Chapter 93

The morning arrived far too quickly for all of them. For Amber, it felt as though the night had barely begun before the first rays of light crept into the sky. She was already prepared—her bags packed days ago, her plans set, and her heart braced for the journey ahead. This had been her fixed leaving date for weeks, a milestone she had counted down to with equal parts dread and determination.

But everything had changed. She wasn’t leaving alone anymore. Luca and Nico were coming with her, and that meant there was still so much left to do. Amber knew better than to hope Luca might have packed for himself. No that would be a miracle.

At five o’clock, Amber slipped out of bed quietly, the house still cloaked in silence. She moved to Nico’s room, where her son lay sleeping peacefully in his little bed. His tiny form was bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that brought tears to her eyes. For a moment, she simply stood there, watching him, the pure innocence of his slumber filling her with a sense of wonder and relief she hadn’t felt in years.

As she began packing his things—his favorite toys, his tiny clothes, the blanket he refused to sleep without—a giddy kind of happiness bubbled up inside her. For the first time in what felt like forever, fate wasn’t working against her. She wouldn’t have to leave him behind. She wouldn’t have to endure the heart-wrenching ache of separation, wondering each day how he was doing, if he was happy, if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Amber would have her baby with her as she faced the biggest battle of her life. The emotional strength that gave her was indescribable, a buoy that kept her afloat in the storm of her reality.

And then there was Luca.

Amber’s hands faltered for a moment as she folded one of Nico’s shirts, her mind wandering to her husband. Or, rather, the man who used to be her husband. She gulped involuntarily, the thought of him stirring a storm of conflicting emotions in her chest.

She had worked so hard to build a barrier around herself where Luca was concerned, an impenetrable wall meant to shield her from the pain he could cause. It was a wall fortified by years of hurt, designed to block out the pain from his news, either of his engagement to another women, or his pictures with her at the glittering parties that were often circulating the internet. The only thing that had helped her had been a wall of indifference.

For a long time, that wall had held strong. But now, with every hour she spent near him, every fleeting moment they shared, she could feel it beginning to crumble. The cracks were spreading, the defenses she’d relied on for so long starting to give way.

The last time she had allowed herself to feel anything for Luca, it had nearly destroyed her. She had ended up a shadow of herself, emotionally wrecked and struggling to piece herself back together. She had sworn she would never let herself go through that again.

Amber descended the stairs quietly, careful not to disturb the tranquil silence of the early morning. In the kitchen, she brewed two mugs of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the air. One for herself, and one for Luca—who, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, would still be fast asleep.

She let out a small sigh as she headed toward his room, her resolve steeling with each step. Luca, despite his sharp mind and commanding presence in the boardroom, was utterly hopeless when it came to the simple task of packing. She recalled the infamous Miami trip when, for the first time in his life, neither she nor the housekeeper had packed his suitcase. He’d arrived at his destination with six impeccably tailored suits—and not a single pair of underwear apart from the one he’d been wearing.

Amber had laughed until tears ran down her cheeks when he’d FaceTimed her in outrage, calling her heartless for allowing such a travesty to occur. “Never again,” he’d declared dramatically. “You’re never making me pack my own bags again.”

The memory brought a reluctant smile to her lips as she pushed open the door to his room. Luca lay sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his long frame, his dark hair mussed from sleep. She placed the coffee mug on his bedside table and gently called his name.

“Luca,” she said softly, her voice low but firm. “Time to wake up.”

He didn’t stir. Typical.

She tried again, a little louder this time, but before she could finish, Luca reached out with the reflexes of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. He caught her wrist, pulling her off balance and into the bed with him. Amber let out a startled gasp, her body stiffening as he wrapped himself around her, his grip warm and secure.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes still closed. “This is nice—waking me up with coffee like a dutiful, loving wife.”

The word “wife” hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck, her breath catching in her throat. Wife. She hadn’t been his wife for three years.

