Chapter 29
Lorenzo parked his car in front of the house that, three years ago, had been both his refuge and his torment. The darkened windows and silence enveloped the place, but to him, every corner was alive with memories of Amelia. That house, once a home, now felt like a mausoleum filled with echoes of the past that had kept him away for so long.
He stepped inside slowly, as if afraid to awaken the ghosts he knew resided there. The scent of old wood and furniture untouched for years hit him immediately. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and let out a long sigh.
It had been three years since he'd last lived there. Ever since the day Amelia left, he hadn't been able to stay more than a few hours. He came only to write letters he never sent, unaware of her whereabouts but needing to feel some connection to the love he had lost.
"Why did I come back?" he thought as his eyes scanned the living room. The unlit fireplace still seemed to hold the warmth of the nights they had spent together. The rug beneath his feet had witnessed laughter, arguments, promises made and broken. Everything in that house was Amelia.
He climbed the stairs slowly, each step echoing in the silence. Reaching the bedroom, a wave of emotions hit him. The bed they had shared stood untouched, as though still waiting for them. The walls seemed to whisper her name, and Lorenzo closed his eyes briefly, fighting the lump forming in his throat.
He approached the desk by the window, where a stack of unsent letters rested. He couldn't help but reread them every time he visited, as if the words reminded him of who he had been and what he had lost.
But tonight felt different. There was a new weight in his chest, an urgency he couldn't ignore. Sitting at the desk, he grabbed a blank sheet of paper. For the first time, he knew exactly what to say.
\---
Amelia,
It's been a day since my last letter, but I've never felt such a need to write as I do now. Today, more than ever, I realize how deeply I failed you.
For years, I told myself that you destroyed what we had. But today, the truth hit me like lightning. I learned what my mother and Valeria did to you-how they humiliated you, how they conspired to make your life unbearable. Their cruelty had no limits. But the worst part, Amelia, is that I allowed it to happen.
There are no excuses for my blindness. No words can undo the pain I caused by not listening to you, by not protecting you as I had promised when we vowed to build a life together. I believed my mother's lies, her feigned illnesses, her manipulations. I let guilt and misplaced duty consume me, leaving you to face enemies I should have stood against with you.
I know that saying I'm sorry isn't enough, but I say it from the depths of my soul. I'm sorry, Amelia. I'm sorry for not believing you, for failing to see the truth, for letting you down in so many ways.
I don't expect these words to fix what I broke. I don't expect your forgiveness because I don't deserve it. But I hope that wherever you are, you find the peace and happiness I couldn't give you.
I want you to know that I will change-not because I hope for a second chance with you, but because it's the least I owe you: to become the man I should have been from the start.
With love and regret,
Lorenzo
\---
When he finished, Lorenzo let the pen fall onto the desk. A heavy sigh escaped him, filling the room with the weight of his guilt. His hands trembled as he folded the letter, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the paper carried the burden of all his failures.
Would he ever send it? He didn't know. Even if the letter reached Amelia, there was no guarantee she would read it-much less forgive him. But writing it had been necessary, a first step in facing the demons he had created.
He stood and walked toward the window. His footsteps echoed in the empty room, mocking his solitude. Pulling back the curtains, he gazed out at the city. The Parisian night stretched before him, illuminated by lights indifferent to his torment. The streets and buildings, once his sanctuary, now felt distant, cold.
His reflection in the glass revealed a man he barely recognized: exhausted, broken, yet with a spark of determination in his eyes.
The wind outside rustled the leaves, a reminder of life's fragility. His mind filled with memories of Amelia: her smile, her laughter that could brighten any room, and the last time he saw her, with tears in her eyes and a shattered heart.
-How did we get here? - he whispered, as if the city might answer him.
He knew the letter wasn't enough. Words on a page couldn't erase years of pain. They couldn't bring back Amelia or Mateo or the life he had let slip away. But it was a start, an attempt to confront the wreckage he had caused.
The clock struck midnight as Lorenzo tucked the letter into his pocket, a mix of hope and resignation settling over him. Perhaps one day he would find the courage to give it to Amelia, to face her and say everything he had kept bottled up. Or perhaps he wouldn't.
For now, all he could do was promise himself that this time, things would be different. The night carried on, but for Lorenzo, the real journey was only beginning.