Chapter 2

“I can’t live, if living is without you”

Without You – Badfingers (1970)

May 2018 - Monday 14th, afternoon

Thinking about my craziness over the last six months and my plan to make up to my husband, Luca, I open the apartment door and immediately feel that something is off.

Our kids are living in a different city now for university; they only come home a couple of weekends a month or during holidays. I’m used to our large, empty flat, just me and Luca. Usually, when I come home on a workday, it’s empty, just like it is today.

But tonight, I feel like I’m entering a cold, dark cave. Something is wrong, something is missing around the room, and suddenly I have a bad premonition.

A few steps inside, I see a white envelope on the living room table. It’s simply labelled “Anna,” in Luca’s handwriting. This is clearly not an anniversary gift. It must be something else, and I am terrified that I know exactly what it is. My head starts spinning; I have to grab a chair just to stay upright.

With trembling hands, I open the envelope. A sound hits my ears; a round metal object slips out, hits the table, and rolls to the floor. It’s Luca’s wedding ring! And then, inside the envelope, I find the picture I never wanted to see, the one I will never forget.

In the photo, I am on my back, naked. The bed is clearly my marital bed. My legs are wrapped around a man, and he is not Luca. The man is visibly pounding deep inside me. My face is flushed; my eyes are rolled back in my head, my mouth open in a scream. It is the vivid moment of a powerful orgasm, and it isn’t my husband who is giving it to me.

Awareness, horror, shame, and guilt all hit me at once. My mind goes black, and I fall to the floor, senseless.

May 2018 - Thursday 17th, morning

White lights and the beeping of medical equipment hit my senses as I open my eyes. I have a terrible headache, and I quickly realise I’m in a hospital room. Next to my bed is my sister, Paola and in the background I see my son and my daughter.

“Hello, Anna. Welcome back,” she says, with a worried look. “You’ve been unconscious for almost three days after you fainted at home on Monday evening. You hit your head on the floor; you’re suffering from a mild concussion.”

Slowly, confused thoughts and images return to me: an envelope, a picture, a wedding ring rolling across the floor. A panic attack hits me instantly; I can’t breathe.

“Oh my God, where is Luca? I need to speak to Luca! I need to clear everything up with him!” I try to scream, but my voice feels thin.

The beeping rhythm speeds up, and the red lights on the monitoring system turn on. I hear my sister calling for the nurses. Someone enters the room, and a needle pricks my arm. I black out again.

May 2018 - Thursday 17th, evening

I wake up again in the hospital room. I must have slept for a few hours. My headache seems to be getting a bit better. My sister is still here, right beside me. My kids are gone.

“What happened, Paola? Why am I here? Where is Luca?” I whisper. Anxiety overwhelms me, and the tears begin to flow again.

“Stay calm, Anna; it’s better for your health,” my sister advises. “On Monday morning, Luca phoned me, asking me to pick you up after work and mentioning you might need help for some days. When I asked why, he only said he was leaving for an emergency and would give more details later. I got to your place around 5:00 PM. I rang the doorbell, but there was no response, even though your car was in the garage. Using my spare key, I entered your apartment and found you on the living room floor, unresponsive and collapsed. I called an ambulance right away,” she relates.

Paola pauses, taking a long breath.

“While I was waiting for the paramedics, I might have seen the envelope, the picture, and Luca’s wedding ring on the floor. Is it what I think it is, Anna? Have you been cheating on Luca? He loves you so much, and I know how much you love him. How could you have been so stupid? Honestly, it’s a mercy that Mom and Dad passed away a few years ago; a thing this insane might have killed them now.”

I know she’s right. I have been far more than just stupid. Her words are like knives stabbing right in my heart, but they are the truth, and I deserve them.

Then, my sister’s words become even worse.

“Since Monday, none of us have been able to reach Luca, not even the kids. His phone is dead. No one has seen or heard from him. He seems to have vanished completely. If what I saw on that table is true, you’ve hurt him in the worst way possible, Anna. I hope he isn’t doing anything desperate, but we are really worried.”

I start crying uncontrollably, feeling a pain more intense than anything I have ever felt in my life.

May 2018 - Friday 18th, morning

It’s late Friday morning. I’m alone in my hospital room; my sister had to leave to take care of her own family. The doctors say that my recovery is going well. There is no permanent damage to worry about. I just need some rest for a few days, and then I can go back to my life, they say. Tomorrow, I should be allowed to go home from the hospital

Yes, but what life is left for me? I don’t even know if my husband is alive. Since my sister’s words yesterday, I’ve done nothing but cry and fall into a restless sleep.

