Kimberly POV
One thing my father taught me was the importance of keeping the flowers tidy. Yet, as I scanned the garden, I couldn't help but notice the neglect, overgrown edges, untrimmed blooms. It irked me, especially with a splitting headache pounding behind my eyes, but tending to the flowers offered a strange kind of solace, a brief reprieve from the storm in my head.
Monica's presence gnawed at me, an itch that refused to be ignored. What kind of personal assistant follows her boss home? The way they had interacted that night, anyone could see the familiarity was far more than professional. Lost in thought, I didn't even realize when my clippers slid too far, nicking my nail against a thorn. The sudden sting snapped me back, just as a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"Be careful," Leonardo called out, his voice sharp enough to make me jolt.
Blood welled up from the cut, trailing down my finger, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. Before I could react, Leonardo was beside me, holding my injured hand with unexpected gentleness.
"You've hurt yourself," he murmured, concern darkening his eyes. But the hand that comforted me was also the same hand that had touched Monica's, and the thought made me snatch my hand back, wincing at the sharp jolt of pain.
Without a word, I turned and fled inside, my vision blurring. I heard Leonardo's footsteps following, but I ignored him. I needed to get away, to find some salve for both the sting in my hand because it was beginning to sting more.
I stumbled into the hallway, where Helen caught sight of me immediately.
"Oh my goodness, ma'am, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, rushing over to guide me to a chair. I let her take my hand, her fussing a small comfort as she pressed a cloth to the wound and reached for the first-aid kit.
"Are you sure it won't get infected?" Leonardo's voice came from behind me, rougher now, wary.
"No, sir, it—" Helen began, but I cut her off.
"Why do you care?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, laced with all the anger and confusion swirling inside me.
Leonardo sighed, an exasperated, tired sound. "Kimberly, I'm doing my best not to take all these out on you, but you're leaving me with no choice," he said.
I sighed. "Yeah, I know," sulking over his angry actions isn't what I'm supposed to do, but I couldn't really care less.
I bit back a retort, eyes fixed on Helen as she finished bandaging my finger. Silence hung between us like a storm cloud.
"Who is Monica to you?" The question left my lips before I could second-guess it. I wasn't sure where I found the nerve, but I needed the truth more than I feared the answer.
Leonardo's jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. "She's someone you shouldn't concern yourself with," he said finally, each word like a wall slamming down between us. He turned to leave but paused in the doorway. "Eat your meals properly, Kimberly," he said over his shoulder, a quiet command.
"I won't," I muttered, knowing he wouldn't hear me. The frustration, the helplessness, it all settled like a weight in my chest.
Ma'am," Helen began. "I know I might not be in the best position to say this, but… Tomorrow is boss' mother's birthday. He's going through a lot too, and I think the best you can do is take care of yourself," she said, guiding her words like she doesn't want to offend me, but at the same time, wants to pass a message I shouldn't miss.
I blinked, Helen's words piecing together the puzzle I hadn't known I was looking at. "His mother?" I whispered.
She nodded, offering a small, tight smile as she placed a bowl of food in front of me. I knew arguing was pointless, so I took a bite, the taste bland and unappealing. It wasn't the food; it was the turmoil inside me. Without warning, tears spilled down my cheeks, uncontrollable sobs shaking my frame until Helen's worried face blurred and Enzo's rushed footsteps echoed down the hall.
—
The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed than I had been these past few weeks. I had taken sleeping pills the night before, a last-ditch attempt to quiet my restless mind. Pulling on a hoodie and some pants, I stepped outside, determined. I needed to find him.
Enzo stood guard by my door, he has been a steady fixture there these days. I caught his eye and he straightened, unreadable as always.
"Hey," I called before he finally acknowledged my presence.
I know we've not been on good terms, but can you… Can you do me a favour?" I asked, giving him my puppy eyes.
He studied me, expression hardening. "What is it?"
"Tell me where Leonardo is," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
Enzo flashed me a dangerous look before speaking.
"Boss is not in his best mood at the moment, so I advise you to stay clear."
Enzo's words unlock some craze inside me.
"Seems you've forgotten that I am your boss's wife, Enzo!" I snapped at him.
He cast me a glance and I didn't even wait for him before yelling,
"Will you tell me where he is or I'll go find him myself and tell him how disrespectful you've been to me lately!"
I heard him mumble something like, "You've got something up your sleeve." But I didn't mind because he gave me what I wanted.
"In the gym at the far end of the house," he described. And I instantly found my way there. And I met him, my husband.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, while he continued punching the dummy aggressively. Each pouch vibrated through the room.
I couldn't even reply as I watched the beads of sweat roll down his shirtless six-pack chest. muscles taut as he pounded a training dummy with raw determination. I swallowed, my heart thumping at the sight
"To talk," I said curtly, as I sat on an available bench.
"Later, Kimberly," He didn't look at me, but I saw the exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders.
I said nothing as I continued watching him. His fists were red and full of blisters, and I wondered how he still managed to punch that hard.
I scanned the room, and I saw an aid kit laying pretty beside me.
"You're injured," I said softly, holding his wrist gently, stopping him from punching further.
Without sparing me a glance, he removed them and continued.
"I never knew you could be so petty." I said and laughed.
I saw a smile form on his face, but it quickly disappeared, and I'm glad he got the joke.
"Lets get it cared for," I repeated, gently guiding him to the bench.
Surprisingly, he didn't argue, Carefully, I cleaned and wrapped his hand, each touch slow, deliberate.
"You know..." I began.
"Time heals everything, but if only you let it," I said as I wrapped the bandage around his middle finger, and I realised he's wearing our wedding ring.
The sight almost made me laugh, but I swallowed it.
"I was once there too and..."
"I don't want to hear," Leonardo cut me short, standing abruptly.
"But you're hurting yourself," I shouted, the words bouncing off the walls.
He stopped, his back to me. "That's my way of letting go."
"That's not letting go, Leonardo. It's holding on to the pain." My voice wavered, but I pressed on. "I understand more than you think."
"No, you don't," he snapped.
"I do," I insisted. "My mother is gone too."
He turned then, eyes blazing, raw. "But You didn't kill her," he whispered, and the weight of his confession left the air between us heavy and breathless.