A Sickness of Roses and Lies

Seeing my calm expression, Enzo frowned but said nothing.

I watched him pick up his pajamas and head for the bathroom. After a long hesitation, I called out to him.

“Enzo, why won’t you go abroad for treatment? Do you really love me? Or… is there someone else in your heart? Have these three years just been one long lie?”

For the past three years, I had sanded down all my edges, molding myself into a pliant, quiet woman—someone unrecognizable. I had become a pale imitation of myself, all to keep his violent emotions stable.

I never lost my temper in front of him. I never even allowed myself the slightest hint of unhappiness.

Without realizing it, I had forgotten that I was human, too, that I also needed an outlet.

Enzo’s face darkened. For a split second, guilt flashed in his eyes.

He crouched in front of me, taking my hand, his voice low and comforting. “I’m sorry, Isabella. I thought I could control myself. I didn’t expect it to happen again and again. But please believe me—I love you. I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

Despite the apparent sincerity in his eyes, my gaze fell to his open collar. The rose tattoo with a ‘B’ for Bella—my nickname—had been artfully modified, a new vine twisting the letter into an ‘S’. A sickening wave of absurdity washed over me.

“Is that so?” I asked, my voice light. “Then do you remember what you said the day you confessed to me?”

He fell silent.

I knew he remembered.

That day, when he told me he loved me, he had also promised—he would never cheat, never betray me. He would cherish me forever.

And I had told him that if he ever broke that promise, I would leave him without a second thought.

I smiled faintly, tracing the corner of his eye with my finger. “Enzo, I hope you keep your promise. I’ll keep mine, too. If I ever find out you’ve lied to me or betrayed me, I will leave. And you will never find me again.”

Panic washed over his face. He pulled me into a desperate embrace, as if trying to merge me into his very bones. His voice trembled in my ear. “No, Isabella. We won’t be separated. Never—not in this lifetime.”

“Do you remember?” he continued, his voice unsteady. “That year—you went to a party in Brooklyn with your friends and got caught in a street shootout.

I was afraid something would happen to you, so I rushed in to find you.

I took a bullet for you. I nearly died, Isabella.”

“You were terrified. I was in the hospital for a month. You asked me if I regretted it. I told you I didn’t. So please, believe me, Isabella. I love you. I’ll never betray you. I’ll never lie to you. I’ll get better. I’ll control myself. I’ll get treatment. Please… don’t give up on me.”

My neck grew damp with his tears, but my heart was a stone in my chest.

Enzo was a master liar. Even now, he was still deceiving me.

But seeing the calm on my face, he—as usual—assumed I had been placated. He kissed my forehead gently, stood up, and went into the bathroom.

Soon, the sound of running water came from behind the door.