Her mind raced, unbidden thoughts swarming like angry bees. Who had he pulled into bed like this in the last three years? Who had he kissed every morning while she wasn’t there?

The answer came to her all too quickly, and it offered no comfort—only a sharp pang of hurt that she tried to bury deep within.

Her lips curled into a bitter smile, the sarcasm dripping from her words before she could stop herself. “If you’re that desperate for a quick fuck, you should’ve kept your engagement with Carlotta intact. Or has your mother already put her in a chastity belt, like she did with me? Leaving you destitute?”

Luca’s reaction was immediate. He froze, the lighthearted warmth in his embrace evaporating as her words registered. She felt his sharp intake of breath, his arms slackening around her as if she’d struck him.

Amber didn’t wait for him to recover. She seized the opportunity to untangle herself from his hold, slipping off the bed and putting distance between them.

She wasn’t proud of what she’d said. The bitterness, the venom—it wasn’t who she wanted to be. But Luca had a way of making her feel vulnerable, of stripping away the carefully constructed armor she wore to protect herself. And when that happened, the old wounds reopened, bleeding truths she hadn’t meant to voice.

Still, it wasn’t a lie.

Amber had been struggling under the weight of new motherhood, caught in the throes of a post-partum slump that seemed to stretch endlessly. Communication between her and Luca had withered, strained by exhaustion, misunderstandings, and the relentless interference of his family. The vibrant connection they had once shared—long nights of laughter, intimate dinners, and stolen moments of bliss—had vanished. Their world now revolved entirely around the baby, leaving little space for anything or anyone else. 

Amber had thrown herself into caring for Nico, consumed by the demands of feeding, changing, and soothing their child. It had been necessary, but it also left her depleted, with no energy to spare for her husband or herself. Luca, meanwhile, had seemed distant, frustrated in ways she couldn’t entirely understand but could always feel. 

Yet, there was one part of their relationship that had endured. One place where they hadn’t drifted apart: the bedroom. 

It was in those quiet hours of the night, when Nico was finally asleep, that Luca would come to her, his presence charged with a determination that didn’t falter. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness, no walls between them in those moments. He would reach for her, tearing away the barriers between them as easily as he removed her clothes. 

In his arms, the strain of their faltering connection dissolved, replaced by a raw and undeniable intimacy. Amber’s breath hitched every time his hands roamed over her, igniting sensations that reminded her of what they had been, what they still could be. He touched her like a man starved, like he needed her to breathe. And when his lips found hers, it wasn’t just physical; it was a desperate kind of communication, a plea for understanding, a declaration of something unspoken. 

Her cries filled the room as he moved against her, relentless and consumed. The bed would rock against the wall, the force of their passion a testament to everything they couldn’t put into words. He whispered her name hoarsely as he reached his peak, his voice raw and filled with an intensity that made her believe—if only for a moment—that nothing else mattered but this. 

In those hours, Amber felt like his wife again, not just in name but in spirit. The intimacy they shared felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the love that had once defined them. It was the one place where their connection still burned brightly, untouched by the chaos of their waking lives. 

And every time, as she lay beside him afterward, her body spent and her heart full, she would cling to that hope. Surely, no man could make love to a woman with such passion, such need, if he felt nothing for her. Surely, this was proof that their relationship could be saved, that somewhere beneath the rubble of their crumbling marriage, their love still survived. 

Amber never got an answer to her doubts about their love. Instead, what followed was an unraveling of their bond orchestrated, whether consciously or not, by Luca’s mother, Giulia. The week had already been a nightmare. Baby Nico had developed colic, leaving him irritable and inconsolable for days. His cries echoed through the house at all hours, a relentless reminder of how fragile and demanding new life could be. 

