He Protected My Baby’s Killer So I Left Him Chapter 19
Leo stopped sending me packages of Toast’s old things.
Marco donated the remade cloud lamp to a children’s charity.
Every year, on the anniversary of the day I left, Nico sent a single, two-word text.
I’m sorry.
I never answered.
Matteo never contacted me again.
But I heard from old friends that he never sold the apartment in New York.
The nursery was kept just as it had been.
A new cat tree stood in the living room.
But there was no child.
No Toast.
And no me.
He stayed in that restored home, as if believing that if he put everything back in its place, one evening I would push open the door and walk back in.
But he had forgotten.
A home isn’t made of furniture.
A home is someone staying when you’re sick.
A home is someone coming when you’re scared.
A home is someone standing by your side when you’ve been hurt.
They had never done any of those things.
When my project wrapped, my company gave me a long vacation.
My parents asked where I wanted to go.
I chose a city by the sea.
Matteo used to say that after we got married, he would take me to see the ocean.
Over ten years, we planned it so many times.
But every time, Isabella would have some last-minute crisis, and the trip would be canceled.
She got dumped.
She got sick.
It was her birthday.
She had a nightmare.
My plans could always be pushed back.
In the end, even the wedding and the baby were things that could be pushed back.