I’m Not His White Rose Anymore Chapter 10
Lorenzo’s hand, reaching out to help, froze in mid-air. For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. He didn’t move for a long, long time.
I didn’t want him to think this was just an emotional outburst, so I tried to keep my voice calm.
“You can see for yourself. It’s not that I can’t tolerate them. It’s that they can’t tolerate me.”
It was as if Lorenzo finally processed what I had said. He knew I wasn’t just angry, that this wasn’t a joke.
He shot to his feet, so flustered he didn’t know where to put his hands.
“Vivian, did you catch a cold from the rain the other day? Do you want me to get you some medicine?”
I looked at him, my expression serious.
“I’m not sick, Lorenzo. Let’s get a divorce.”
The cold pressure in the room returned.
Lorenzo was angry.
“You must be hungry. I’ll go make dinner!”
He stormed into the kitchen, giving me no chance to say another word.
I shook my head and closed myself in my room.
Hearing the door shut, Lorenzo finally let out the breath he had been holding. The tension in his muscles eased slightly.
The power was out, so I lit a candle.
Piece by piece, I began to reassemble the photograph Lina had destroyed.
I don’t know how much time passed before there was a knock on the door.
“Vivian, dinner’s ready.”
I put down the tweezers and came out.
Lorenzo rarely cooked, and the meal was far from delicious.
But he had made my favorite: baked lasagna.
Seeing me pick up my fork, Lorenzo quietly sighed in relief.
After dinner, I washed the dishes.
Lorenzo leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching me. The stiff line of his mouth softened.
After I finished, he went to wash up.
He had cleaned himself up meticulously tonight.
He had even shaved, and there was a faint scent of cologne on him.
I knew what he was planning.
Before he could step into my bedroom, I said:
“Lorenzo, I’m serious about the divorce.”
Lorenzo froze in the doorway again. This time, he acted as if he hadn’t heard me at all.
“If you’re tired, you should get some rest. I won’t bother you.”
He even closed the door for me.
The wooden door shut between us.
I knew he hadn’t left. He was standing right outside.
Through the door, I could faintly hear his slightly ragged breathing.
I ignored it and went back to repairing my mother’s photograph.
The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, I opened my door and was met with a wall of a chest.
Lorenzo stood there, his eyes sunken but his posture as straight as ever, like a weathered oak tree.
He stared at me as if he had made a monumental decision.
“Vivian, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll have someone else take care of Isabella and Lina. From now on, we’ll build a good life together.”
He turned to leave, but his legs, stiff from standing all night, were unsteady. He almost fell.
Watching him go, I felt a flicker of confusion.
This time, he was actually willing to give up Isabella.
I admit, in that moment, my heart wavered.
For a split second, I imagined it: if he really gave up Isabella and Lina, maybe staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad.
But that fantasy shattered quickly.
That afternoon, on my way to the library, I was passing through Lincoln Park when I saw three familiar figures.
Lina was playing on the slide at the playground with a few other kids.
Lorenzo and Isabella stood on either side of the slide, carefully watching over her.
They looked like a perfect, loving family of three.
The tiny ripple of hope in my heart completely vanished.
I laughed at my own foolishness, my own naivety.
