Page 59 of Forsaken Promises

To accept the harsh, bitter truth that’s been staring me in the face all along.

He doesn’t love me. Not really, not in the way that I need him to. And no matter how much I may wish it were different, no matter how fiercely I may cling to the scraps of affection he tosses my way…

It will never be enough, will never fill the aching, empty void that his betrayal has carved into my soul.

I'm almost at the door, my hand reaching for the handle, when I feel Dom’s fingers close around my arm. He spins me around, forcing me to face him, and I can see the confusion and anger warring in his hazel eyes.

“What the hell are these for?” he demands, holding up the plane tickets like they’re a piece of damning evidence. “Where were you planning on going, Sofia? And why?”

I feel the tears that I’ve been holding back for so long finally spill over, tracking hot and bitter down my cheeks. “They were for you, you idiot,” I choke out, my voice cracking with the weight of my pain and disappointment. “I bought them as a surprise, after our conversation the other night. I thought… I thought you might like to go somewhere other than Italy for once. To try something new, something different.”

A flicker of something that might be understanding crosses his face, but I’m too far gone to care, too lost in the maelstrom of my own emotions to hold back the words that are pouring out of me like a flood.

“I picked a beautiful place in France,” I continue, my voice rising with each word. “Somewhere we could go backpacking and wine tasting, like ordinary people. Like the adventures you always talked about wanting, the ones I thought we could share together.”

I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter even to my own ears. “But I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I? Wrong to think that you might actually want to build a life with me, to create new memories and experiences that were just ours.”

Dom’s grip on my arm loosens, his expression softening into something that looks almost like regret. “Sofia, I… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize?—”

“Of course you didn’t,” I cut him off, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “Because you never do, Dom. You never stop to think about how your words and actions might affect me, about how much it hurts to be constantly pushed away and rejected by the man I love.”

I shake my head, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over me. “I’m tired, Dom. Tired of hoping, tired of dreaming of a future that's never going to happen. You didn’t love me the first time around, and I was a fool to think that this time would be any different.”

I turn away from him, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “My parents… they found a fairytale love, a bond that’s so strong and so pure that not even death can tear them apart. And now, with my father’s illness… it’s like fate is playing some cruel, twisted joke on all of us.”

I swipe at my tears, hating myself for the weakness, for the vulnerability that I can’t seem to shake. “But you and me? We’re not like them, Dom. We’re not meant for that kind of love, that kind of happiness. And no matter how much I may wish it were different… I can’t keep deluding myself into thinking otherwise.”

As I pour out my heart to Dom, laying bare all the pain and disappointment that his actions have caused me, I see something in his eyes. Something that looks almost like regret, like a dawning realization of just how much he’s hurt me.

Good.

But I know better than to trust it, know better than to let myself be swayed by the false hope of his remorse. Because I’ve been down this road before, haven’t I? I’ve seen the way he can turn on a dime, the way his affection can shift to cold indifference in the blink of an eye.

And I'm tired of it. Tired of being his yo-yo, of being pulled back and forth by the whims of his stupid heart.

So when he reaches for me again, his fingers brushing against my arm in a gesture that’s both familiar and unwelcome, I snap. I shove him back, putting as much distance between us as I can in the cramped confines of the room.

“No,” I say, my voice hard and unyielding. “No more, Dom. I’m done being your plaything, your emotional punching bag. I can’t keep doing this, can’t keep letting you pull me in, only to push me away again.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Don’t. Don’t youdaretry to tell me that it’s different this time, that you've changed or that you're sorry. Because I’ve heard it all before, Dom. I’ve fallen for your empty promises more times than I can count.”

I take a deep breath. “But not anymore. Never again. I’mdone, Dom. Done with you, done with this twisted game we've been playing for far too long.”

I see the shock and the hurt that flash across his face, the way his eyes widen and his mouth falls open in a silent plea. But I harden my heart against it, against the pull of his pain and his regret.

Because I know now, with a clarity that's as sharp and cold as a knife’s edge, that he will never be the man I need him to be. He will never be the partner, the equal, the soulmate I’ve been searching for all my life.

And I deserve better. I deserve more than the scraps of his affection, the crumbs of his love that he tosses my way when it’s convenient for him.

So I turn away from him, my head held high and my shoulders squared against the weight of his gaze, and I walk out of the room, out of his life, with a finality that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

29

DOMINICO

Istand there, staring at the plane tickets in my hand, a wave of shock and disbelief crashing over me. Sofia bought these for me. For us. A surprise trip to France, a chance to escape the weight of our world and just be together, like any other ordinary couple.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs and sending a swell of emotion rising up in my throat. All the frustration and exhaustion from my hellish day, all the dark thoughts and bitter memories that have been haunting me… they all fade away in the face of this one simple truth.

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