His face pales. "So, that's it? Everything we've shared means nothing?"
"It means everything," I admit, unable to continue the lie. "But it’s impossible."
He looks at me like I’ve driven a knife into his heart. I suppose I have, metaphorically speaking.
"I won't give up on us," he vows. "I can't."
I hear footsteps approaching from the dining room and step further away from him.
"You must," I plead quietly. "For the baby. For yourself. I've made my choice, Cristian. Please respect it enough to let me go."
The sorrow in my heart is so profound, I can barely breathe. I force myself to turn away from Cristian's devastated expression, knowing that walking away from him is the bravest and most painful thing I've ever done.
He moves closer to me.
"This is dangerous," I warn, keeping my distance.
"More dangerous than marrying a man who would kill you if he knew the truth?"
"I'm doing what's necessary to protect our child. Why can’t you see that?"
"By sacrificing yourself?" He moves closer again. "By condemning our baby to be raised by a monster?"
"What choice do I have?" I move back several steps. "Run away and have us all hunted down like animals? All of us killed, our baby too?"
"Fight!" He slams his hand against the wall, making me jump. "You're a Dante, for God's sake. When did you become someone who just accepts her fate?"
"When I realized I was carrying a life that depends on my decisions!" I shout back, tears burning my eyes. "You think I want this? To let another man touch me? To pretend our baby isn't yours?"
His face contorts with anguish. "I can't stand it, Valentina. Knowing he'll be there every night, that he'll watch our child grow?—"
"Stop!" I press my hands to my ears.
"Then don't do it," he pleads, crossing the space between us to take my face in his hands. "Please."
The touch of his skin against mine breaks something inside me.
All the fear, all the desperation comes pouring out as his lips crash into mine.
I kiss him back with everything I have, all my love, all my sorrow, all my rage at the unfairness of our situation.
I think I hear someone, but I don’t stop. Instead, I focus one last time on the taste of him, the warmth of his hands, and the heartbreaking knowledge that this is our final goodbye.
28
CRISTIAN
I’m a fucking mess.
There are moments when I blame Valentina for it.
For making me love. For making me want a life with her and our child.
But I know she’s as much of a victim as I am.
There is no going against the rules of our world.
I know she’s right in that running would only lead to a life of always looking over our shoulder, our child never knowing a stable home.