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From Unread To Cherished: My Mafia Second Chance

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 758    |    Released on: Today at 15:52

a P

yes, distorting the red dots on the

as I scrolled up the chat history, the pad of m

bing pressure, and every breath I

n five years bore that same small, red ma

always be

d the first

uld pin my messages t

voice was his sanctuary from t

ual, joking voice note

shopping or the weather kept his humanity intact whi

e had led me to believe that thi

if his replies were brief, he was sti

ly burdened by the heavy crown of

dots proclaimed the

had not truly listened to my

o the active chat history betwee

eir latest exchange fr

hist's curiosity, I tapped the voice-to-text transcript option,

, a cloying, whining complaint that the offic

m's detailed, type

referred coconut milk, and that he had already order

d replied that he would take her to an exclusive private

s executive che

omparing his meticulous care for her

had been wrestling wi

shivering uncontrollably, unable to risk a public hospi

message, begging him to send t

plied with a single,

returned

e, guarded estate, waiting for

at noon, tossing a plastic bag of

urity system had crashed and h

ed all-nighter had been a solic

n acknowledgment; it was a flat, care

ing water from the bathroom

and calmly exited the enc

very app and absentmindedly order

the bedside table just as Willi

rivulets of water trailing down the hard planes

rally pressed a slow ki

ve cedarwood body was

"Thank you for arranging a simple dinner. I have

awlessly, nause

his handsome, u

linch. I di

said, my voice a monoton

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From Unread To Cherished: My Mafia Second Chance
From Unread To Cherished: My Mafia Second Chance
“I was just trying to plug my mafia Capo boyfriend's backup phone into the charger. The screen lit up, and I accidentally swiped into his encrypted chats. There, I saw a glaring red dot next to every single voice message I had sent him over the past five years. Thousands of seconds of my deepest fears, my unwavering love, and my midnight pleas for help had been completely ignored. Yet, pinned at the very top was a chat with his female subordinate, Sophie. He had listened to every sixty-second complaint she made about her bitter coffee, replying with meticulous, tender care. Two weeks ago, I almost died from a ruptured appendix on our bathroom floor. I sent him desperate voice notes begging for a doctor, but he only typed a cold "Understood" and never came home. But tonight, on our seventh anniversary, when Sophie cried over a burst water pipe in her apartment, he slammed on the brakes. "Get out and call an Uber." He abandoned me in the pouring rain and sped off to save her. The first two years had been different. He used to listen. But somewhere along the way, he stopped. For five of the seven years we were together, I had deceived myself, thinking his quick replies meant he was just too busy running the underground city to listen. I couldn't understand how my life-and-death emergencies meant absolutely nothing to him, while her trivial office drama could move the most ruthless man in the city. Realizing his love had died long ago, my heartbreak suddenly vanished, replaced by a chilling sense of relief. I took off my diamond ring, packed a single black suitcase, and blocked him on every network. "William, we are done." I sent my final three-second message, and walked out the door to start a new life.”