The simplicity of it was almost brutal. While I’d been clinging to Lorenzo’s vague reassurances and unfinished promises, everyone else had already accepted the truth I refused to see—he was never going to choose me.
I took a slow breath and sent her a voice message.
“Mom, handle everything as you see fit. I trust you. I don’t need anything grand. Keep it simple.”
I didn’t realize Lorenzo had come home until his voice sliced through the room, sharp with disbelief.
“A ceremony?” he said. “What ceremony?”
My body stiffened. I ended the call too quickly, but he was already moving toward me, hand outstretched. Before he could grab my phone, his own rang—loud, urgent, impossible to ignore.
Francesca’s voice poured out the moment he answered, shaky and panicked.
“Lorenzo, I think someone’s tailing me. I changed routes twice, but I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”
His expression shifted instantly. Concern replaced confusion, his jaw tightening.
“Stay somewhere public,” he said, already reaching for his jacket. “Don’t leave. I’m coming.”
He didn’t look at me again. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the apartment.