A Winter Without Donna

I spent ten years by Luca Romano’s side, helping him rebuild after the shooting and seize control of the Romano family. At his lowest, even soft footsteps in the hallway kept him awake all night. Night after night, I held his trembling hands and helped him fight his fears. When he recovered, the first thing he did was cook for me: simple tomato meat-sauce spaghetti. I finished every bite. He said he’d make it for me for the rest of my life, whenever I wanted. But once Luca reclaimed the family, work swallowed him. Coming home needed advance scheduling, and I hardly saw him. On the rare nights he joined dinner, I’d ask for that pasta again. He’d rub his brow and say, “I’ve worked all day. I just want to unwind at home. We have a chef. Tell them if you want food.” I knew how strained he was, so I never mentioned it again. Then Friday, Luca’s right-hand man Mark Rossi came to the house for painkillers. Afraid Luca’s old gunshot wound flared up, I went with him — and found Luca at Selina Bruni’s apartment. In the kitchen, he’d shed his jacket, rolled up sleeves to cook pasta. Selina sat at the counter; her brother, Luca’s former deputy, died saving him. A chef stood nearby, yet Luca plated the pasta himself. He wiped a smudge of sauce off the plate, handed it to her, and leaned down to ask if it was too hot. I thought of the week before: he’d promised dinner at home. I waited four hours, six till ten, only to get a message that he was worn out and going straight to bed. So tiredness wasn’t the issue. He simply no longer wanted to cook for me. I left the painkillers there and walked away. That night, I took a London magazine job offer and messaged my lawyer. As I slipped off my wedding ring, my phone lit up. Luca texted: “I’ll come home for dinner this weekend. I’ll make your favorite pasta.” I stared long and sent no reply. He’d already made that pasta for someone else. There was no reason left for me to wait at the table. Chapter 1 I had just imported a batch of photos onto my computer when I heard a car pull into the courtyard and the engine cut off. I checked the time: one in the morning. Luca walked in, left the overhead light off, and loosened his tie before coming to stand behind me. "Mark said you came by today to bring me medicine?" "Mm," I said flatly. "You were there and didn't even bother to let me know?" Luca asked. I selected an overexposed photo and adjusted the settings. "You looked busy. I didn't want to interrupt." Luca glanced at my computer, then at the camera battery charging beside it. He seemed relieved and didn't press me any further. Perhaps he was satisfied that I hadn't seen anything. Or maybe he knew I had, but trusted me not to make a fuss. Then Luca said, "Get the heating pad out. My shoulder's killing me." He took off his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed with his right shoulder toward me. Whenever his shoulder hurt, I used to warm up the heating pad and leave painkillers by his pillow. The bedroom in the first apartment where I nursed him back to health was so narrow there wasn't room for a second bed. I'd sleep on a blanket beside him so I could hear the slightest movement. Later, we moved here, to a larger house with a new bed. Yet he still called my name at night. Whenever he called for me, I got up right away. This time, though, I merely glanced at his shoulder. His shoulder hurt, yet he'd still gone out of his way to cook for Selina. His shoulder hurt, so he had come home for me to take care of it. I picked up my phone and asked Sergio, the butler, to bring up the medical kit. Luca heard me and frowned. "Why are you calling Sergio up here?" I answered, "I've already told him. From now on, he'll take care of these things." I turned back to my screen. I still had a few spots to touch up on the photo. His eyes stayed on my face. After a moment, he tugged his shirt back up over his shoulder. "Are you really going to keep giving me the cold shoulder just because I missed dinner?" I didn't say anything. He pressed a hand to his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Selina doesn't even have everything she needs at the apartment yet, and her brother's gone. I went over to check on her. What's the big deal?" I said, "She has a chef, and people to help her get settled." Luca paused for a few seconds, as if he didn't want to argue. Then he tried again. "I'll stay home Sunday night. Is that enough? Tell me ahead of time what you want to eat, and I'll make it." He waited for my reaction. In the past, if he had made time for me like this, I would have happily agreed on the spot. I would have rescheduled shoots, turned down my coworkers' invitations, and gone home early to wait for him. Sometimes he came home long after dinner, but I never had the heart to ask why. I'd simply tell him to get some rest. Yet just hours ago, he'd been cooking for Selina at her apartment. She sat at the counter, waiting for him to bring her the pasta. Even with his shoulder hurting, he had worried that her first bite might be too hot. I'd stopped asking him to cook for me long ago, afraid of exhausting him or aggravating his old injury. But there he was, in another woman's kitchen, refusing to let even the chef carry her plate. I lowered my head and opened the next photo. I didn't want to say a word. Just then, Sergio arrived with the medical kit. Luca told him to leave it by the bed before turning to me. "I'm going to take a shower. Give me a hand with my shoulder when you're done." His tone had returned to normal, as though a Sunday dinner would be enough to put everything behind us. Once the bathroom door shut, I made no move to prepare the heating pad. I didn't even glance at the medical kit. Instead, I uploaded the edited photos to the magazine's shared drive. An email from the London office asked when I expected to arrive so they could arrange housing and hand over my assignments. I opened a flight booking page. There was a direct flight to London late Sunday night. I'd arrive Monday morning. In the past, whenever I had to travel for work, I'd always check Luca's messages before making any