On the eve of signing our marriage contract, I discovered my fiancé was hiding a girl. That day, I slammed the mafia marriage contract on the table and gave him two choices. Either tear up the contract, or send her to the asylum. Matteo Rossi smoked all night at the firing range, but ultimately picked up the pen and signed. Later at the wedding, a girl with scarred wrists suddenly rushed to the altar. "Matteo, my brother died for you, won't you even give me this last bit of love?" The bouquet handed to me fell to the ground, and he only left me with a hurried back. I tore off my corsage and held down the Don's hand. "If you walk out that door today, our marriage contract is void." His footsteps paused, but he still left. ... The wedding music stopped, and the guests' whispers pierced my ears like needles. I froze at the altar, staring at the empty doorway. My parents walked up and draped a coat over my shoulders. "Elena, let's go home." I nodded and followed them down the aisle. Passing the Rossi family's table, I stopped. The Donna grabbed my hand, her eyes red: "Elena, Matteo didn't mean it, don't blame him." I pulled my hand away and bowed to them. "I am sorry." After speaking, I didn't linger and left the cathedral with my parents. That night, Matteo didn't come back. The next day, neither. On the third night, he returned reeking of alcohol. He stood at the door, looking at me sitting on the sofa: "Why haven't you slept?" I didn't answer and pointed to a document on the table. "Read it." He walked over and picked up the document. It was Sofia Conti's involuntary commitment order. Because she self-harmed at the wedding and violated the Family's code, she was sent to the mob sanitarium. "You did this?" he asked coldly. "It's the rules," I said flatly. He crumpled the document and smashed it to the floor: "Elena, she is just a patient, her brother died to save me, I owe her!" "What you owe her shouldn't be paid by me." "Can't you be a little considerate of me?" I looked at him, suddenly feeling he was a stranger. We had known each other for ten years, and he had never spoken to me in this tone. I stood up and walked back to the bedroom. "Matteo, let's separate for a while." I closed the door, listening to him smashing things outside. Lying in bed, I was sleepless all night.
When I woke up the next day, Matteo was already gone. A note was left on the table. [I went to take care of Sofia.] I threw the note into the trash and went to the underground trauma center. I was the youngest neurosurgery director in the Family's medical network. Today there was a highly difficult surgery. I stood for thirteen hours. Finally walking out of the operating room, I was almost too exhausted to stand. A colleague handed me a bottle of water: "Dr. Vargas, you broke the record again." I smiled and said nothing. Returning to the office, I saw a thermos on the desk. It was delivered by Matteo. I opened it, and inside was my favorite squab soup. The soup was still warm. I put the lid back on and pushed it aside. My phone rang; it was a call from Matteo. I didn't answer. He sent another message: "Did you drink the soup? Made it just for you." I replied with one word. "Yes." He replied quickly. "I'm sorry, I was impulsive yesterday." "Elena, after all our years together, let's not fall apart over this small matter." I stared at that message and didn't reply for a long time. At night, I returned to the Manhattan penthouse we prepared as our marital home. Someone was standing at the door. It was Sofia Conti. She was wearing a hospital gown, pale-faced, and looked at me timidly: "Dr. Vargas." "Why are you here?" I asked. "Matteo brought me out." She lowered her head: "He said the sanitarium is too depressing." I took out my keys to open the door: "Do you need something?" "I... Can I come in and sit down?" "No." I refused directly. She bit her lip and tears fell: "Dr. Vargas, I know you don't like me, but I really have nowhere else to go." "Matteo said he would take care of me, just like my brother took care of him." "I just want... to have a home." I looked at her, only finding it ridiculous: "Your home shouldn't be my home." I pushed the door open to go in, preparing to close it. She suddenly stuck her foot in the doorway and tumbled inside. Her forehead hit the doorframe and immediately turned red. "Ah!" she cried out in pain. Matteo rushed out from the elevator lobby. He shoved me aside and helped Sofia up. "Sofia, are you okay?" Sofia trembled in his arms, crying and shaking her head. Matteo looked up and glared at me: "Elena, do you have to be like this?" "Did I push her?" I asked. He didn't speak, just held Sofia, his eyes full of disappointment. "She is my fallen friend's sister, he died for me, she is homeless now, and her mental state is unstable." "I just want her to stay here temporarily, is it that hard?" "This is our marital home." I reminded him. "It's just temporary!" he emphasized. I looked at him, unable to say a single word. He carried Sofia past me, walking into our home. Into our master bedroom.
