After a long silence, he replied:
—You don't have to leave. Tomorrow I'll put the villa in your name.
I nodded gently.
-OK.
Adrian had never understood that a woman could have a broken heart and still keep a cool head.
Sometimes, the less you beg, the more willing the culprit is to turn you in.
I left the pen on the table.
—It's late. You have a board meeting tomorrow. I'll sleep in the guest room.
When I walked past him, Adrian grabbed my wrist.
Her fingers closed so tightly that it hurt.
—Elena.
He pronounced my full name, as he only did when he was truly upset.
—Why aren't you making a scene?
I looked at him calmly.
—If I cry, beg you, and refuse to sign… will you change your mind?
His hand tensed.
He did not respond.
Finally, he let me go.
—I'm sorry. You'll receive everything that's rightfully yours.
I tilted my face slightly. Under the warm light of the room, I let him see my reddened eyes.
Not too vulnerable.
Not too indifferent.
-I trust you.
That night, the lamp next to the sofa remained lit until dawn.
The next morning we went together to sign the divorce papers.
