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The surgery took three hours. The blade had missed anything vital, but he'd lost a lot of blood.

I sank onto the cold chair outside the OR and stared at him through the glass, unconscious on the bed, and felt absolutely everything and absolutely nothing.

He had taken that knife for me.

The De Rossi family swept in. His mother saw him first, unconscious, and lost it. She turned on me.

"What is it you actually want? Does he owe you something? You vanished on the day of your own wedding. And now you're back, and he's in a hospital bed. Can you not just leave him alone?"

I didn't answer. I took it.

I hadn't explained two years ago. There was nothing to explain. But today—today, he really had saved my life.

Before she could say more, a hoarse voice came from the bed.

"Nina."

The family crowded forward. Dante's eyes stayed on me. His mother read his face, let out a breath, and quietly cleared the room. The door clicked shut.

"Was it worth it?" I asked, low.

He nodded, faint. "Worth it."

"Did mine… hurt like this too?" he whispered, still trying for the same half-smile, his face ashen.

I held his cold hand. "Don't talk. Rest."

He shook his head. His voice came slow but certain. "What you said yesterday… I thought about it all night. I destroyed this. I didn't know how to hold on to you. Today, I was going to come tell you I was sorry. But when I saw the knife come out, there was only one thing in my head: I cannot let her be hurt again."

My breath caught.

If this had been the old me, that sentence would have broken me open.

But I wasn't that woman anymore. I didn't live on the promise of a man's next sentence. My heart had already dried out a long time ago.

Dante read my silence. He still asked.

"If Isobel had never existed… would we have made it?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"Isobel was just the breaking point. Before her, you'd already spent me down to nothing."

He went quiet for a long time. Then, softly:

"Can I meet your fiancé?"

I blinked, then nodded.