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Aria spent the next two years celebrating New Year’s in Australia.
Each holiday season, Martha’s parents would visit, and Martha would practically drag Aria to their family gatherings “You’re family now, resistance is futile,” she’d insist with a grin.
As time passed, their compatible personalities and shared values transformed their roommate situation into something deeper.
That year, the 11ills family moved their entire business operation to Melbourne, putting down permanent roots. Martha constantly badgered Aria about her long–term plans.
“So are you staying or what? Because I’ve kind of already told Mom you’re doing Christmas with us forever.”
It was a question Aria had been considering carefully.
Her few close friends from Italy had all married and started families. With her parents gone and no remaining family ties, she had no real anchors there–no property, no substantial assets, nothing pulling her back.
From both personal and professional perspectives, Australia made sense.
Her career was flourishing, and she’d saved enough to buy her own place. She’d even mentioned returning Mrs. Valentini’s “go–away money,” but Martha had nearly lost her mind.
“Are you actually insane?” Martha had exclaimed, waving her arms dramatically. “You gave seven years of your life to that entitled prick who treated you like his personal nurse–slash–emotional support animal. That money? It’s the bare minimum compensation for putting up with that toxic family. Keep it and buy yourself something ridiculously
expensive.”
Aria never mentioned returning it again and focused on preparing her permanent residency application. The Hills family provided crucial support, helping her navigate the bureaucratic labyrinth.
With financial stability and a solid professional reputation, she turned down a promotion from her employer and
launched her own design studio instead.
Over the next two years, the studio expanded steadily, carving out a respected niche in the industry.
After four years, Aria successfully met all immigration requirements and received her permanent residency.
While back in Italy finalizing paperwork, she reunited with old friends she hadn’t seen since leaving.
Though time had changed everyone, their easy rapport returned instantly the moment they settled around a table at their old favorite restaurant.
Their most pressing curiosity, predictably, concerned her love life.
Aria responded with surprising candor.
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“I dated a graphic designer for a bit two years ago. Creative genius, emotional disaster–we work together occasionally. My current boyfriend and I got together in January. He’s doing his PhD at Melbourne, two years younger but doesn’t act like it…”
Her face lit up as she shared photos and stories, her happiness unmistakable.
Seeing the well–matched couple on screen, her friends exchanged silent looks of relief.
After hours of catching up, someone suddenly mentioned Alessandro.
“Did you hear? Valentini’s apparently on his deathbed.”
Aria felt a momentary jolt at the name, glancing up instinctively.
Throughout her years abroad, she’d focused on building her new life, rarely seeking news from home. Martha probably knew details but protected Aria from them, respecting her fresh start.
Alessandro’s name had become like a photograph in an old album–recognizable but disconnected from her present reality.
She’d assumed he would eventually move on, as she had.
The room fell silent as everyone watched for her reaction.
Seeing only mild surprise rather than distress, they relaxed.
“I know the basics,” her friend Sarah admitted. “I never mentioned it because… well, why ruin your day with that nonsense? But it’s pretty grim.”
“Grim is putting it mildly,” Elena added with undisguised satisfaction. “He treated you like garbage for that manipulative Sofia, had that psychotic public meltdown, and then Marcus–remember him?-literally drove into him at full speed. Now he’s permanently blind, partially paralyzed, and the cherry on top? His mother assigned Sofia as his caregiver. Divine justice if you ask me.”
After so much time, Aria had nearly forgotten Sofia’s name. Hearing about the fate of the two people who had so dramatically altered her life trajectory left her feeling oddly detached–like hearing about characters from a book she’d read long ago.
Her momentary reflection lasted only seconds before her phone vibrated.
Martha was calling.
“When are you coming home? Mom made that ridiculous blackberry jam you’re obsessed with. I’ve got three jars with your name on them.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Aria answered, smiling at how naturally “home” now meant Melbourne.
As her friends continued dissecting Alessandro’s downfall, Aria gazed out the window at the sunlight filling the streets–the same Italian sun that had shone the day she’d walked away.
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But now it felt different. She was different.
The Alessandro chapter had closed so completely that she could hear his name without a flutter of emotion. She had built something beautiful from the ashes of what he’d destroyed–a career she loved, friendships that nourished her, and a relationship based on mutual respect.
The best revenge, as it turned out, wasn’t in watching him suffer. It was in forgetting to care whether he did or not.