plans, worried he might need me while I was away. This time, I just bought the ticket. As I paid, the water in the bathroom stopped. I heard Luca call, "Irene, is the heating pad warm yet?" I typed in the verification code. The payment notification popped up right away. I saved the e-ticket. For the first time, I didn't answer him. Chapter 2 Early Saturday morning, I went to the studio. The London office had sent another email the night before, confirming that I would start working on the portrait features the following week. When my assistant came over, I was naming the last photo folder. She asked, "You're really going to London?" I nodded. "Yeah." She asked, "So this isn't just a temporary assignment?" I paused before answering. "I won't be back anytime soon." She didn't ask anything more. I went back to sorting photos. Just as I finished handing off my last project, my phone rang. It was Mark. I answered. The line was noisy. Mark asked, "Donna, where are you right now?" I told him, "The studio." Mark sounded anxious. "Donna, something's happened to the Don! A car backfired during a test drive, and he passed out. He even stopped breathing for a moment!" Before I could answer, Mark went on, "Donna, I'll send someone to pick you up. The Don needs you here." Most people would have been startled by a sound like that, nothing more. But Luca was different. For a long time after he was shot, he couldn't even handle sudden footsteps outside his door. Even after he recovered, the fear never entirely left him. For ten years, whenever something like this happened, I'd drop everything and rush to his side, no matter what I was doing. On the other end, Mark kept urging me to come. I asked, "Is the doctor on his way?" Mark answered quickly. "He's on his way." I told him, "Then let the doctor handle it." Mark seemed caught off guard. "But he was calling for you before he passed out! If he wakes up and you're not there, it'll only make things worse." I only asked, "What about Selina?" The line went silent for a second. I went on, "I'm sure he has someone with him." The moment I hung up, Luca called. I looked at his name on the screen. Well, he woke up fast today. Luca called my name. "Irene." His voice was lower than usual, and I could hear him trying to steady his breathing. "I don't care where you are. Get over here. I need to see you. Now." I watched the progress bar inch across the bottom right corner of my computer screen. "I can't. I'm working, and you have a doctor with you," I said flatly. He hadn't expected me to refuse, and he sounded irritated. "I need to see you right now! I don't need a doctor!" Of course I knew. It wasn't the pain of the gunshot wound that terrified him most. It was the helplessness he'd felt in that moment. When someone came near, he needed to hear a familiar voice first to know he was safe. When his heart raced and he couldn't breathe, he needed someone to hold his hand and tell him there was no ambush, no second bullet coming. I had done all that for ten years. In the beginning, he couldn't even trust himself. I got him through it, little by little. Later, it became a habit. Whenever something happened, he had to see me right away. I used to think that was proof he couldn't live without me. Only now did I understand. He thought of me only when he needed me. That didn't mean he cared about me. His breathing on the other end grew heavier. Then Luca said, "Irene, I feel awful right now." I gripped the phone tighter. I had heard that line too many times. Every time he said it, I would drop whatever I was doing. It didn't matter whether I was on a shoot or asleep in the middle of the night. I gave him my answer. "Luca, I have things I need to do, too. I can't just drop everything whenever you call." It was the first time I hadn't shown up the moment he needed me. After the call, I packed up the studio and went home. Sergio was just heading out when I got home. "Ms. Selina asked me to bring two meals to the hospital," he said. "One for her and one for the Don." "I see," I replied calmly. "And Sergio, from now on, you don't need to keep me updated on Luca's condition." Chapter 3 I was flying to London the next day. I packed the last of my camera gear into padded cases and checked my books and clothes again. There wasn't much to take. In ten years of marriage, Luca had bought me plenty of bags and jewelry, but I never felt any of it really belonged to me. That afternoon, Mark showed up unannounced to pick me up. "Donna, the Don wants you at the old safe house. We've just upgraded security around the property. He's reopening it to protect someone important to the family." I hadn't been to that safe house in years. After the shooting, his family feared Luca was still a target, so they hid him there. Back then, he wouldn't see anyone except me. I stayed with him in that safe house until he recovered. It held his most painful memories, along with our sweetest ones. After he took over the family again, the safe house sat empty. I'd thought I would never go back. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the old safe house. The iron gate opened, and the lights in the courtyard came on. Luca stood behind me and said, "Your things are all still here. Take whatever's still useful." I opened a drawer and found a photo of Luca and me, taken here in the safe house. Just then, Selina walked in. Two bodyguards followed her, carrying her luggage. I looked at Luca and asked him straight out, "Why is she here?" Luca answered as if it were nothing. "She's in some danger. This is the safest place. I told her to move in for now." I couldn't let that go. "You're letting her move in? Here? The place where we used to live? Since when did she become so important to the family?" Luca frowned and didn't answer. Selina glanced around. "So this is where you stayed while you were recovering?" Luca murmured his agreement. Her eyes fell on the photo in my hand, and she said to me, "What a lovely photo. You two looked so happy back then." I said nothing. She gave me a faintly challenging look. "Irene won't mind if I stay here, will she? Luca's just worried about my