The Weekends He Never Gave Me Chapter 06

The Weekends He Never Gave Me Chapter 06

Dario started breaking his own rules, hunting me down on Saturdays-and Sundays as well.

Texting me first thing in the morning to ask if I’d eaten, messaging late at night to confirm I’d gotten home safe.

When I ignored him, he fired off new excuses one after another.

[A new shop opened downstairs.]

[It’s pouring out. Grab an umbrella.]

[Your car’s overdue for maintenance.]

It was just like old times, only now the roles were reversed.

Noemi watched this unfold and snickered. “Funny how the tables turn.””

I flipped my phone face-down on the table.

Noemi leaned over. “Don’t look away. Are you softening up?”

“I’m not.”

She clicked her tongue. “This is a disaster for him.”

That Saturday, we signed up for a pottery class.

It wasn’t planned. It was just that Noemi had gotten the wrong vouchers for a walk-in pottery class.

The instructor guided me through shaping a mug.

The clay spun steadily beneath my palms. Giada’s white ceramic mug suddenly surfaced in my

mind.

For the longest time, I couldn’t understand how Dario could have sat through four entire weekends with her. Only now did it sink in.

Throwing a mug was not the hard part. The hard part was choosing to stay.

Once the basic shape was formed, I set it aside.

A voice called my name from outside the glass door. “Livia.”

I lifted my head.

Dario stood out in the hallway. He had clearly spotted the half-formed mug in front of me. His face

darkened.

I stepped outside. “What are you doing here?”

“Noemi posted an Instagram Story.”

She’d posted it without realizing he could still see her stories.

Dario glanced through the window into the studio. “This is your new hobby now?”

“It’s alright, I guess.”.

“I can teach you.”

I almost laughed out loud. “You know how?”

Dario fell silent for a few seconds. “A little.”

“Learned while keeping Giada company?”

His expression tightened. “I’ve set clear boundaries with her.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

Those seven words cut deep. “How can it have nothing to do with you? I won’t spend time alone with her anymore. I won’t let her use me as a crutch, and I won’t-”

“Dario.” I cut him off. “You don’t owe me progress reports.”

“This isn’t a report.” His voice dropped, tight with frustration, “I’m changing.”

I met his gaze. “Change for yourself, then.”

“And what happens after that?”

“There is no after that.”

He froze.

I turned to head back inside, but Dario caught my wrist. “Livia, I’ve given you my weekends now.”

I stopped short. “Dario, do you still think your weekends are some kind of reward?”

His fingers slowly loosened their grip.

I kept going. “I was hurt when you shut me out on weekends-not because I craved those two days, but because I’d convinced myself you never gave that time to anyone. So I forced myself to be understanding, tried not to disturb you, counted down the days just waiting to see you.”

“Then I learned the truth. Weekends weren’t precious. I wasn’t worth making an exception for.”

Tears welled up in Dario’s eyes. “That wasn’t how I saw it back then, Livia.”

“But that is exactly what you did.”

He had no reply.

I walked back into the workshop. The instructor asked if I wanted words carved into the bottom of the mug.

I thought for a moment and nodded. The words were etched into the clay: Choose Yourself.

The day I picked up the fired mug, Dario showed up again. He saw the carving on the bottom and fell

silent for a long while.

All my things once came in matching sets: two toothbrushes, two pairs of slippers, two mugs.

He once teased me for being childish about it. “Only teenage couples obsess over matching sets.”

Now there was just one.

He reached out to touch it, but I pulled the mug away. “Don’t.”

The raw hurt in his eyes at that moment was sharper than if I’d screamed at him.

He finally understood: I wasn’t punishing him. I’d simply gotten used to being on my own.