The door opens, and Marco and Alice, my beautiful kids, walk into the room. I notice a look in their eyes I’ve never seen before. They hug me, but there’s no warmth; it feels more like an obligation, as if they’re forced to embrace a total stranger. They ask how I’m doing, but their words sound empty.

“What’s wrong, kids? Is there any bad news about your father?” I whisper.

“No, Mom,” Marco says, my eldest. “On the contrary, Dad finally contacted us last night. He is ok and called from a new phone number.”

I feel a brief wave of relief. For the first time since Monday, I hear good news. But I have to ask: “Why would your father need a new phone? What happened?”

“Mom, why the hell are you asking such a stupid question? Don’t you get it?” Alice is speaking now, in anger. “He told us everything. He emailed us a description of your affair over the last months. How could you be so cruel to him? Don’t you realise how much you’ve hurt him?”

Will the crying ever stop? I hide my face in my hands in shame. “Please, kids, don’t hate me. You are everything to me. I’ve been weak and stupid. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I will do everything to make it up to your father, even if it takes every breath I have left.”

“That won’t be so easy, Mom,” Marco says with a disheartened voice. “He’s leaving us and moving to another country. He resigned from his job and took a new one, but we don’t know where. He’ll let us know once he’s settled. He commanded that we are not allowed to give you his new number. He told us that he’s filing for divorce on the grounds of adultery. He doesn’t want to speak to you at all; only lawyers will speak. He just said it’s your choice: if you want to know something more, we can let you read the email he sent us.”

I knew my actions could bring consequences, but this is beyond my worst nightmares. A lightning strike hitting me right here and now would be much less painful

May 2018 - Saturday 19th, evening

It’s time to face reality, the bitter, empty reality I dragged myself into.

I’m home; the doctors released me from the hospital this morning.

My kids, Marco and Alice, are here with me. I know they’d rather be anywhere else, but they stay because they’re worried I might do something desperate. Luca and I raised good kids; even though they’re clearly furious with me, they still care.

I’m broken. I can’t stop crying. Everything in this house reminds me of the life I destroyed for some meaningful sex with a horrible man, whose only goal was to win a bet against my marriage just because he was annoyed about the beautiful life I described.

I need to talk to Luca, but I can’t. His instructions to the kids were absolute: they are never to give me his new number.

I try to call Claudio and Giulia, my old friends and employers, hoping they might help me reach him. When Claudio answers, his voice is cold. “Anna, I am completely disappointed in you. I trusted you with all my heart. I utterly regret the day I invited you into my office, and I feel responsible for what has happened between you and Luca. Leave us alone and forget this number; it’s better for everyone. We have nothing left to say to you.”

Another piece of my life falls away.

The only way to hear Luca’s voice is to face the unavoidable. I have to read the email he sent to the kids. They have forwarded the message to my inbox. So now, I sit on the couch with my laptop open. I asked them for privacy, promising I wouldn’t do anything crazy.

I know they are just behind the door, listening, ready to come in if they feel something is wrong. They are my guardian angels now.

I start reading.

Dear Marco and Alice,

First, I want to apologise for disappearing these last few days. I can’t imagine how worried and scared you must have been, and I will never forgive myself for remaining silent. I’m writing because what has happened between your mother and me over the past six months has destroyed my world and forced me to make a drastic decision.

I want you to know that I love you deeply. I’m sure your mother feels the same. I will always support you in every way I can. This terrible situation has nothing to do with you; it’s entirely between your mother and me. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this.

Now, I need to put as much distance as possible between myself and your mother. I need a fresh start for my mental health. I have resigned from my job and am moving abroad, where I’ve found a job opportunity that matches my skills.

I will reach out with updates as soon as I settle and find a stable place to live. I have already sent you my new phone number; call me whenever you want. I will always be here for you. Just remember you must not give my number to your mother. I do not want to speak to her, nor do I want to hear any ridiculous attempts to “make up” for or apologise for her choices, or to avoid their consequences.

You are both young adults now; there’s no reason to keep you in the dark. You have the right to know the full truth. This email will be long; take your time to read it. I want to share everything so you can understand what my life has been like over these past months and why I am starting over.

Only if your mother asks for it, you are allowed to let her read this. I will be deleting this email account after I send this; it is an untraceable, anonymous mailbox anyway. I will send my permanent contact information only to the two of you.

