CHAPTER 5.

When Matteo felt Helena's lips on his, a slight gasp of surprise escaped his mouth. She took advantage of this to access his oral cavity. The man felt his heart pound harder, and a cold current ran through him from head to toe. The sensations were intense; for a few seconds, he let her kiss him and even returned her kiss.

Helena was inflamed, excited. She felt thrilled to be with the love of her life. She began to trace the muscles of his chest, trying to unbutton his shirt to caress his skin directly. In fact, she managed to undo several buttons, and desire surged within her with the powerful force of a volcano. She yearned to feel his again; she didn't care if he was a married man—in her heart, he was hers.

Their breaths quickened. Matteo felt the warmth of the woman's hands tracing his body. Emotions, restrained for so long, threatened to overflow, especially as she moved closer, rubbing against his penis like an animal in heat, making his erection grow further and his heartbeat frantically.

However, at that moment, in the haze of Matteo's excitement, a bit of sanity emerged. Galata's gray eyes appeared, looking at him with sadness and accusation, and that was like a bucket of cold water, scaring away every trace of desire in him.

"I can't do this to Galata, she's my wife, and I..." he told himself internally, but it wasn't time to keep thinking about her, but to stop this madness. He took Helena by the wrists to pull her hands away from his body.

"Stop, Helena!" he exclaimed with a glacial voice, which surprised the woman, who at that moment looked at him with disbelief and a questioning expression in her eyes.

"Why, Matteo? I still desire you like the first time, and a moment ago I just confirmed that you desire me too. We still love each other, please, let's just give in," the woman pleaded, moving her hands to his crotch and caressing him over the fabric of his pants, trying to persuade him.

"I told you no, Helena!" he snapped with a trace of anger, struggling to control himself. "Desire is a physiological need; it means nothing more. I told you; I'm not interested in returning to the past. I regret the sea of confusion that arose between us, I regret my impulsiveness at that moment for not listening to your reasons and making hasty decisions. However, there's no turning back now."

"Helena, you can't just suddenly appear, no matter the circumstances, and expect me to have been paused for seven years, just waiting for an explanation from you, and expect me to throw my life away now." The man's words saddened her, and tears began to escape.

"I don't expect that, nor was I to blame for what happened," she said in a soft murmur.

"Neither was I, Helena," he said, wiping away her tears. "And I'm not a single man. Seven years ago, I got married. I have a three-year-old son, and currently my wife is pregnant, and she is a good woman. I couldn't have found anyone more wonderful, and she doesn't deserve to be mocked by me, much less deceived because I intend to start an affair with you at this point."

When Helena heard Matteo's words, she recoiled as if she had been dealt a heavy blow. She felt the absence of air and steadied herself against a small table.

"Seven years!" she exclaimed, double-struck: first, to know he was married; second, that he had done so almost immediately after breaking up with her. "You married her right after we ended our relationship?" she questioned, though she already knew the answer.

"I started dating her a few days after ending my relationship with you. I became her boyfriend two weeks later, and at the same time, I proposed to her, and we got married fourteen days after that," he replied with apparent indifference.

"Were you dating her while you were still with me?" she asked, feeling hurt and betrayed by this discovery.

"No, you know me; I'm not the type of man to start one relationship without ending another. When I left you, she was my refuge, and I decided to marry her. Besides, I always knew about her silent infatuation with me," he replied, feeling guilty, because phrased that way, it sounded like he used Galata. That thought caused him deep pain.

"Did you use her to forget me?" the woman asked, but he remained lost in his thoughts without answering her. "Do you love her?"

That question made his heart leap in his chest. "Do I love her?" he wondered. However, everything seemed so complex because he had never allowed himself to feel emotions. If he was cold before the breakup with Helena, with her departure, the little warmth he possessed left with her.

He began to think about how much he hadn't fully given himself to Galata, while she had given her all. Again, remorse made its appearance, gnawing at him as if a torrent of water were slowly undermining his foundations.

"Helena, none of that matters now... what matters is that I'm no longer available... our time has passed, and there's no turning back. The past is behind us, and there's no way to bring it back."

"I loved you, and how could I not, since we were together for so many years, loving each other. My heart still beats strongly for you, but life didn't allow us to be together. But now I don't want to fail my family; I love them, they are my home and the place where I renew my strength and energy. Their scent fills my senses; they give me a peace I can't find anywhere else. No matter how much my strength fails, just thinking of them renews it, like the eagles."

He stood up and walked to the door, opening it to distance himself. She stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

"I understand you, and I truly wish you happiness. However, I have two requests to make of you; please don't deny them," she said in a pleading tone. He hesitated but finally agreed.

"Tell me, what are these two requests?" he asked, as his heart pounded frantically in his chest; he had to admit she was not indifferent to him.

"Who is she?" the woman asked with a mix of sorrow, anger, and disappointment.

"Galata Ferrari," he stated, a sigh escaping his mouth.

"Her?" Matteo nodded. "She's the twins' sister. I always saw her look at you with admiration, and I never got jealous because I saw her as too much of a child to believe her capable of competing with me... life's ironies," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"My second request is, give me a kiss, just one, to keep forever in my heart." Perhaps she was being selfish, but she needed to feel his lips at least one more time.

