The night felt longer than usual.
The silence in the apartment was no longer comforting. It was heavy, pregnant with words unsaid and truths that clawed under the skin. Alessia lay still in bed, her back turned to the door, her eyes fixed on the empty side of the mattress that once smelled of Luca's cologne.
She didn't hear his footsteps, not this time.
But she knew he was there.
He stood by the door, his shadow blending with the darkness, hesitant. Broken. Silent.
"Alessia," he whispered.
She didn't answer.
His voice cracked with guilt. "I know you're awake, love. I... I just want to talk."
Still, she didn't turn. Didn't blink. Her chest was a dam, and the weight behind it threatened to break her apart.
"I'm only doing this because Bianca's pregnant. She asked for one night. One massage. She says she feels alone."
Alone? The word made her eyes sting. What about me? Alessia screamed in her mind. Aren't I the one being left behind in my own marriage?
