“I know.”“He thought you wouldn’t contact him again.”That caught me off guard.“I’ve messaged him.”“He’s messaged you too,” Matteo said. “Maybe neither of you knew what to say.”I did not ask Matteo to speak for us.That night, I called Nico.His voice was deeper than it had been when I left. We talked about school and the subject he was thinking of studying.Before hanging up, he asked, “Why didn’t you say more to me on the day you left?”“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave if I did.”He drew a breath.“You could have told me.”“I’m telling you now.”After a long time, he said, “I know.”When the call ended, I sat by the window for a while.I cried on the day the divorce was finalized. A document could end our marriage, but it could not make nearly twenty years of it disappear. After crying, I still got up for a meeting the next morning.A few months later, Antonio called to tell me he had met with Matteo.“I didn’t ask you to come this time,” he said.“I wouldn’t have.”“Mat
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