Sofia moved into the master bedroom. Matteo didn't leave that night; he also stayed in the master bedroom, claiming he was "afraid something might happen to her at night." I locked myself in the guest room, listening to the low murmurs of comfort and sobbing from next door. The next day, I went to work as usual. Coming home after work, the house had changed. My favorite landscape painting in the living room was taken down and replaced with an oil painting. The orchids I grew for three years were gone, replaced by a pot of lucky bamboo. Sofia was wearing my nightgown, busy in the kitchen. Seeing me, she smiled somewhat embarrassedly. "Dr. Vargas, you're back. I made dinner, I don't know if it suits your taste." I stared at the nightgown she was wearing. That was hand-sewn for me by my mother, and I had never even brought myself to wear it once. I walked over and pointed at the painting: "Who told you to touch that?" "It... it was Matteo." She spoke timidly: "He said the landscape painting's colors were too depressing, not good for my recovery." "And the flowers?" "Also... also Matteo, he said orchids are too delicate, I wouldn't know how to keep them alive." I walked right up to her. "Take it off." She froze: "What?" "Take off the nightgown you are wearing." Her face instantly flushed red, tears welling in her eyes: "Dr. Vargas, I'm sorry, I just thought this dress was pretty... I didn't mean anything else." Matteo walked out of the bedroom. "Enough, Elena!" He walked to Sofia's side and shielded her behind him. "It's just a nightgown, is this really necessary?" "She likes it, just let her wear it. You have so many clothes, are you short of this one?" I looked at his self-righteous expression. The last bit of feeling I had for him in my heart was gone. "Matteo, make her leave." "Impossible." He answered categorically. "Fine, I'll leave." I turned and returned to my room, sorting out my treasured manuscripts and notes. I placed the manuscripts on the desk to start packing my luggage. Just as I turned around, Sofia walked in holding a glass of water. "Dr. Vargas, drink some water, don't be angry anymore." She handed the glass over. I didn't take it. Her hand tilted, and the entire glass of water splashed over my notes. The water rapidly seeped into the paper. My brain buzzed loudly. I rushed over, grabbed the notebook, and desperately soaked up the water with tissues. But it was useless. The ink was already a blurred mess. I looked up at the panicked Sofia. She kept apologizing: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Dr. Vargas, I didn't mean to..." Matteo also came in. Seeing the scene, he frowned, pulled Sofia over, and checked her hands. "Did you get burned?" Sofia shook her head, crying even harder: "Matteo, I ruined Dr. Vargas's things..." Matteo glanced at the soaked notebook. "Isn't it just a book? I'll buy you a new one." He said indifferently: "Sofia didn't do it on purpose, stop holding a grudge over it." Holding the ruined notebook, my hands were trembling. That was left to me by my mentor. It was the only copy in the world. I looked at Matteo: "You'll replace it?" "How will you replace it?" He choked on my question, looking a bit embarrassed. "Elena, stop being unreasonable." I laughed. I threw the notebook on the floor, turned around, pulled out my suitcase, and began packing. Matteo stood at the door, watching me: "What are you throwing a tantrum about now?" "I said, I'm leaving." I didn't look back. "You're running away from home over this little thing?" "Elena, can't you be a bit more mature?" I ignored him and continued packing. Sofia cried softly on the side: "It's all my fault, Matteo, don't fight with Dr. Vargas..." Matteo sighed, walking over to comfort her. "It has nothing to do with you, she is just too childish." I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. Walking past Matteo, I didn't spare him a single glance. Reaching the door, I stopped. "Matteo, this is what you chose." With that said, I pulled my suitcase and left the place I once thought would be my home. That was my first time walking out on him. Three days later, Matteo found the hotel I was staying at. He brought my favorite desserts and a beautifully wrapped notebook. "Elena, stop being angry, come home with me." "I had someone restore that book, look, it's as good as new." I opened the notebook. The handwriting inside was forged, and many of the data didn't match. I handed the notebook back to him: "Matteo, just go." The smile on his face froze: "Elena, how long are you going to keep making a scene?" "I already sent her away, what more do you want?" "Can't you stop blowing things out of proportion?" I looked at him. "I never blow things out of proportion." I closed the door. He stood outside the door for a long time, but eventually walked away.
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