Breaking Free From Broken Love

I paced around the living room, back and forth, like a caged animal.

What could I do to wipe that smug look off Maria's face on Instagram?

Maybe dig up an old photo of Luca and me, something intimate, just to remind the world who he married.

But the truth?

In seven years of marriage, I could barely find a single photo of us that looked romantic.

Luca always said, "In this business, privacy keeps us alive."

So tell me, if privacy's so damn important, why was he letting Maria post him all over her stories?

My hands trembled as I picked up my phone.

I thought maybe she'd already deleted the last post, as that's what Luca always told me to do.

Nope.

Instead, she'd posted again. Just minutes later.

This time, she was on the beach in a bikini, same color as her tight evening dress from earlier, draped over her arm.

She had one heel hooked lazily on her pinky finger.

Then she tossed a handful of water straight at Luca while standing in the surf.

And he was smiling at her.

Actually smiling.

I blinked. Who the heck was filming this? My daughter? Dora?

They looked like a real family. A picture-perfect one.

And me? What was I?

The woman who gave birth to Dora after a hellish pregnancy, who stayed quiet and obedient in the middle of the Moretti chaos just to protect our family name?

The woman still waiting at home for a husband who promised, 'I won't be long'?

Guess what, Luca? You're not quick. You're just gone.

I was done. I was completely, soul-crushingly done.

I locked the screen of my phone, my vision blurring with heat and rage.

My fingers brushed over the ring again.

This time, I took it off.

It didn't mean anything anymore.

I picked up my phone and called his mother, Fiona Moretti. She answered almost instantly.

"Mother," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I'm sorry, but this year… I might not be able to make it to the family reunion, because..."

"That's unacceptable, Catrina," she snapped, cutting me off. "Luca's brother managed to fly in from Italy with business on his plate. There's no excuse."

Then she hung up.

Just like that. Cold. Dismissive. Exactly like her son.

I stared at my phone for a moment, then shoved the ring, worth a cool million dollars, into my pocket.

I was done being ruined in silence.

If I was leaving, I was taking something with me. I wanted to leave with my daughter.

Maybe it was my fault for letting Maria stay so close to Dora.

I had no idea what she whispered to her, what lies she told to make my baby turn on me.

But I believed, and I had to believe, that if I could just spend time with Dora, she'd remember who I really was.

I changed out of my casual clothes and into a tailored LV suit.

Neat. Sharp. Elegant. I looked like someone worth taking seriously.

The house was still hot, still dark, the electricity still out.

I didn't care anymore.

I left and set the beach as my destination. They had to be there. I just hoped I wasn't too late.

But nothing's ever smooth in my life.

The first driver canceled, said it was too far.

I waited another twenty minutes before finally getting a ride.

By the time I reached the beach, the sun was already setting.

They were gone.

I checked Maria's Instagram again.

Luckily, ten minutes ago, she posted a new story, this time at a nearby restaurant.

I rushed there.

And what did I see the second I walked in?

Maria was feeding Luca soup. Same spoon. Smiling. Like she belonged there.

And Dora? She sat beside them, quietly playing a game on her phone like it was normal.

I couldn't take it.

I stormed over, picked Dora up into my arms.

She gasped, clearly shocked, staring at me like I was a stranger.

Then she pushed me away.

"Don't touch me, Catrina!"

Catrina. Not Mom. Not even Mama.

Maria stood up, rushing over with her usual fake concern, Dora, it's okay..."

But I stepped between them.

"She's my daughter," I said sharply. "You better remember that. Which means, you have no right to interfere. You're just the maid."

Dora pulled away from me, running straight to Maria.

She clutched her hand like she was clinging to life.

"You're the one who doesn't have the right," she snapped at me. "Maria can do whatever she wants!"

I couldn't even speak. My heart felt like it cracked in half.

My voice came out weak. "Dora, sweetheart… what did I do wrong? Why are you pushing me away? Why are you defending a maid?"

Dora crossed her arms. "You look down on Maria. But to me, Maria's not just a maid."

"Then what is she to you?" My voice shook. I was barely holding it together.

Before she could answer, Luca stood up, his tone as icy as ever. "That's enough, Catrina. I told you to wait. What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" I laughed bitterly. "Luca, I wasn't going to wait until tomorrow like a fool!"

Maria stepped in again, with her fake concern turned all the way up. "I'm sorry, Catrina. I didn't mean to upset you. We just wanted Dora to feel safe. Maybe we should leave now. There are people watching, and it could put Luca at risk."

Luca looked around, scanning the crowd.

"She's right," he muttered. "Catrina, stop with the drama. Sit down and eat something. Or go wait in the car."

Drama.

Now I was drama.

I looked at Dora one last time. She stared at me like she didn't recognize me at all.

I turned to Luca, lowering my voice. "Can we talk outside? Just a minute."

He sighed, annoyed, but nodded.

Outside, the night had fully fallen. Streetlights buzzed overhead.

I looked at the man I used to love.

"Luca, can you ask Maria to leave us for a while? Just let me talk to Dora without her around. I think she'd open up if Maria wasn't always between us."

He shook his head. "Catrina, this isn't about Maria. This is about you. You need to face that. We don't have time for this. I've still got a three-hour drive ahead."

"Oh, so you had time to splash around at the beach, but now you're suddenly in a hurry?"

He frowned. "You're tracking us now?"

"You left me no choice."

"You've changed, Catrina."

"So have you," I said quietly.

He didn't respond. Just turned and walked back into the restaurant.

As he did, I noticed Maria staring at us through the window.

He told me to wait again. But I wasn't that woman anymore.

I walked away from the restaurant, hailed a cab, and as soon as I got in, I pulled out my phone and typed the words I never thought I'd send:

"Let's divorce. I'm not going to the family reunion."

I hit send. Then I shut my phone off.