Amber was exhausted—beyond exhausted. She had been running herself ragged trying to comfort Nico, barely sleeping, barely eating, and constantly second-guessing her every move as a mother. Twice that week, she had broken down crying in front of Luca, her tears raw and unrestrained, spilling over from the reservoir of stress and fatigue she had been trying to suppress. He had stood there each time, looking shell-shocked, his usual confidence replaced with a baffled helplessness that only deepened the chasm between them. 

It wasn’t that there wasn’t help available. A part-time nanny came in for a few hours each day, and yet Amber couldn’t bring herself to let go. Every time Nico cried, she felt compelled to hold him, soothe him, assure herself that she was doing her job as a mother. Rest felt like an impossible luxury, and as the days wore on, the cracks in her resolve began to show. 

By Sunday, Amber was barely functioning. Luca, as was his tradition, prepared to attend the weekly family dinner at his mother’s house. He hadn’t invited her, but she hadn’t expected him to. Their unspoken agreement not to involve her in his family affairs had become another quiet wound in their marriage. She didn’t protest his departure, either. All she wanted was to sleep—a few uninterrupted hours of peace once Nico finally dozed off. 

She had fallen into a deep nap that afternoon, the kind that felt like sinking into a void, only to be jolted awake by the muffled commotion of movement in their bedroom. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming, but the sounds persisted: the shuffle of drawers opening, the quiet thud of luggage being placed on the floor, and muted voices just outside the door. 

Amber sat up, her heart pounding. She walked into the bedroom to find Luca packing his belongings into a large suitcase. At first, her foggy mind assumed he was preparing for another work trip, but then she noticed how much he was packing—his suits, his shoes, even the small personal items he usually left behind. 

Her stomach tightened, dread creeping in. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but the words stuck in her throat until finally, they came out in a shaky whisper. “What’s going on?” 

Luca froze for a moment before looking at her, his expression a mixture of discomfort and guilt. “I talked to Ma,” he said, his voice measured, like he was trying not to upset her. “About… everything. Your breakdowns, your stress. She was really worried. She suggested I speak to a doctor, and he agreed that maybe I should give you some space.” 

Amber’s mind reeled. Space? That word felt like a knife to her chest. She wanted to scream, to tell him how ridiculous this all was, to beg him not to do this. She didn’t need space—she needed him. She needed his support, his presence, his understanding. But as her eyes darted toward the door, she caught sight of Giulia’s shadow lingering just outside, undoubtedly listening to every word. 

Her throat tightened as Luca continued, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. “I realized I’ve been selfish, Amber. You’ve just had a baby. You’re exhausted. Maybe I’ve been demanding too much from you—physically, emotionally. I thought it might be best if I stayed in the guest bedroom for a while, at least until you’re feeling better.” 

Amber couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even cry. She just stood there, watching as the man who had once been her partner, her anchor, packed his things and prepared to leave their shared space. 

Before she could find her voice, the sound of giggling interrupted them. Two voices—Chiara, Luca’s sister, and another unmistakable one: Carlotta. Amber stiffened. 

“Ma, we’re going to be late for the movie!” Chiara’s voice called from downstairs, followed by Carlotta’s laughter.  “We are leaving.”

Amber felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Carlotta, the woman who had once been Luca’s lover, was here. She wasn’t a stranger to the house, having attended formal events in the past, but this was different. This wasn’t an event or a celebration. This was a casual visit—on the very day her husband was moving out of their bedroom. 

Her mind raced. Was this really about her mental health, her struggles as a new mother? Or was this just an excuse, a way for Luca to start detaching himself from her under the guise of concern? 

Amber said nothing as he finished packing. She couldn’t. She simply watched in silence, numb and hollow, as he walked out of the room with his suitcase in tow. That night, for the first time since they had married, she lay alone in their bed, the emptiness beside her as suffocating as the weight on her chest. 

She didn’t sleep. She cried instead, silent tears that soaked her pillow and blurred her vision. It was perhaps the first crack in their already fragile marriage, a warning that her time in it was running out.
The Stormy Reclamation: A Marriage in Ruins
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