Page 35 of Daddy's Ring
"I always kept tabs on her. I just got a bit more involved since she came back." He leans back, fingers steepled in front of him like he's considering some business problem instead of discussing the woman who destroyed me. "Which was a year ago. Give or take."
A year.
An entire year Zola's been here and Stellan knew and said nothing.
"You told me to let her go." My voice sounds distant, disconnected from my body. "You said I couldn't force her to be with me. You made me promise not to look for her."
"I did." No apology in his tone. Just flat acknowledgment. "Because that's what she asked for. It was better for both of you."
"But you didn't."
Something flickers across his face. Might be guilt. Might be nothing. "I told you to let her go. I never said I would."
"Why?" The question comes out raw. "Why would you?—"
"Because somebody had to make sure she was safe." Stellan's jaw tightens. "She means the world to you, and I couldn't let something happen to her. And you couldn't watch over her." He shakes his head. "You were barely functioning. You shut down after she left. Completely shut down. Stopped eating unless I forced you. Stopped sleeping. You just—disappeared inside yourself and let Uncle Vittorio run your entire life because you didn't have anything left worth protecting."
I want to argue but I can't because he's right. I did all of that. Became a ghost wearing my own skin.
"I thought if I let you know she was okay, it would be worse," he continues. "You'd want details. You'd want to find her. And she asked you not to, so I kept it to myself and just—watched. Made sure nobody fucked with her. Made sure she was safe."
"The baby." I force the words out even though they taste like acid. "Whose—who did she?—"
"Not hers." Stellan's expression shifts into something almost gentle. Almost. "Well, hers now. But not biologically. Nia's."
The name hits me like a bullet. "Nia?"
"She died two weeks ago. Cancer." He says it clinically, matter-of-fact. But all I can think about is how much it must have devastated Zola, and I wasn't even there. "Left Zola the baby—Maeve, her name is Maeve—and the bookstore Nia opened years back. Zola moved back here when Nia got sick. Before that she was in New York."
New York. Eight years in New York. Two hours away and I never knew.
"Nia's dead." I can't process it. Can't fit this information into my brain because Nia was always there, always Zola's person, the one constant she had besides me. "And Zola has her baby."
"Yeah." Stellan watches me carefully, like I might detonate. Maybe I will. "She's been raising her alone. Running the bookstore. Quit her job at The Cracked Cask, which is where she's been for the last year."
The details pile up, each one another reminder of how much of her life I've missed. How much she built without me.
"Have you talked to her? You've been watching her. You must have?—"
"I didn't talk to her." He cuts me off, sharp. "But…I did talk to Nia. Before she died. When I knew Zola was back in Philly, I thought it was best to find out where her head was at."
My breath catches. "What did she tell you?"
Stellan's quiet for a long moment. Then: "That Zola didn't leave because she stopped loving you."
The words punch straight through whatever defenses I have left.
"She left because she thought she was destroying your life." His voice stays even, clinical. "She couldn't have kids. Uncle wanted you to marry someone else. She thought staying meant forcing you to give up everything—the family, your future, all of it. Thought she was being selfish by holding on when you deserved better."
"That's not—" I can't breathe. Can't make my lungs work. "She wrote me a letter. She said we wanted different things. That we were never right for each other."
"She lied." Stellan says it like it's obvious. Like I should have known. "She lied because she thought that's what you needed to hear to actually let her go. She thought if she told you the truth—that she was leaving to protect you—you'd never stop trying to find her."
The apartment walls feel very close. Everything feels close. The whole world shrinking down to this one terrible truth: Zola left because she loved me. Left because she thought I deservedsomething better than what she could give me. Spent years thinking she'd done the right thing while I bled out slowly thinking she didn't want me anymore.
"I don't want anything else." The words rip out of me. "I never did. I just wanted her. The only reason I ever let her go is because she asked me to but I never wanted?—"
My voice breaks. Actually breaks.
