In a fit of rage, I had lost control.

The composure I’d held onto for months finally shattered. I watched Dante’s face shift, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he tried to defend himself.

“I didn’t know you were back from your trip! How could I miss the meeting with the O’Connors? I only sent Izzy to get my things because I had no other choice. Why do you have to make such a scene!”

“Elara!”

Dante looked at me with raw disappointment. “When did you become so jealous and possessive? Clinging to every little thing and blowing it out of proportion?”

“Elara, no man will ever love a woman like you!”

I really thought I couldn't cry again.

From the moment I signed the release forms to the drive home, I had maintained my dignity. I had even spent the ride replaying our entire relationship in my head.

In the end, I came to a conclusion.

I wanted a clean break.

But the tears still came at his accusation, hot and uncontrollable. They fell like pearls from a broken string.

“You’re right. No man will ever love a woman like me.”

My voice was choked with sobs.

“So, I don’t need your love either.”

I wiped my tears and turned to leave, but Isabella grabbed my hand. She started crying with me, crying even harder than I was, relentlessly apologizing.

“Elara.”

“I really didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad at Dante. I’ll leave the Family tomorrow, I’ll disappear! Dante really loves you, please don’t break his heart, okay?”

I hated Isabella’s sanctimonious, playing-the-victim act more than anything. Seeing her sobbing her heart out, my own tears stopped dead. I yanked my hand away and screamed.

“Get the hell away from me!”

Isabella stumbled and fell to the ground, looking up at me in shock.

“Elara!”

Dante rushed to help her up, his voice laced with concern. He saw a small scrape on her palm and roared at me.

“Are you insane? Apologize to her. Now!”

“In your dreams.”

“You want me to apologize?” I looked at Dante, then at Isabella, who had a flash of triumph in her eyes. I threw one last thing at them. “If you don’t agree to the divorce, I’ll see you in federal court.”

I didn’t look back. I didn't care about the sound of Isabella’s sobs or Dante’s voice, comforting her and calling me a lunatic.

Instead, I took a cab straight to my best friend’s place.

My best friend, Sofia, didn’t say a word. She just let me in, pulled a case of beer from her fridge, slammed it on the coffee table, and asked me one question.

“Is this enough?”

I looked at her, and my eyes instantly welled up again.

Sofia said nothing, just opened her arms and asked, “Hug?”

I completely broke down. I buried my face in her shoulder and wailed, crying until my voice was raw, until my whole body was shaking. I cried until I was throwing up in the bathroom, and when it was all over, I told her:

“I want a divorce!”

“I want a divorce!”

“I want Dante Moretti to go to hell!”

What is the end of love?

It’s when two people who were once willing to burn down the world for each other turn into enemies, brandishing knives at each other’s throats. It’s when the hope of turning the tomb of marriage into a garden finally gives way to the realization that even roses will wither and die.