CHAPTER 11.

"I don't know what to do, friend. I saw it in his eyes; I don't know how to do anything without him. I feel so hurt, mocked, ignored, despised, rejected. I'm so insignificant, Paula! I gave everything!" she exclaimed with a vehement voice. "I have nothing left to give. I even decided to live a simple life, to have a normal family, a self-sacrificing woman, waiting for her husband to come home to warm his food and even put on his slippers."

"Often suppressing my feelings, just to please him. Tell me, Paula, what did I do wrong? Why am I going through all this? I don't deserve his mockery," she blurted out, her face still bathed in freely flowing tears.

"Do you really want to know the reasons?" Galata nodded affirmatively. "I don't know if I'll be harsh with you, but true friends tell each other the truth, and though I also feel pain saying them, I feel obligated to do so."

"You chose to give up yourself. You decided to put him first. Matteo didn't force you or ask you; he simply accepted what you gave him. You were the one who decided to give him everything, because you believed that by doing so, you would make him forget Helena. Friend, he didn't deceive you. You entered that relationship knowing who you were fighting against. You confronted everyone, and anyone who had a different opinion, you declared your enemy. And with this, I'm not defending Matteo, because you are my friend, not him. However, when you're on the outside, you can see what happened on the inside with greater objectivity."

"Do you know the most serious thing of all? You put him above yourself, to the point of stopping loving yourself to love him, and that, my friend... was your worst mistake. You stopped living, you shut yourself in this kind of mausoleum, and you became a living dead, a zombie, and you don't deserve that," she declared passionately.

"And what do you advise me?! What do I do?! I can't find a way to put my life in order. I'm terrified of leaving this mausoleum and facing the world! I'm not ready!" she cried desperately, running her hands through her hair in a gesture of frustration.

"Yes, you are! You were always a warrior, one of those people who fought vehemently not only for her rights but also for others. You wanted to be the greatest jewelry designer in the world, to be recognized—those were your dreams. You put them aside, but that woman is still there," she said, touching her friend's heart. "Waiting for you to free her and let her live again."

"I'm not advising you to end your marriage. You two need to talk and make things clear, and after that, it's your problem what decision to make. But I do advise you, live, my friend! Do those things you put aside, find yourself, and tell that other 'you' whom you left abandoned and dusty, that you do love her, and it's time to show her how much."

As she finished speaking, both were crying. Galata for a moment sobbed in silence, while ideas swirled in her mind.

"I have a child and I'm pregnant. How could I live what I stopped living? I can't anymore," she said in a low voice, not hiding her tone of sadness.

"Of course you can! Your children should be your impulse. I don't have any, though I've heard Mommy Martina say it. Besides, those children have their dad; while you go out and live life, he can take care of them. Children are a two-person job. And to start, get little Xavier Philipo ready, and let's go have breakfast. Then we'll go to the hair salon, shopping, and tonight we can go to a club for a bit. We'll ask Mommy Martina to stay with him."

"If she knows, she'll tell my mom, and I don't want to worry her about it," she questioned her friend's plan. "Besides, if Matteo comes and doesn't find me, he'll surely..." She didn't continue speaking because Paula interrupted her.

"If Matteo comes, to hell with him! Didn't you just tell me he spent the night out with his ex? Well, now it's your turn tonight. Let's go, and I'm not taking no for an answer!" she exclaimed as she accompanied Galata to get Xavier ready, and Galata followed her with resignation.

Matteo woke up feeling the sun on his face as its rays streamed through the window. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure where he was. He started when he felt the woman's arms intertwined with his, around his waist.

He frowned and roughly pushed her away, making her wake up, while simultaneously emitting an expression of helplessness.

"Damn it! Curse it! I have to go; my intention was to go home to my wife and son," he expressed, getting up roughly.

Helena noticed his clothes and how she had woken up lying next to Matteo, and her fair skin reddened.

"I'm sorry, Matteo! I don't want to cause you trouble," the woman pronounced with concern. "I don't know why you're here."

"The hotel called me; you were in crisis, and I was your only emergency contact. However, I must ask you something: Who was the man who attacked you to put you in that state?"

Helena's face immediately paled, because ever since she woke up, she had tried to keep those memories out of her mind, as they caused her great distress. Before she could utter a word, the man's threats resurfaced in her mind, and she chose to remain silent.

"Matteo, please, I don't want to talk about it. I truly regret all of this. Go back to Galata. I'll let them know here not to bother you again."

"I don't want to destroy your life, much less hinder your marriage. Let's leave what happened in the past. I will never forget you because I love you, but I've understood that in this life, we cannot be together, perhaps in another. Thank you for coming to help me. Take care, Matteo. Be happy!"

She accompanied him to the exit, and as she closed the door behind him, she couldn't help but slide to the floor and cry, hugging herself. She felt sad, miserable, unable to understand why life always seemed to pick on her, denying her happiness. She couldn't prevent her body from trembling from the spasms caused by her crying, and her anguish grew because she wouldn't see her great love again.

Meanwhile, Matteo rushed out to go home and meet his family, thinking of a way to explain his absence to Galata. However, as he left, he couldn't help but look toward the door of the room where he was leaving Helena, feeling an emptiness and a great oppression in his chest as he left her behind, without understanding the reason for the confusion of his feelings. They should already be clear to him, yet they weren't, and that made him feel bad about himself.