ข้านะหรือคือลูกศิษย์คนโปรดหรือเปล่า

I walk into the banquet hall alone, just in time to see Camilla hand Marcello a drink. He takes it, sips it, and his expression is soft, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

It’s a look I’ve never seen on his face.

But when he turns and sees me, the softness vanishes, replaced by cold irritation.

Before, I would’ve used his thoughts to soothe myself. I would’ve told myself he loved me, he just didn’t know how to show it.

That’s how I’ve survived the last six years.

But now, I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, their silent mockery. The Don’s wife, upstaged by a mere assistant.

This is a public humiliation. No mercy.

I’m tired.

“Let’s get a divorce.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when the color drains from Marcello’s handsome face.

“Lilian! Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” One of the family elders panics, rushing forward to smooth things over. “The Don is just mad you were late. This is an important night, don’t throw a tantrum…”

“You’re not usually one to sweat the small stuff. What’s gotten into you?”

I laugh. “You know it’s an important night? Then what about Camilla? Does her position mean she should be here?”

Camilla’s eyes well up with tears. Marcello’s voice cuts through the room, laced with anger.

“Have you made enough of a scene?”

“You want a divorce? Fine! Then get the hell out! The Valence family has no place for a woman who doesn’t know her place!”

Beneath his sharp words, I hear his real thoughts.

Darling, a divorce? You’re not really leaving me, are you? You promised you’d love me forever.

This is a joke, right? As soon as I get angry, you’ll rush over and hold me.

I’ve been dealing with his two faces for six years.

Six years ago, my skills as a surgeon saved Marcello’s life after he was critically wounded in a gang war.

Because he was kidnapped as a child, he has severe PTSD. He uses the sharpest, most vicious words to attack everyone around him.

But I can hear his thoughts.

Whenever he tells me to get lost, his mind is always begging, almost pathetically: Don’t go. I need you.

I was intrigued. I pitied him. And I fell in love.

In six years of marriage, my presence has helped his condition improve. He can interact normally with others now. But with me, and only me, he’s still cold as ice.

Because of his thoughts, I told myself he loved me.

Until Camilla showed up.

I see the glittering diamond necklace around her neck, the one Marcello just bought at auction last week.

I see the news about him chartering a yacht for her birthday party. I see the man who screams his love for me in his head giving all his real affection to someone else.

Now, he’s even given the spot by his side to someone else.

Even if his thoughts keep screaming that he loves me, that he’s just trying to make me jealous to feel secure.

I’ve finally woken up. Real love is gentle. It’s patient.

I’m done lying to myself.