To make a long story short: your mother has been cheating on me for at least three months. Even worse, she allowed herself to be humiliated and abused by the worst kind of man imaginable.

I know you must be shocked, just as I was when I first found evidence of her affair.

It all started six months ago. Claudio and Giulia, our friends and her former employers, entrusted your mother with a key role in the company merger. You already know this; we discussed it many times during those first few weeks. Your mother was appointed as the personal assistant to the project manager, a man named Stefano Rossi, who came from headquarters.

I was happy for her and proud of her achievements, but when she first began talking about her new team leader, I sensed something was off. Her words about this man always felt hazy; she never looked me in the eye when his name was mentioned. I wasn’t worried yet, just surprised. I trusted your mother with all my heart. I believed she would never do anything stupid.

Week by week, I saw her change; her makeup was a bit more aggressive, her job outfit more daring, her attitude less caring. I always tried to encourage her to share her feelings, with no success.

You see, kids, in a long marriage, it’s almost inevitable to feel some attraction to other people. Sometimes it’s physical; sometimes it’s intellectual. Perfect marriages don’t exist. We all aren’t saints. But as long as it’s harmless, and once that attraction fades, it can make you treasure even more the person you chose for life.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn’t harmless. A month after the project started, I knew something was wrong. One night, I came home, and your mother nearly smothered me with hugs and kisses. I felt it clearly: she was trying to get rid of a kind of guilt for something that had happened at work. From your high school studies, you should remember what old Latin people said: ‘Excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta.’

Should I have been more demanding? Should I have pushed her more to come clean? I don’t know. I have been asking myself this for months now. But my trust in her was nearly unconditional, and now I’m sad to say, blind. You know I’ve always liked that Sting song: ‘If you love somebody, set them free.’

For a few weeks after that day, things seemed to be better. Your mother still had that strange look in her eyes when she talked about Stefano, but it was nothing truly worrying. I didn’t see any real red flags until the announcement of that team-building trip.

The morning she left for her trip, I saw her packing a dress, the sexiest outfit she owned. It was nothing like a professional work outfit. I knew that something was wrong. I begged her to leave it in the closet. I even used words I had never used before, but she made up some poor excuses and left for the train station.

I couldn’t let it go. I had to figure out what was really going on. It took less than an hour and a few phone calls to people I knew in her office to uncover the truth: your mother had lied to me. She never mentioned the party that was scheduled for that night. The dress wasn’t for work; it was for someone else. And I had a clear idea about who he was.

The next day, I confronted your mother when she came back from her trip. I felt that something was already broken, but I wanted to give her one last chance to fix it. I’ll spare you the details, kids, but that night she yelled words at me that a wife should never say to her husband.

I know she might have regretted those words the moment they left her mouth. Unfortunately, words can kill as effectively as a gun, sometimes even more so. Once you pull the trigger and hurt someone, you can’t undo the damage. It is the same with words. So, my dear kids, always be careful with your language, especially when talking to a loved one.

When I heard those words, my world was crushed. I suddenly realised I had lost your mother to another man. It felt like something was tearing my heart out and stomping it on the ground. I thought I was having a heart attack; I collapsed onto the spare bed and cried silently for hours. Yes, my kids, men and fathers aren’t supposed to cry, but the pain from your mother’s words and actions that night was overwhelming.

In the empty space remaining in my soul, something different began to grow. It was a demon, the demon of rage. It began to consume every bit of love I had for her. After that night, I cut off all real communication. I stopped showing any signs of affection. I moved permanently into the spare room. I lived out of the house as much as possible.

And I made my plan.

First, if she was having an affair, I needed evidence. Deep down, maybe I still hoped it was all a misunderstanding.

Second, I had to find out who Stefano Rossi really was. If he was the man stealing my wife, was he truly in love with her?

Third, I needed a way out. If she was cheating, we could not stay married. I wouldn’t accept it; I wouldn’t allow it.

The first step was quite easy. You know what my job involves, kids. With the help of a few trusted colleagues and good friends, it took less than a week to take control of almost every electronic device used by your mother, her team, and Stefano. I also got access to nearly all internet-connected devices in their offices.

To make my job easier, Stefano lived in a luxury penthouse apartment, rented for his weekly visits. Unfortunately for him, the bedroom had a large smart TV with an embedded webcam connected to the building’s Wi-Fi network. Taking control of it was child’s play. Cybersecurity is definitely not a matter of concern for most people! I had a live, direct feed of everything happening in that bedroom. Ironically, I discovered that your mother’s good friend and colleague, Alessia, was a welcome and participating guest when your mother wasn’t there.

