Chapter22
“I didn’t say anything. Why would you think I’m angry?” I felt my fingers turned icy.
Antonio suddenly felt like a stranger.
We’d navigated his decade–long entrepreneurial journey together, side–by–side.
Now, I was reduced to nothing more than a means to end.
Antonio roared, “What do you mean by that? She’s your sister! Why can’t you show her some concern?”
Swallowing the ache in my chest, I took a deep breath. “She’s not my sister. She’s the bastard child of a mistress.”
His face contorted with rage, “Grace! How dare you speak to Stella like that!
“Apologize to her right now! No wonder your own parents abandoned you!
“No wonder no one likes you.
“You’re repulsive!”
He’d actually used my deepest insecurities against me.
My father’s affair and my mother’s subsequent departure had left me feeling unwanted.
I remembered Antonio rushing to my defense whenever he
Chapter22
heard my parents arguing next door.
“Grace,” he’d soothed, “you are the best girl in the world. Even if no one else wants you, I’ll always love you.”
I had believed him.
Growing up, I’d envisioned building a happy family with him, working tirelessly to contribute financially.
But every time I’d mentioned marriage, he’d frowned.
Now I understood why. He’d never loved me.
Tears welled in my eyes as I turned away.
Antonio’s eyes flickered.
&
He seemed to realize he’d gone too far, “I rushed home today and neglected you.”
“It’s okay. You won’t have the opportunity to neglect me again,” replied, my voice glacial.
As I turned to leave, a message from my mom arrived.
She had booked my flight.
The departure date was in two weeks, the day of our wedding.
The countdown to my wedding had become the countdown to my escape.
I quietly discarded the wedding decorations and anything that reminded me of us.
Chapter22
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The next day, Antonio called.
“Grace, are you awake? I bought your favorite borscht.
“I have to go into the office for an emergency, so we’ll need to reschedule the wedding photos.
“I was too harsh last night. I apologize.”
He seemed surprised by my ready agreement. “Lots of people get married without a wedding,” he added awkwardly, “We don’t need one either.”
“I understand,” I said slowly.
This wedding would have no certificate, no photos, no officiant, and no bride.
After the call, I focused on work, determined to put Antonio behind me.
I submitted my resignation and arranged a farewell gathering with close colleagues.
In the following days, I contacted my friends, informing them of the cancalled wedding.
Their response were tinged with awkwardness, “Honestly,” one admitted, “we all suspected you two would break upeventually.”
