watched him walk up to a car I'd never seen before.

Sofia was already in the driver's seat. Dario opened the passenger door and slid in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at this new car. Couldn't even find the door handle. Just stood there like an idiot.

Dario noticed I wasn't moving and finally snapped out of it, like waking from a dream. He got out and opened the door for me.

"Camila, this car—I got it for you. It's electric, not like the gas ones. I'll show you how to drive it later."

I looked at the interior. Pink. Everywhere. Even the air freshener was jasmine, my so-called "favorite."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

I'd told Dario a hundred times. I wanted a black business sedan.

Pink was Sofia's thing.

Not a word the whole drive. Sofia pulled up to the estate gate. I got out. Dario rolled down the window, a guilty look on his face.

"Camila, I've got business to handle in Cabo. Sofia's coming with me. You get some rest. I'll be back once I'm done."

And then they drove off.

This place, we'd bought it together before the wedding. He used to say he'd plant roses all along the path, the ones I loved. That he'd walk it with me for the rest of our lives.

Now there was nothing.

I unlocked the door. Everything inside looked exactly like it had five years ago, except the shoe rack was caked in dust. No one had lived here in a long time.

The wedding photo that used to hang in the living room was cracked clean in two. Tossed in the storage room.

I sat there for a long time, staring at nothing. Then I pulled out my phone and sent the message I'd already typed out.

[Ayana. I need divorce papers.]

I waited all night. Dario never showed.

The next morning, I dialed the number I knew by heart.

"Dario. Where are you?"

His voice was groggy on the other end, like I'd pulled him out of sleep.

"What? I'm at home."

My chest went cold. I kept my voice flat.

"Which home?"