Serafina
The sound of their shouting ricocheted through the warehouse like shrapnel—raw, violent, escalating so fast I could barely follow the words.
Adrian’s voice cracked with betrayal, Matteo’s with fury, and between them I was drowning, caught in a storm of pain I had created myself.
They were both moving toward each other again, rage simmering beneath their skin, fists clenched, bodies tense with the promise of a fight that would destroy more than just the room we stood in.
“STOP!” I cried, the word ripping out of me with a force I didn’t know I had. My voice echoed through the space, trembling but sharp enough to freeze them both mid-step. “Stop shouting. Stop fighting. Just—stop.”
Matteo turned to me first, chest heaving, eyes wild. Adrian’s gaze snapped toward me too, full of disbelief, heartbreak, and something dangerously close to hatred for the situation—not for me, I prayed, but I wasn’t sure anymore. The tension between them vibrated in the air like a live wire.
“Serafina,” Adrian said quietly but with a tremor that betrayed his rage, “you need to tell me right now what the hell is going on.”
“Tell us,” Matteo added, though his tone softened as he looked at me. “All of it.”
“Explain the masks,” Adrian demanded. “Explain the messages. Explain why you were here with him. Explain—God—explain why you touched him like that.”
“Explain why you ran to him,” Matteo whispered, voice breaking.
Their voices crushed me. Their expectations crushed me. Their pain crushed me.
“I will,” I said, forcing breath into my lungs. “I’ll explain everything. But you both have to shut up long enough to hear me.”
Silence fell, tense and brittle.
I took a shaky step forward, hands trembling as I pressed them to my chest. “It started because of you,” I said quietly, looking directly at Adrian.
He stiffened. “Me?”
I nodded slowly. “I noticed the nights you came home late. The way you pulled away from me. The perfume I didn’t recognize.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched at that, and Adrian’s face collapsed into shame.
“I confronted Camila,” I continued, “only to learn she had left the city. And then… then someone sent me a message saying you would become a father again.”
Adrian’s whole body jolted. “Fina—no—that wasn’t—”
“I know,” I cut in softly. “Now I know. But then? It shattered something inside me. It dragged me back to who I used to be—someone afraid of losing everything. Someone afraid I was being replaced.”
Matteo swallowed hard, his expression shifting with something like pain for me.
“So I followed you,” I whispered. “I followed you to that club.”
Adrian’s eyes widened in horror. “You—what?”
“That was my first mistake,” I confessed. “I walked into a world I should have never touched. And when I saw you… when I saw you with those women, with her… with anyone except me… something inside me cracked.”
His expression contorted, guilt erupting across his features. “Serafina, I—”
“Stop,” I said, lifting a trembling hand. “Please. Let me finish.”
Matteo stepped closer, unable to hide the devastation darkening his eyes. “That’s where I—where we—”
“Yes,” I said, turning to face him. “That’s where everything spiraled out of control.”
I swallowed hard, forcing the truth out piece by painful piece.
“I didn’t know it was you,” I said to Matteo. “I didn’t know until later. Until it was too late. Until the moment was already something I couldn’t undo.”
Adrian looked between us, horror settling into his bones. “You slept with him.”
The words slammed into me like a blow. “Not knowingly,” I whispered. “Not intentionally. It happened in the dark, where none of us recognized each other. You were drunk, Matteo. You didn’t know who I was.”
Matteo lowered his head in shame. “If I had known—”
“You didn’t,” I said. “None of you did.”
Adrian stumbled back a step, breath shaking. “So the anonymous woman I—”
He couldn’t finish.
And I couldn’t bear to confirm it aloud.
“Yes,” I whispered. “It was me.”
Adrian pressed both hands to his face as if physically trying to block out the truth. “God.”
“I tried to walk away,” I went on, voice cracking. “I tried to pretend it never happened. But something inside me wouldn’t let go. The shock, the betrayal, the confusion—it all tangled together. And I started messaging Matteo because I needed answers. I needed to understand what that night meant.”
Matteo spoke softly. “For me… it meant everything.”
Adrian twisted toward him, fury igniting again. “Stay out of this—”
“No,” Matteo snapped back. “I won’t. I love her.”
“STOP!” I screamed again, voice raw. “Just listen. Both of you.”
They went still.
“I didn’t go to Matteo because I stopped loving you,” I said to Adrian. “I went because I didn’t understand why everything was shattering. I needed to feel alive. I needed… something. And I didn’t know how to reach you anymore.”
Adrian’s voice broke as he whispered, “So you reached for him?”
Tears blurred my vision. “I didn’t mean to.”
“But you did,” he said, pain thickening every syllable. “And you kept going back.”
I looked at Matteo now, his eyes filled with desperation and longing. “And you… you kept asking for more. You pushed for answers. For truth. For a face. For a name. You made me remember parts of myself I buried. You made me feel something I thought I had killed.”
He stepped closer, voice trembling. “Because I never stopped loving you. Not for a day.”
Adrian staggered back again, raw anguish twisting his features. “How can I fight that?” he asked, voice breaking. “How can I fight a man you once loved?”
“You can’t,” Matteo whispered. “Because she still does.”
The words exploded between us like lightning.
My knees weakened. A sob tore from my throat. I clutched my arms around myself, shaking violently. “I don’t know,” I choked. “I don’t know what I feel anymore. I don’t know how to choose. I don’t know how to stop hurting both of you.”
“Choose him,” Matteo urged, voice desperate. “End this pain. End this war inside you.”
“Choose me,” Adrian said at the same time, his voice softer, wounded, pleading. “Please. Choose us. Choose the family we built.”
Their voices collided, sharp and unbearable.
“I can’t,” I cried, collapsing to my knees. “I can’t choose either of you.”
They stared at me—one with heartbreak, the other with devastation.
“I love you both,” I whispered, the confession tearing through me like a blade. “And it’s killing me.”
Silence crashed through the warehouse.
Neither man breathed.
Neither man moved.
And I realized in that moment—broken, trembling, drowning in my own truth—that the triangle wasn’t just reaching its breaking point.
It had shattered. And all three of us were standing in the wreckage.