Matteo looked at her in surprise. For a moment, his mind went blank. However, he finally agreed.

"Alright," he pronounced and brought his lips to hers, placing them on her mouth. She responded with greater impetuosity than necessary, invading the inside of his mouth again, and seconds later, she pulled away.

"Thank you very much. If one day Galata decides to leave you, I will still wait for you." She hugged him once more, and then he pulled away and rushed out; he didn't want to be tempted.

Helena watched him leave, until he took the elevator. She entered the room, slid down the door, and cried as never before. She had lost him forever! And although she was sure that if she insisted, she could make him fall, she couldn't do it, because she would never be capable of building her happiness at the cost of another woman's sadness, even if that woman had come into his life after her.

Her body trembled from her sobs. She felt so much pain; she didn't know why her life had suddenly turned upside down. She hadn't known the meaning of happiness during those seven years. She hugged herself, feeling pity and trying to give herself encouragement.

Her cell phone began to ring persistently. She stood up, wiped her tears, tried to calm down, and answered it; it was her mother.

"Helena, dear, are you alright? Did you find him?" her mother inquired on the other end of the line. She sobbed again.

"No, Mommy, I'm not alright. Why didn't you tell me Matteo married Galata Ferrari?" she questioned with pain.

"Daughter, I swear I didn't know. I don't know if your father had that information; if he did, he never gave it to me. Besides, we were focused on you, your father on work. And from Vipiteno to Rome, there are many miles. We weren't keeping up with social media or anything like that; we only cared about your recovery."

"Then, when you regained your memory, you didn't want to know or look for anything about him until you were well."

"I'm sorry, Mom, the mistake was mine, for believing in Matteo's immense love. At some point, I thought he wouldn't be able to continue without me. I'm going back to Vipiteno tomorrow," she hung up the call, walked to her room, and began packing her bags. She had to leave; this was no longer her place.

However, as she started packing, the doorbell rang. She frowned, wondering who would be at the door. When she opened it, she saw that man with a smile. A cold sweat ran down her back; she couldn't help but feel a sense of displeasure.

"What are you doing in my suite?! How did you know I was here?!" she expressed, deeply angry.

**

Matteo arrived home, not even bothering to go to the master bedroom. He undressed and showered in the hallway bathroom, brushing his teeth, all the while unable to stop thinking about his encounter with Helena. It was recurrent. He repeatedly hit his forehead against the wall, uncaring of the pain; he was filled with rage at himself. He felt like the vilest of traitors, and that went against his principles.

When he felt he had washed enough, erasing every trace of Helena from his body, he came out, went to the master bedroom, and didn't find her. For an instant, he felt a fear he had never known. He ran to the child's room and found her there, asleep. He felt his soul return to his body again. He went to his bedroom, put on boxers and shorts, and returned to the room.

He sat on a piece of furniture beside the bed where Galata was hugging her son, resting her nose on his little neck.

"What have I done with my life?" he murmured.

He couldn't recall any warm moments from those almost seven years. How many times had he hugged or kissed his son? He did, but not often. And his wife? Only during sex, but then he would turn his back on her. He never thanked her or woke up embracing her. He had grown accustomed to the routine, to the point of becoming robotic without realizing it. Seeing Helena made him realize that, especially when she told him about their lost child. Although it hurt him, he couldn't express his feelings. He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration.

When did he decide to surround his heart with that iron armor? He realized it was an unconscious act. He sat in that armchair for over an hour, lamenting the person he had become.

He stood up, kissed his son on the forehead, then turned his attention to Galata. He brushed the hair from her face, felt tenderness, and his heart clenched in his chest, seeing her with an expression of innocence. His eyes welled up. He felt so guilty for having denied her so much. He lifted her, and despite her pregnancy, she wasn't overweight; she was perfect.

As he carried her to the bedroom, a lock of hair fell across his face, and he inhaled her scent—sweet, a mix of rose and lavender—which always managed to calm his anxiety. He had the impression that her essence reached his heart. She turned and placed her nose on his chest. He felt his skin prickle and a kind of electric current run through him from head to toe, settling in his lower abdomen, where immediately, his manhood rose proudly.

He carefully laid her on the bed, and he lay beside her. With one hand, he held her, and with the other, he caressed the belly where their child was growing. Her hair fell across his chest; its soft, sexy, and seductive scent made his heart thump as if several wild horses were galloping within him.

He couldn't help but kiss her lips, taste that sweet, intoxicating flavor. He swore to God that from that moment on, he would show her importance. He would discover his feelings for her and demonstrate them to her every moment.

Galata half-opened her eyes, thinking she was dreaming. She parted her lips provocatively. Matteo brought his mouth to hers, tracing the outline of her lips. He felt his heart so wild, seemingly about to burst from his mouth; it was pounding almost in his throat.

"Galata, my sweet Galata!" he exclaimed almost breathlessly and plunged his tongue into her mouth, exploring every hidden space within, feeling his body enveloped by the gigantic flames of passion.

He felt euphoric, as never before. He didn't know what had happened inside him that day, but he felt his emotions on the surface, which he didn't know how to define. For now, however, he wouldn't think about it, he decided, as he slowly continued to explore every inch of his wife's skin.