Page 54 of Deacon

Out of it, he was protective, refined, and intensely romantic.

He could be controlling at times, but I surrendered at first, loving his machismo and chivalry.

I booked more assignments across Europe so we could spend as much time together as possible.

He introduced me to his closest circle, and eventually, we traveled to his hometown of Palermo to meet his mother in her sun-drenched villa.

Soon, I became his official partner, and strangers in public called us a stunning couple.

We found a comfortable balance: I bought a townhouse in London while he moved between Italy and the UK.

I split my calendar between London and Nashville, keeping Raff’s life grounded.

When we spent time together, we toured contemporary art museums, shopped for vintage coats in Paris, and attended private piano recitals.

Max proposed during a trip to Japan, under blooming cherry trees, and we married in a stunning courtyard venue in Milan.

Our world was glamorous, filled with gallery openings, vibrant dinner parties, and endless travel.

It felt magical, yet quiet doubts began to simmer beneath the surface.

We spent an inordinate amount of time promoting Max’s career: photo shoots, paparazzi-staged sightings, magazine spreads, and interviews.

I soon began to chafe at the amount of it, hating the spotlight and the endless poking into our private life.

Max and I argued about it, because I felt he pressured me to play the part of his beautiful, younger photographer wife.

I felt like a prop too, because he did most of the talking in front of the press.

As his shooting schedule grew demanding, I spent long hours alone in our London home, reflecting on our dynamic.

I thought about the power struggles and the incessant need for me to conform to his lifestyle.

I found some of his friends difficult to get along with, shallow, and obsessed with status.

Max also loved endless parties, dinners, and going out, spending money like water, while I was low-key and preferred quiet nights at home.

At times, Max borrowed money from me and forgot to pay it back.

We started to clash over cash flow, Raff’s discipline, my time in Nashville, and even my calls to Deacon to organize our shared custody arrangements.

Soon, the romance between us began to fade.

I put it down to us being no longer in the honeymoon period.

Yet the deeper I looked into our life, the more uneasy I became.

Was this the normal trajectory of all marriages, or had I been dazzled by his suaveness, fame, and glamour to the point of not seeing Massimo for who he truly was?

Now, lying on my cot in Kibish, thousands of miles away, I wondered why he wasn’t calling, even to check in.

Did he doubt us too?

Had he stopped caring about me?

The questions lingered, with no answers forthcoming.

The Panoramik crew and I spent two more days with the Surma people.