Around us, the whispers grew louder. The other diners at the Family-friendly trattoria weren't even pretending to look away anymore.
"Wait… so which one is his actual woman?"
"Are you blind? Obviously the one he's protecting."
"Yeah, look at them. Matching everything, couple photos on their phones… it's obvious."
Their voices weren't even hushed anymore.
Their gazes shifted toward me, heavy with something worse than judgment.
Pity.
"Hey, man, enough is enough," someone at a nearby table muttered. "Another few seconds and you're going to boil her hand off."
Only then did Salvatore hesitate.
I stood there, my lips pale, my body still trembling slightly from the pain, and yet, somehow, I was smiling.
A faint, fragile smile.
I looked straight at him.
And for the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Unease.
Just for a moment.
Then he let go.
He released my hand as if nothing had happened, reached for Adriana instead, and took her by the arm.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
And just like that, he walked away with her.
Didn't look back.
Didn't say another word.