Page 21 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Neglected Wife
Ten years...
For ten years, all I thought of myself was as his wife, and now...
I step out into the hallway. It’s the same hallway I’ve walked for a decade, but it no longer feels like it’s part of my life. And even the clothes I’m wearing now...it doesn’t feel right either. I know I should head back to my bedroom and start packing. It’s the practical thing to do.
But I can’t.
All of my clothes and jewelries...they’re for that starry-eyed girl I once was.
That girl had allowed her husband to buy all of those things because she had been so, so stupid.
So, so stupid, God.
Because back then, I really did believe him promising not to disregard my feelings was him promising to try falling in love with me.
Oh God, I was such an idiot.
I bite my lip hard.
Be sensible,my mind urged me.
I should at least grab my wallet, but that would mean heading back to the bedroom, and I just can’t.
I don’t think I can bear seeing the same bed where he mastered my body but never touched my heart.
And so my feet start to move in another direction.
But this hurts, too.
Even with me needing to leave, I have to walk past the same flowers I arranged to brighten up the foyer, and of course they’re his favorite flowers, not mine. And then there’s the console where he drops his keys every night at exactly 6:51, the spot where I used to wait until he...
Stop it, Sienah! Stop! Just stop!
I can’t let my world revolve around him anymore. Not because I don’t want to. But because he told me to leave.
God, help me, please.
The front door looms, and I feel like throwing up.
I know if I walk out, there’s no going back.
And even though the thought terrifies me to death, I somehow find the courage to turn the handle, and a frosty evening wind hits my cheek like a slap.
Monaco glitters below, indifferent to personal catastrophes. The city pulses on, laughter from restaurants, music from clubs, life happening everywhere while I stand on my husband’s doorstep realizing I’m completely, utterly lost.
I start walking. But it doesn’t last. I get clumsy when I’m emotional, and this evening unfortunately isn’t any different. My heel catches on cobblestone, and I stumble.
Behind me, the house glows warm with light that no longer welcomes me, and I can’t stop wondering.
Is he watching me? Can I look back to see? Or has he forgotten me already?
The tears come now, hot and endless, and for the first time in ten years, I don’t wipe them away or check my makeup. For the first time in a decade, I no longer have to care about being the perfect wife to the world’s hottest F1 billionaire.
Just keep walking, Sienah.
Even if every step hurts and makes my heart break bit by bit.
Just take it one step at a time.
