Fiorensia had never imagined that betrayal could be so exhausting, so consuming. It was not just a realization, it was a physical ache, a twisting pain in her chest as she stood there, frozen, watching the man she had loved for years whisper sweet words to another woman.
Traitor! Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the doorway, unable to look away. The way Ricardo held her, his fingers brushed gently against the woman's cheek, and his lips curled into a tender smile. It was all the same.
The same set of gestures as when he had once held Fiorensia in the privacy of their chambers, when he had traced her features with unspoken devotion, when he had whispered words only meant for her.
