The apartment felt too large for one person.
Liza stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if holding herself together. The walls, once filled with laughter, arguments, and the hum of everyday life, now carried nothing but the faint echo of absence.
It had been three months. Three months since the divorce papers were signed. Three months since Adrian walked out with a suitcase and a look she still couldn't decipher, something between relief and regret. And yet, somehow, it felt like yesterday.
She moved toward the window, her bare feet silent against the polished floor. Palermo's evening lights flickered outside, warm and alive, indifferent to her quiet unraveling.
"Three months," she whispered, as if saying it aloud might make it feel longer. It didn't.
The first weeks had been a blur of determination. New routines. New furniture. New rules.
She told herself she was reclaiming her life, one decision at a time. She changed her haircut. Rearranged the bedroom. Even bought a coffee machine Adrian would've called "unnecessarily complicated."
But independence, she discovered, had a strange aftertaste. It wasn't bitter. It was empty.
Her phone buzzed softly on the kitchen counter. Liza turned, hesitating before picking it up. She already knew it wouldn't be him. It never was.
A message from Sofia.
"You're still coming tonight, right? No excuses this time."
Liza stared at the screen, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. Her eyes looked sharper lately, more guarded. Or maybe just more tired.
She typed slowly.
"I'll be there."
A lie, perhaps. Or a promise she wasn't sure she could keep.
The bar was louder than she expected. Music pulsed through the walls, laughter spilled across tables, and the scent of perfume and alcohol hung thick in the air.
Sofia spotted her immediately.
"There she is!" she shouted, waving her over with a grin that was far too energetic for Liza's mood.
"You made it," Sofia added, pulling her into a quick hug. "I was starting to think you'd ghost me again."
"I almost did," Liza admitted, slipping onto the stool beside her.
"That's exactly why you needed to come."
Sofia handed her a drink before she could protest.
"To new beginnings," Sofia said, raising her glass.
Liza hesitated, then clinked it lightly.
"To… something," she replied.
At first, it was easy to pretend. To laugh at the right moments. To nod along to conversations she barely followed. To exist in the rhythm of the night without thinking too much. But then she saw him. Not Adrian. Someone else.
Tall, confident, leaning casually against the bar as he spoke to a group of friends. His smile was easy, practiced. The kind of smile that suggested he knew exactly the effect he had on people. He caught her looking. Of course he did. And just like that, he was walking toward her.
"Hi," he said, stopping just close enough to be noticed, not enough to be intrusive. "I don't think we've met."
Liza tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"No," she said calmly. "We haven't."
"I'm Marco."
"Liza."
There was a brief pause, just long enough to feel intentional.
"Well, Liza," Marco continued, "can I buy you another drink? Or is that one already doing the job?"
She glanced at her glass. Still half full. Still untouched.
"You can try," she said, a faint smile forming.
Marco was charming. Effortlessly so.
He asked the right questions. Laughed at the right moments. Leaned in just enough to suggest interest without pressure.
On paper, he was exactly what Sofia would've described as "perfect." And yet… Something was missing. Later, as they stood outside the bar, the night air cooler against her skin, Marco reached for her hand.
"Can I see you again?" he asked.
Liza looked at him, really looked this time. At his eyes. His posture. The subtle confidence in his voice. She tried to imagine it. Another night. Another conversation. Another attempt to feel something real. But instead of anticipation… She felt nothing. Or worse, she felt comparison. And comparison always led back to Adrian.
"I don't think so," she said gently, pulling her hand away.
Marco blinked, surprised but not offended.
"Not even a chance?" he asked, half-smiling.
Liza shook her head.
"You seem great," she said. "Really. But I think… I'm still figuring things out."
"That's fair," he replied, stepping back slightly. "For what it's worth, I hope you find what you're looking for."
She nodded.
"Me too."
The walk home felt longer than usual.
The city had quieted, the noise of the night fading into distant echoes. Liza wrapped her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts louder than the streets.
Why wasn't it enough? Why couldn't she just move on like everyone expected her to?
She stopped outside her building, staring up at the dark windows of her apartment. It looked unfamiliar. Like a place someone else lived. Inside, the silence returned immediately. Heavy...
Liza dropped her keys onto the table and leaned against the door, closing her eyes. And for the first time in weeks, she let herself think about him. Not the arguments. Not the divorce. Not the reasons they ended. But the quiet moments. The way he used to look at her when she wasn't paying attention. The way he understood things she never said out loud. The way everything felt… effortless.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, she didn't hesitate. She picked it up instantly. But the name on the screen made her breath catch anyway.
Adrian.
One message. Just two words.
"We need to talk."
Liza stared at the screen, her heart suddenly louder than the silence around her.
Three months. No contact. And now, This?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. A hundred questions raced through her mind. Why now? What changed? And the most dangerous one of all, what if this meant something?
She didn't reply. Not immediately. Instead, she sank onto the couch, the phone still in her hand, the message glowing in the dim light.
Outside, the city moved on without her. Inside, everything had just stopped. And somewhere deep down, a part of her, the part she had tried so hard to bury, was already hoping.