Chapter 4
Three weeks had passed since Amelia left, since the tension between them exploded in a bitter argument and he, blinded by disbelief, refused to see the truth. He told himself that she just needed time to calm down, to understand things from his perspective. But as the days went by, that justification began to crumble. Guilt consumed him, and the nights were filled with sleeplessness, with the image of Amelia engraved in his mind.
One gray afternoon, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Lorenzo decided to search for her. He needed to see her, talk to her, beg if necessary, but he couldn't keep waiting for things to fix themselves. Since the moment he returned from his trip, something hadn't been right. He felt it deep in his soul. However, he never imagined what awaited him when he returned home.
Upon entering, the silence enveloped him like a heavy, oppressive cloak. The house, which once vibrated with Amelia's presence, now felt like a mausoleum of broken memories. Everything was in its place, but the emptiness was palpable, suffocating. Amelia was no longer there.
He walked down the hall, calling her name softly, as if afraid of waking the ghosts of his own negligence. But there was no answer. Each room echoed back his own despair. His steps led him to their bedroom, where the neatly made bed greeted him with the coldness of an unannounced goodbye. He opened the wardrobe, and the blow was immediate: Amelia's clothes were gone. She had left him.
A knot formed in his throat, and for the first time since it all began, Lorenzo realized what had truly happened. This wasn't just a misunderstanding. Amelia wasn't "taking some time" or waiting for him to resolve his own internal dilemmas. She was gone. She had grown tired of waiting, of begging to be heard, of fighting alone against the lies that surrounded them.
In that moment, the weight of his mistake fell on him like a slab. He had let his mother, his fears, and his stubbornness blind him. Amelia had begged him to see the truth, but he had chosen to ignore her, clinging to his mother as if that could keep him safe from facing his own errors. And now, Amelia, the woman he had vowed to protect and love, was gone.
Desperate, he searched for some clue, something that would tell him where she had gone. He rummaged through drawers, notes, any hint that could give him hope, but all he found was emptiness. Amelia had vanished from his life, and he had let her go.
He collapsed onto the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time, the pain Amelia had shown him became real inside him, tearing at every fiber of his being. There was no going back, no words that could undo the damage. And although he would search for her, although he would find her, he knew that winning back her trust would be the hardest battle of his life.
As the sun set behind the horizon, leaving the house in shadows, Lorenzo understood that the love he had once taken for granted was hanging by a thin, fragile thread. And that thread was getting shorter and shorter.
Later that evening, back at the mansion, while Lorenzo sat in the living room, his mother appeared at the door, leaning on her cane, with that delicate air that made Lorenzo forget, for a moment, the doubts that gnawed at him.
-Have you heard anything about her, dear? -she asked in a soft voice, as if her concern for Amelia were sincere.
Lorenzo shook his head, feeling the guilt suffocating him. His mother looked at him with eyes full of pity, as if she, too, were a victim of it all.
-Amelia couldn't bear my illness, son. I understand, I know how hard it's been for you too -she said with a sadness that seemed genuine-. But you've always been so strong.
He looked at her, feeling a pang in his chest. He knew Amelia had never felt that "affection" his mother spoke of. He knew there was more behind his wife's departure, but how could he distrust his mother in her condition? Her illness was real. It had to be.
While Lorenzo remained trapped in his doubts, Amelia was far away, but not alone. In a luxurious apartment in Paris, she gazed out the window, watching the city shimmer under the glow of the night lights. Beside her, Adrien, her best friend, who had been her unwavering support over the past few years, offered her a glass of wine.
-You're still thinking about him, aren't you? -Adrien asked, a soft but melancholic smile on his lips.
Amelia, or Margaret, as everyone now knew her in the design world, sighed, pulling the glass away from her lips.
-It's not that easy, Adrien. I loved him I love him, but he never believed in me -she confessed, feeling that every word was an open wound.
Adrien looked at her with tenderness, his green eyes reflecting a mix of compassion and something more, something he had never wanted to express aloud. Since he had helped her escape, since he had brought her to Europe and supported her while she relaunched her career under the name Margaret, he had been by her side unconditionally. But he too was caught in a crossroads: the love he felt for Amelia consumed him, but he knew that she still kept Lorenzo in her heart.
-You did the right thing by leaving. He never valued you as you deserved -he said, trying to hide the feeling lurking behind those words.
Amelia looked at him, knowing what he felt, but unable to return it in the way they both wanted. Adrien was her salvation, the friend who appeared when she needed him most. He had taken her from Madrid to Paris, stood by her as she rebuilt her life, becoming the most famous designer in Europe, known for her luxury jewelry, her mystery, and her false name.
-Thank you for everything, Adrien. If it hadn't been for you, I don't know what I would have done -she said sincerely, taking his hand for a moment. But in her mind, the memories of Lorenzo remained alive, like a ghost that refused to disappear.
Adrien smiled at her, though his heart ached.
-Anything for you, Margaret -he replied with a slight tease in his tone, using the name that everyone now knew her by-. But one day, you'll have to leave the past behind. You deserve to be happy, and I don't know if Lorenzo can give you that.
Amelia looked away, biting her lip, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
-Maybe you're right but I can't help but wonder if he if he'll ever see the truth. If he'll understand what I went through because of him.
Adrien set his glass on the table and approached her, taking her hands in his.
-Amelia, don't hold on to what wasn't. You have a new life here. You have success, freedom, and you have someone who values you for who you are.
His words were more than just a statement. They were a declaration, a promise that, if she allowed it, he would love her as Lorenzo never had.
But Amelia couldn't. Not yet.
-Thank you, Adrien. I need time -she whispered, knowing that he would understand.
Meanwhile, far away, Lorenzo was still tangled in a web of emotions. His nights were filled with dreams of Amelia, of her laughter, of her words. And though he tried to convince himself that his mother wasn't lying, each day it became harder to ignore the doubts that grew within him.