safety." Her eyes drifted towards the main bedroom. "Can I take this one? You said it had the best soundproofing." Luca walked over and checked the lock for her. He turned to her. "Take whichever room you want. Security here has just been updated. Don't open the door yourself at night. If you hear anything outside, press this first." He pointed to the emergency button on the wall. As I stood to the side, I remembered Luca saying the same things the first time he brought me here, years ago. Back then, he said this safe house belonged only to us. He said I was the only one allowed into his world. I gave a bitter little smile. In the end, everything had changed. I said, "From now on, you two can arrange this place however you like." Luca handed Selina the keys and told her to keep them safe. Then he added, sounding annoyed, "Irene's been giving me the cold shoulder lately. Don't mind her." By the time I got home, it was almost eleven. The confirmation letter from London lay on the table, alongside the divorce papers my lawyer had just sent over. I picked up a pen and signed my name. Chapter 4 On the morning I was leaving, I put the signed divorce agreement in an envelope and left it in Luca's study. I slipped my wedding ring in with it. When I got back to the bedroom, Luca was standing in the doorway. "Are you free tonight?" I zipped up my suitcase before asking, "What is it?" He paused, then said, "There's a family dinner tonight. You're coming. "Didn't you always want me to make you pasta? I'll make it for you tonight." I looked at him and didn't say anything. In the past, when Luca made me angry, he rarely tried to make it up to me. He would just have someone send me an expensive bag or jewelry, or free up an evening at the last minute to have dinner with me. Then he'd act as though nothing had happened. Ten years, and he was still the same. Luca went on, "Don't be late. After dinner, I'll take you for a walk." My hand froze on the handle of my suitcase. So he remembered. He had said he would come home Sunday night and have dinner with me. Last night at the safe house, the moment he handed the keys to Selina, I'd thought he had completely forgotten. But now he had brought it up himself. For a moment, I wanted to believe him one last time. At six, I loaded my luggage into the car I'd booked and headed to the Romano estate. By the time I arrived, many people were already seated at the table. Sergio pulled out the chair to Luca's left for me. "Donna, you'll sit here tonight." I saw Selina's handbag on the chair to his right. She soon came over and sat down beside him. Luca bent his head to listen to her, then swapped her wine for a glass of water. I stood there for a moment, then slowly sat down. During dinner, someone brought up the time Luca had been recovering from his injury. He said he had gone to see Luca a few times back then but had never made it past the estate gates. Holding my glass, I remembered all those nights in the safe house with the lights on until dawn. Luca smiled but said nothing. The man raised his glass. "A toast to the Donna. Without you, this family wouldn't be where it is today." I reached for my glass, but Luca's gaze passed right over me and turned to his right. Selina raised her glass and clinked it against Luca's. Laughter broke out around the table. Luca didn't explain. Selina hadn't been there with him in that safe house. She hadn't been there on any of those nights when he needed someone most. As I watched them clink glasses, I realised those ten years no longer mattered. I couldn't let the past hold me back. If Luca no longer cared, why should I cling to the memories? After a while, Luca got up and went to the kitchen. When the familiar smell of tomato meat sauce drifted out, I looked up anyway. He stood at the kitchen door with his sleeves rolled up. The chef tried to take the plate, but Luca shook his head. Then he bent his head and wiped a bit of sauce from the rim. Just like ten years ago. Back then, he couldn't put weight on his shoulder yet, and the hand holding the plate shook a little. I had wanted to take it from him, but he wouldn't let me. He said it was the first meal he had ever cooked for me, and he wanted to bring it to me himself. Luca walked over carrying the plate of pasta. I looked at him, and despite everything, my eyes stung. He had said he would make it for me tonight. Maybe what happened last night had mattered to him after all. Maybe after this meal, he would finally be willing to hear me out. I moved my water glass aside. I cleared a space for the plate. But Luca walked right past me. He didn't even slow down. He set it down in front of Selina. He didn't sit down right away. He picked up a fork and loosened the tangle of noodles. He said gently to Selina, "Careful, it's still hot." Someone nearby joked that it was rare to see Luca cook a meal himself. He laughed too, still looking at her. I lowered my head and slowly let go of the napkin I had been clenching. Sergio brought me the same dinner as everyone else. I didn't touch it. So he really had saved a seat for me. He had me sit here and watch him give another woman the meal he had promised to make only for me. Ten years. And one sentence from him had been enough to make me believe he remembered his promise. I didn't wait for dinner to end. I set down my napkin, quietly stood up, and left. No one called me back. When the driver saw me come out, he opened the car door for me, and we went straight to the airport. I had already checked in when Luca texted, "Why did you leave early?" He texted again, "Selina's afraid to go back to the safe house alone. I'll take her there first. I'll be home later to be with you." I stared at the messages for a while and didn't reply. Before the cabin door closed, I switched my phone to airplane mode. The plane began to taxi. Outside the window, the lights slipped away one by one. Luca still didn't know my wedding ring and the divorce agreement were sitting in his study. Nor did he know that the car waiting outside the estate had been booked to take me to the airport all along. And this time, I wasn't going to wait for him.