I wear his name like a scar.
Alessandro Rossi stole everything from me; my freedom, my future, the lie I told my father to keep him alive. He thinks I'm a tool to be used, a bride to be displayed, a Fraga to be broken. He thinks the ring on my finge...
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Two months later.
It felt like drowning, like being pulled under dark, crushing waves with no way to surface.
The weight of it pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My body fought for air, thrashing for a sliver of light, for relief that wasn't there. Just this suffocating darkness dragging me deeper, into that familiar pit of grief and despair.
Losing my father-my last piece of family-had left a hollow ache that refused to heal.
But then, in the midst of that suffocating abyss, something shifted.
It wasn't much, just a tiny spark, but it was enough. A glimmer of hope, a small piece of me still fighting, reminding me there was something worth holding on to. That fragile hope was my anchor, my light in the darkness, and it came in the form of my babies—my twins.
Walking away from Alessandro and everyone else had been the hardest thing I'd done since leaving Vigo three years ago. Two months had passed since my father's funeral. Two months since I last held Alessandro, felt his touch, kissed him. Two months since I let go of everything we had.
Once I returned to New York, I picked up where Alessandro had left off. I called my lawyer and told him to finalize the divorce, to finish what Alessandro had already started. It was the only way forward now, no matter how much it hurt.
I placed my hand over my stomach, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I felt the soft, fluttering movements of my twins. Nearly five months along, and now I could feel them more clearly, little reminders that life was still growing, still thriving within me. They were my strength, my reason to keep moving forward, no matter how broken I felt some days.
Today though, was a big day. I'd finally get to learn the genders of my babies, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a wave of excitement that overshadowed everything else. I'd spent the morning imagining what it would be like-decorating the nursery, choosing names, and planning for a future where my twins would be my whole world.
Last night, I'd sent Alessandro a text. Just a simple message letting him know about the ultrasound appointment. But he didn't even reply. Typical Alessandro. Always leaving things unspoken, unread, unresolved.
We might be getting a divorce, but he was still their father. He had every right to know and be a part of their lives, even if we couldn't make ours work. Whether or not he chose to show up was entirely up to him. I wouldn't beg or push.
I grabbed my bag and car keys, pausing to glance at myself in the mirror. My bump was more pronounced now, a visible reminder of how much my life was changing. "Alright, babies," I whispered, rubbing my belly. "Let's go find out who's in there."
