The drive to San Ignacio was long. Enzo and I had left San Miguel late that afternoon. We’d had too much to sort out. I still packed my things in a hurry. I didn’t bring much. Enzo said he’d buy me whatever I needed anyway.
After we talked yesterday and had dinner, he told me he’d be sleeping at VincElla Hotel tonight. I thought—foolishly, maybe—that now that we were married, he’d sleep at home. Not in the same room, of course. I knew there’d be no honeymoon. Not yet. But I still hoped a little, especially since we’d talked about it.
I’d braced myself for whatever came with being his wife. I knew my role. I’d even arranged my school transfer. Enzo said someone was handling it, and I could start at the new school on Monday. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friends. I only texted Lyca t
