I could feel the silence settle like a heavy weight between us, thick and suffocating.
Bruno's gaze held mine, unwavering, and for a moment, I felt trapped by it—like he could see right through me.
I'd finally asked him about his first wife, about that shadow of his past I could never quite understand.
"You want to know about her?" His voice was low, laced with something I couldn't quite name—was it bitterness, or just indifference?
He tilted his head, considering me, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"She got tired of me, Maria," he continued, his tone infuriatingly casual. "One day, she decided I wasn't enough, so she packed her bags, left with one of my bodyguards, and that was the last I heard from her."
I waited, scanning his face for something more—an emotion, an ache, anything that would make his words feel real. But there was nothing.
