Page 114 of Runaway in the Mafia
He chose me.
But he let me choose my path.
Or did he?
But the phone next to me never rang. A call from India never came in. It just lay still next to me. As dead as my heart. No messages. No calls.
He knew my parents’ numbers. I was sure he’d had them for a long time. If he could track Rajesh down, he knew who my father was. Yet he hadn’t picked up the phone. Hammered out the details in black and white. He’d done nothing.
Because he’d let me handle it. Trusted me to do it.
I sat upright with a jerk. My head spun with details. He had really waited for me to tell him. Even if he had known I wasn’t telling him everything. My obsessed, demanding, arrogant husband had waited for me to be ready.
When he could have pressed that button and told my parents so easily what had happened. He hadn’t.
And something told me he never would.
If I wanted him, it was going to be up to me. He wouldn’t push me. He wouldn’t force me to choose between my family and him. Even when he had done it for me.
I’d only known his arrogance. His demands. His possessiveness. From the first time I’d sighted him when he’d said to rock up to him, he’d done nothing but shove me against the wall.
But somewhere in there, I’d not seen how lightly he’d pushed. Or how he’d stepped away so I could take the lead when it mattered to me.
If this wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was.
But I’d realised it too late. He’d let me go instead of holding me tight. The moment he did, I floated around without a lifeline to tug me back to him.
Lia brought me dinner. I left it untouched. I didn’t eat. Couldn’t. Food was the last thing on my mind.
It was seven in Sicily. Just past eleven in the night in India.
Lia was lost. She didn’t know how to comfort me. She hadn’t experienced the rollercoaster ride of love to understand it. She tried to cheer me up. Her words slid off deaf ears. I rocked on the bed. Silent tears spilling from my eyes relentlessly. After some time, she gave up and left me to it.
A rustle of movement, and Ada was in the room. She brought a suitcase packed with my clothes. It was dark outside. Ten in the night. Just past two in the morning in Delhi. She didn’t take sides. She didn’t say anything. Only squeezed a file in my hand. My hands shook as they flipped it open, and I found bank statements staring at me. An account under my name and hers.
“Vitale set it up for you, so if you ever want to leave, you can.” A thick tear smeared the papers and soaked through them. Herwords carved through my chest. “He told me to tell you it’s okay to leave if you want,” she said quietly.
He’d given me the choice. Again. My fanatic control freak of a husband had given me the choice. Of all the people, he’d understood how important it was to have that choice when you’d stepped away from an abusive marriage.
I didn’t sleep. I watched the clock with an obsession as heavy as Vitale’s with me. The number of times I’d caught him just looking at me, like I was the most precious thing he owned, filtered through my memories. When the hands hit five a.m., mine were clutched around the phone. Eight thirty in Delhi. I made myself wait. For five more agonising minutes. Then I hit the call button.
Four times it rang. I held my breath the entire time.
“Papa.”
“What is it,beta?”
He only called me daughter when he knew something was wrong. He knew it already from the vibration of my tone.
“Can I come home?”
“Of course.” No what. Why. “I’ll get Ayaan to book a flight.”
I nodded. Even if he couldn’t see me. “Can you not tell Maa?”
“It’ll be our secret,beta.”
I barely hung on until I was done with the call. Then I let sobs tear me apart. Again.He’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I just need to see him. Face to face.One hour later, I walked out of the house with a note to Ada resting on the kitchen table.