Well, kids, you don’t really want to hear the details, just know that what I’ve seen and heard through those devices made me feel really sick. I couldn’t believe that was your mother in the pictures, the movies, and the audio recordings. I couldn’t even eat for some days, risking throwing up every time I had to speak to your mother at home.

I didn’t think it would be necessary; I never believed your mother could be so reckless, but I still installed micro-cameras throughout our apartment. I placed them where they were impossible to find. I intended them mostly for my legal protection. ‘Better safe than sorry’, they say.

Shamelessly, she couldn’t stop herself from following the worst cheater “cliché”. I told her I was away for a week on a business trip; actually, I was already here in the new country, settling into my new job. On Wednesday that week, she invited her lover into our home. If possible, I felt even more betrayed and defeated than ever.

The second part wasn’t difficult either. Because of my work, I know people who know people, and they have access to the most private details. I called in an old favour for a deep dive into Stefano Rossi.

It turns out he is the worst kind of predator. He comes from a wealthy family and is handsome, making him a trap for many women. He doesn’t need to work; his job is simply a hunting ground for his perverse games. He has been divorced twice, has two legitimate children with his ex-wives, and probably has a few bastard children scattered around the country. His main aim is to prey on married women; he leaves a trail of ruined marriages behind him.

His family was a mess; there was no happiness there. His parents were both serial cheaters. As a child, he often caught his mother in bed with different men, even more than one at the same time, while his father was out doing the same with every woman around, especially among his employees.

In his early twenties, he spent six months in a mental health facility.

My sources also found that in his teens, he was charged with sexual assault. His family’s money and lawyers kept his record clean, and the charges were dropped.

Maybe that’s why he hates a healthy family and a happy marriage the most. This isn’t an excuse for him or his actions, as many good people come from troubled homes. It’s just a bitter thought of how unlucky we were to cross paths with such a man. Sooner or later, he will pay for what he destroyed, and I’ll make sure of it.

And finally, my exit plan- you already know how that turned out.

Over the past three months, I have reviewed and split our finances. I’ve set aside funds for your education and to help you get settled after graduation. However, I cannot live near your mother. If I crossed paths with her again anytime soon, I might do something awful, and I have no desire to spend my future in a jail cell. It took a huge effort just to live under the same roof these last three months, knowing what I knew; I cannot endure another minute of it. My lawyers have already set up the papers to start the legal separation, preceding divorce, and I’m claiming adultery as the cause of my request.

Besides, our city is small; here, everyone knows everyone. If I stayed, I would always be the “cuckold husband,” and that shadow would hang over your lives, too. A fresh start elsewhere is the best option for everyone. Soon, I will be forgotten, and this story will fade with me. I resigned from my job, sharing only enough detail about my need for a change with the board. We negotiated a fair severance package, and I accepted a position in this new country.

So, here we are. Last Monday, sadly, on our 23rd wedding anniversary, everything was set up for my exit. After your mother left for work, I collected a few things: my books, my devices, my old vinyl records and CDs, my watches, and a couple of bags of clothes, and hit the road. I switched off my old phone and disposed of it, along with the SIM card, in the trash. After a long drive, I’m here in my new country to start my new life.

I’m looking forward to showing you my new country. I’ll book plane tickets for both of you as soon as possible.

Sorry again for the pain and chaos we’ve caused in your lives.

I love you, my kids.

Your devoted father.

The letter ends there.

Reading my husband’s direct words and seeing exactly how I managed to hurt him, to ruin my marriage, my family, and his love for me is almost more than I can bear. There is not even a trace of hope in this letter. He makes it painfully clear how he feels about me now.

I can’t blame him. With all the evidence he must have gathered over these three months, I should consider myself lucky to be safe. I can’t stop thinking about how blind I’ve been. Stupid to fall for a predator; stupid to let him humiliate me; stupid to think my husband would never find out; and most of all, stupid for not seeing how my actions were tearing Luca apart.

If Luca were here, I would throw myself at his feet, begging for forgiveness and pleading for just one more chance to show him how much I love him. I would give my life for him if I had to. But he isn’t here, and I don’t even know how to reach him. I’m afraid I will have to live with this silence forever.

The waterfall from my eyes starts again as I begin to sob, crying out loud, “I’m sorry, Luca! I’m so sorry!”

But I am crying in an empty room; Luca won’t hear me.