Playing for Keeps: Finding Love Beyond the Lies - Chapter 47: Chapter 47

I remembered a conversation from long ago, when my closest friend had noticed the ring on my finger and questioned me.
"Emma, are you sure about this?"
"Men like Diego... they're not from our world. If his legs heal, do you really think he'll marry you?"
Back then, I couldn't bring myself to voice the answer. Even now, it stuck in my throat.
But Diego had finally given me his answer.
No. He wouldn't.
The party continued with its harmonious atmosphere—soft music playing, everyone reminiscing about old times and shared experiences.
I lowered my head and discreetly searched for "Swiss Alps" on my phone.
Low profile, the search results said. An exclusive skiing destination. Famous for its pristine slopes and luxury accommodations.
I couldn't understand half the references in their conversation—inside jokes about private jets and celebrity encounters at exclusive resorts. It was then that my friend's words truly resonated: "not from our world."
I stood up, and Diego's eyes immediately found me.
I walked back to my bedroom—though calling it "mine" was generous, as everything in it had been purchased by Diego's mother.
I called the woman who had tearfully thanked me two years ago.
Rubbing my finger where the ring had been, I asked hesitantly, "Mrs. Ferreira, that credit card you offered..."
She seemed almost relieved that I'd brought it up. Before I could even finish my sentence, she jumped in: "Six zeros, Emma. It's yours. A small token for everything you've done for Diego these past two years."
I responded with a heavy "Yes."
There wasn't much to pack. I threw my few personal belongings into a bag and tossed the clothes his mother had bought me into the trash.
With the card in my pocket, I headed for the door.
As I passed through the living room, one of Diego's friends called out: "Where are you going so late, Emma?"
Not wanting to create an awkward situation for Diego, I smiled brightly, my eyes crinkling at the corners to hide their emptiness. "Just hungry. I'm going to grab some food."
They immediately offered to order delivery, but I declined: "You guys spend hundreds on takeout. Not worth it."
Diego seemed to realize what was happening. He looked up at me, his gaze unwavering.
I waved casually to everyone in the room: "I'm off then."
At one in the morning, I left the place I'd called home for two years, with nothing but a credit card and the clothes on my back.
I supposed it was a fair trade.
As I waited for the elevator, I wondered what Diego would tell his friends tomorrow. Would he explain that the woman they'd all assumed would be his wife had actually just been playing nursemaid? Or would he craft some gentle fiction about a mutual decision to part ways?
In the end, it didn't matter. The Premier League star and the English teacher—it had been a fantasy from the start.
Outside, Porto's cobblestone streets glistened under streetlights. I'd spent two years in this beautiful coastal city and had barely seen any of it, my world narrowed to hospital corridors and Diego's apartment.
I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of a modest hotel downtown. As the car pulled away, I glanced up at the penthouse windows, half-expecting to see Diego watching me leave.
The windows were dark.
I leaned back against the seat, feeling strangely light despite everything. The indentation on my finger throbbed dully—a phantom pain that would fade with time, just like everything else.
Six zeros. Enough to start over anywhere. A generous payment for services rendered.
But I knew that no amount of money could compensate for what I'd really lost—two years of my life, and the foolish belief that devotion alone could create love where none existed.