The Ninth Time He Left

The air in the Calabria family's underground club was thick with the smell of whiskey and blood.

I pushed through the crowd and saw the circle of shouting men. In the center, Isak and Sandro sat face to face, a silver revolver on the table between them.

"The rules are simple," Sandro said, toying with the gun. "Six chambers, one bullet. We take turns until one of us is dead."

The crowd roared.

First round. Sandro put the gun to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

Click. An empty chamber.

He pushed the gun toward Isak, a taunting smile on his face. "Your turn."

Isak's hand was shaking. He picked up the gun, hesitating before pulling the trigger.

Click. Another empty chamber.

The second round, third, fourth… all empty.

With the crowd jeering, Isak was losing his grip.

On the fifth round, Sandro looked relaxed. "Two chances left. You sure you want to keep going?"

Isak took a deep breath, said nothing, and raised the gun to his own temple.

Then, locking eyes with Sandro, he yelled, "I TOLD YOU, FOR JULIA, I'D DO ANYTHING!"

Click. Empty.

The crowd went silent.

Isak opened his eyes, a wild look in them. He stared at Sandro. "Your turn. Fold, or die."

For the first time, fear showed on Sandro's face.

After a full minute, Sandro lowered his hands.

"I fold."

The room erupted. Isak had won.

He looked at Julia with a sick, possessive hunger. "Julia, I did it! I did it for you!"

Julia went to him, wrapping him in a hug and whispering in his ear. Isak grinned like a child who'd just been given candy.

I watched it all from the shadows, feeling something inside me break for good.

I slipped out of the club. On the street, I booked a one-way ticket to Montana.

Finally... it's really over.

It was eleven at night when I got back to the villa. I thought Isak would still be out celebrating, but he was home, waiting in the living room.

"Leona, where have you been?" he asked, standing up. His face was still flushed with excitement.

"Just out for a walk," I said, taking off my coat and avoiding his eyes.

"You don't seem right." He moved to hug me, but I stepped aside.

Isak froze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm tired."

"Leona…" He tried to kiss me, his hands going to my neck.

I pushed him away.

A flicker of hurt crossed his face. "Leona, I know you're mad, but today I had to…"

"My wounds hurt. I'm not in the mood."

"I have a surprise for you tomorrow. Just give me one more chance, okay?"

I didn't answer. I just walked into the bathroom.

The next evening, I put on the dress he’d sent and went.

I should at least give this relationship a proper ending, I thought.

Isak showed up in a white suit, his hair perfectly styled, the pen I gave him for our wedding tucked in his breast pocket.

He drove me to the top of the tallest skyscraper in the city. The entire roof was a private restaurant. Candles flickered, rose petals were scattered on the floor, and the city lights glittered below.

"When did you plan all this?" I asked.

"Yesterday," Isak said, taking my hand. "Leona, I know I've let you down, but I want you to know, you are my wife. That will never change."

A sarcastic smile touched my lips.

He had no idea.

He pulled out my chair and poured me a glass of wine. A 1982 Lafite, my favorite.

"Remember our first date, three years ago?" he asked, his eyes soft with nostalgia. "You were so nervous you could barely speak."

I remembered. I still believed in fantasies back then.

"I walked you back to your dorm and stood at the door for half an hour, too scared to kiss you," he laughed. "In the end, you were the one who kissed me first."

As he spoke, fireworks began to explode, painting the night sky.

"Surprised?" Isak asked, taking my hand. "I arranged a private fireworks show just for you."

I pulled my hand away. "Isak, I need to tell you…"