He Crossed Time for Her, So I Left Him Behind

In the last life, Luca saved me first.

I survived the fire with injuries, but nothing fatal. During the days I stayed in the Romano private clinic, he sent flowers, private nurses, and whatever the doctors ordered for my recovery, but he never came to see me himself.

He was busy mourning Celeste.

He arranged her funeral, chose the flowers for the chapel, received every mourner, and stood beside her coffin as if part of him had been buried with her.

Once, I asked him if he regretted saving me.

If he regretted marrying me instead of her.

He wiped my tears and said, “No, Elena. I love you. What I feel for Celeste is grief. She was once part of my life, so I owe her sorrow.”

I tried to believe him.

Then one night, I passed the chapel and heard him speaking to the elders.

“I will never forget Celeste,” he said. “When my time comes, I will find her again.”

His mother cried beside him.

Luca opened a narrow silver locket. Inside was a strand of Celeste’s pale hair.

“I saved Elena first because she was my wife. If I had gone to Celeste first, every family in the city would have called her my mistress and ruined her name.”

His voice lowered.

“If time ever gives me another chance, I will protect Celeste properly.”

The memory faded as I lay in the clinic bed.

From the moment I returned to this life, I had already decided to leave him.

After the doctor cleaned the wound at my side, I asked the nurse for paper, a pen, and access to the family legal office. By the time Luca arrived, the dissolution agreement was folded beneath my blanket.

He came in with one of his men behind him.

The man placed a cream-colored box on the table and left without a word.

Luca said, “I had them send a few things over from the estate. You’ll be more comfortable here.”

Inside were a wool recovery blanket, a silver-handled brush, and a small velvet case.

For a moment, he almost looked like the man I remembered. Calm, careful, faintly guilty.

Then I saw the order slip tucked beneath the blanket.

It was from the family vet.

The blanket was part of Bianca’s recovery kit. The silver-handled brush was for grooming. The velvet case held a collar charm engraved with the cat’s name.

He had not brought them for me.

They were leftovers from Bianca’s emergency order.

I looked up.

“How is Bianca?”

His expression stiffened.

“The vet says she’ll recover.”

“Good.”

He sat beside the bed, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“About tonight,” he said. “Don’t tell the elders that Celeste asked me to leave with Bianca first. They already misunderstand her place in this family, and I don’t want them using this against her.”

So that was why he had come.

Not because I was hurt, but because he needed me silent.

I looked away.

“You said you would agree to anything if I helped keep this from the elders.”

Luca nodded. “Within reason.”

I pulled the folded papers from beneath the blanket and covered the title with my hand, leaving only the signature line visible.

“Then sign this.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What is it?”

“An agreement.”

“For what?”

“A promise that you will never love another woman more than your wife.”

He stared at me for a moment, then gave a tired laugh.

“Elena.”

In his eyes, I had always been sentimental enough for things like this. Years ago, I made him sign little vows on napkins, dinner menus, and scraps of paper tucked into books. Back then, he found it charming.

Tonight, he only wanted the matter finished.

He took the pen and signed.

The moment his name touched the page, something inside me finally settled.

Luca had once saved me from more than one kind of ruin.

My family had once stood close to the Romanos. Then my father trusted the wrong ally, backed the wrong shipment, and lost everything in one winter. By spring, our accounts were frozen, our men had scattered, and our name became something people avoided saying aloud.

The same families who once toasted my father began treating me like a stain. At the academy, the daughters of capos whispered that ruined blood should not sit at their table.

Luca was the first person who refused to look away.

When a boy spilled wine across my dress and called me a beggar princess, Luca put his jacket over my shoulders and had him removed in front of everyone.

Later, when my father’s last creditor sent men to frighten me outside the old villa, Luca arrived before they could force me into their car. He stood between us with a gun in his hand and told them the Romano family had claimed me.

For years, those memories made me stay.

Now his name was on the papers that would let me leave.