na "Ca

Little Italy, a place so old and unassuming that non

re kids, long before she became a brillia

a cup of coffee across the table. "It'

ord "yes" catch

You gave up everything for him. Your art, your friends... you

per escaped me. "

y voice dropping. "

ace went pal

with privacy, the way he guarded his phone and his

emanded absolute secrecy in our marriage,

" restaurant on our first anniversary. He'd been q

new the

h her, and I was just the stand-i

it the empty spac

by the end of the day," Giuliana said, her

like Alex, this isn't a divorce. It's an

wouldn't see a heartbroken wife; he w

after my wedding, whispered in the c

she'd said. "Beautiful, valuable, something to hang o

then. I'd spent five year

," I murmured, looking down at my coffee. "But they do

up, a sudden downpour

nside, shaking a large black umbrella. It was Marco, Giu

into a warm smile. He walked over to our

m was so easy, so natura

e was a tr

. He glanced at me. "Mrs. De Luca. Can I

mall smile. "Thank you, Marco

apped protectively around Giuliana a

were

ears echoed in the empty space they left be

e, devastating answer hit me wi

never a

love me. And