The apartment was small, stuffy… and smelled of the past. Every corner brought echoes of a time I thought I had overcome. The old furniture was still there, firm, aged. The crooked pictures on the walls, the dusty books on the shelf — everything remained exactly as I had left it before moving to the house where I dreamed of building a life with Shamantha.
I lived there for years. My refuge, my nest. A lonely place, but mine. And now, it seemed like the only safe place I could run to after the night everything fell apart.
The whiskey bottle lay empty on the coffee table, and the glass tipped over on the floor left a dark trail on the carpet, like a scar of everything I wanted to forget. The bitter taste was still in my mouth, even with the hangover shattering me from the inside. I woke up with the sun piercing through the curtain and a throbbing pain pulsing in my head. My eyes burned. My body weighed. But what hurt the most… was my heart.
The memories came like sharp blades, cutting through every attempt at denial.
Her face.
Her slight smile.
Her hand on his.
The touch on his face.
That kiss too close to be innocent.
Rodrigo.
And her.
My wife.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror. I didn't recognize the man before me. Pale. Deep circles under his eyes. Lifeless eyes. A stranger in his own skin.
"Never again," I thought, firmly, staring at that destroyed reflection. "I never want to see her in front of me again."
I lingered in the shower, as if the water could wash away not only the smell of alcohol, but also the bitterness that had become ingrained in my skin. I put on the first clean shirt I found — still wrinkled, forgotten at the bottom of the drawer — and left.
I drove in silence to Valter and Mary's house, her parents. I didn't exactly know why I had chosen to go there. Maybe because, despite everything, I still deeply respected them. Or maybe because I needed to end this in a dignified way, looking into the eyes of those who had always welcomed me as a son.
When I parked in front of the gate, Mary appeared on the porch. She smiled. That same smile, light, affectionate. As if the world was still in place.
"Leonardo! What a pleasant surprise, my son!" she said, opening the door before I even got out of the car.
Valter soon appeared behind her, smiling and opening his arms as he always did.
"Come in, young man. Good to see you here."
I tried to return the smile. I forced it. But my eyes didn't lie. The pain was there, stamped, alive, screaming from within. I went in. I sat on the living room sofa. They settled in front of me, and the initial silence was denser than any words.
Mary was the first to notice.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, with a worried look. "You seem dejected..."
I took a deep breath. I needed strength to say it. But I couldn't pretend anymore. Or hide it.
"I came here because you deserve to know the truth. My marriage with Shamantha… it hasn't been going well for a while now."
Valter frowned, surprised.
"What do you mean, son? But you always seemed so united…"
"We seemed to be," I corrected, with bitterness dripping in my voice. "But the truth is that Shamantha never loved me as I loved her. And… yesterday, I saw it with my own eyes. She was with another man. Her boss. Rodrigo. Holding hands. Exchanging affection. As if I had never existed."
Mary brought her hand to her mouth, shocked.
"My God… Leonardo, no… there must be some mistake..."
"There's no mistake, Mary. I saw it. She didn't bother to hide it. And that's not all. She's been avoiding me for a while now, treating me like a stranger. Like a burden. I tried… I swear I tried everything to save this marriage. I endured in silence, carried it alone. I waited for her to look at me the way I looked at her. But it's over."
Silence fell like a stone in the middle of the room. Valter lowered his head, serious. Mary seemed desolate, speechless.
"And what do you intend to do now?" Valter asked, cautiously.
I raised my face. For the first time in days, I felt firmness in myself.
"I came to tell you that my lawyer will be contacting Shamantha in the next few days. We will start the divorce process. And, with all due respect for you… I wanted you to know this before she did."
"Leonardo…" Mary tried to say something, her eyes watering. "Don't you want to talk? Maybe…"
"No, Mary," I interrupted, gently, but determined. "There's no more talk. There's no more marriage. I'll send someone to pick up my things. I don't want to see her. Ever again."
Valter stared at me for a few moments. Then, he nodded slowly.
"Alright, son… We'll talk to her."
I got up. I adjusted my shirt cuffs, swallowed hard, and said:
"I dreamed of a life with your daughter. I dreamed of a family, children… love. But love is not built alone. Thank you for everything you have always done for me."
Mary hugged me. And in her embrace I felt the weight of someone who was also losing.
"I'm sorry, Leonardo… I'm sorry for our daughter."
I returned the hug, although I no longer had the strength to cry. And I left.
I closed the gate behind me like someone closing a cycle. But I couldn't leave all the pain inside. A part still came with me — etched on my back, throbbing in my chest.
I went back to the old apartment. I threw myself on the sofa, the same one where I have cried other losses. I looked at the ceiling for long minutes. The silence was deafening. And all that echoed in my head was the question I was avoiding: "What now?"
What would my life be like without her?
I don't know.
I only know that something inside me broke irreparably. And for the first time, I swore to myself that I would never give myself like this to anyone again.
Never open my heart again.
This kind of pain…
This kind of love…
It's not worth the price I'm paying. I'll try to get up, I know it may take a while, but I'll make it.
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