Page 128 of Legacy

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My hand falls away.

She walks into her room.

Closes the door.

And once again—shuts me out.

Chapter 25

Angelo

Day 1

I don’t speak to her the next morning.

Not because I’m angry.

Because I don’t trust what would come out of my mouth if I opened it.

She doesn’t leave her room until after I’m gone. But I leave breakfast on the counter anyway—poached eggs, toast with jam, black coffee, oat milk in the fridge, and six sugar packets. The way she likes it.

I leave a sticky note on the plate with just one word.

Adriana.

No message. No plea. Just her name.

It sits there quietly, like I wish I could.

When I come back hours later, the plate is clean. But the note is gone.

I find it later while making dinner—tucked into the trash. Perfectly folded.

Not crumpled.

Not torn.

Just… neatly discarded.

Even when she throws me away, she does it carefully.

I heat her dinner. Leave it in the microwave.

And go to bed with her silence wrapped around my ribs like a belt.

Day 2

There’s a basket of laundry in the corner of the laundry room.

She must’ve been too busy studying for the bar to remember.

So I do it.

Fold every shirt, every pair of jeans. Even the lingerie she doesn’t wear for me.

I try not to think about who she wore it for before.

Or if she’s wearing it for someone else now.

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