The Twisted Obsession-Chapter 332: The truth 2

When they arrived home, the atmosphere between Abby and Remo was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The tension from their earlier encounter with Mrs. Moretti clung to them like a dense fog, wrapping around their hearts and minds. Abby stole glances at Remo as they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. He hadn’t spoken since they left the ice cream parlor. The silence wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating.

Remo tossed his keys onto the table with a heavy clatter and headed toward the living room, the weight of everything they had just learned bearing down on his broad shoulders. Abby followed him quietly, her mind racing, but unsure of how to bring up the questions that gnawed at her. What had Mrs. Moretti meant? How much of what she had said was true?

She remembered Remo mentioning once, in passing, that the details surrounding Isabella’s death were blurry. At the time, she thought it was just grief—something too painful to relive. But now... after what Mrs. Moretti had said, a different possibility was clawing at the edges of Abby’s thoughts. Could Remo have forgotten what really happened?

The silence stretched on between them, becoming unbearable. Remo sat down on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His dark eyes stared at the floor, lost in thought. Abby lingered by the door, feeling unsure of how to comfort him. She could see it—how deeply this was bothering him. He was a man used to being in control, a man who kept his world tightly ordered. But now, something fragile was unraveling, and she didn’t know how to help him pick up the pieces.

"Remo..." Abby began, her voice soft, unsure. She didn’t know how to ask the questions swirling inside her, didn’t know how to make sense of the confusion.

He didn’t respond, and the silence stretched again, thick and oppressive. Then, without a word, Remo pulled his phone from his pocket. Abby watched, her heart thudding in her chest, as he scrolled through his contacts. After a moment, he pressed the call button and put the phone on speaker.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice picked up on the other end.

"Remo...thought you’d forgotten about your brother. What’s up?" Matteo’s voice came through, light and teasing, but the undercurrent of brotherly concern was evident.

Remo ignored the pleasantries. His voice was cold, clipped, and straight to the point. "Tell me, Matteo... How did Isabella die? What happened? Why can’t I remember?"

The silence that followed felt like a physical blow. Abby could hear the faint sound of Matteo exhaling on the other end of the line. His usual carefree tone was gone, replaced with something far more serious.

"Remo..." Matteo started, his voice heavy. "Why are you asking about this now?"

"Answer me," Remo demanded, his voice harder now, his jaw clenched tightly. Abby could feel the tension radiating from him, could see the way his hand tightened around the phone.

There was another pause. Matteo’s hesitation was palpable.

"Well..." Matteo sighed, clearly reluctant. "I guess we can’t hide the truth forever." His voice softened. "Izabella wasn’t as perfect as you thought, Remo. She was... she was running away."

"Running away?" Remo repeated, his tone low and dangerous.

"With her lover," Matteo continued. "You couldn’t stand the betrayal, the heartbreak. You chased her... I wasn’t there, but from what I was told, the guy lost control of the car while you were chasing them. They crashed. She died, Remo."

Abby’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the truth to be so devastating, so tangled in guilt and tragedy.

Remo’s face remained unreadable, but Abby could see the storm of emotions flickering in his dark eyes—anger, confusion, grief. She didn’t dare move, afraid that if she touched him now, he would shatter.

"You couldn’t forgive yourself," Matteo continued. "You were in shock after it happened. You started slowly forgetting things... The doctor said it was selective memory loss, a way to protect yourself from the trauma. We didn’t want to see you break apart, Remo, so we... we lied."

Remo sat there, stone-still, his face a mask of restrained emotion. Abby felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The truth hung between them, heavy and sharp, cutting through whatever remnants of peace they had left.

"Izabella..." Remo’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was laced with something dangerous. He was struggling to process the weight of it all. The love he thought he had lost, the guilt he’d carried all this time—had it all been a lie?

"We didn’t think you’d remember," Matteo said softly, his voice laced with guilt. "It was too much, Remo. You... you were so broken after it happened. We thought it was better this way."

Remo’s jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with something darker—betrayal. Abby had seen that look before—the cold, ruthless look of a man who had been wronged. It terrified her.

"I should have known," Remo said, his voice icy. "I should have known the truth."

Matteo sighed again. "Maybe. But we were just trying to protect you. I didn’t want to see you destroy yourself."

Remo didn’t respond, and the silence stretched again. Abby felt her heart aching for him—for the man she loved, who had been forced to live with a lie. She wanted to reach out, to say something, but she didn’t know how. The truth had shattered something inside him, and she wasn’t sure how—or if—it could be repaired. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"I’ll deal with this," Remo said finally, his voice low and dangerous. "Thanks, Matteo." Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, tossing the phone onto the couch.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of what they had just heard pressing down on them. Abby finally gathered the courage to speak, her voice soft but steady.

"Remo... are you okay?" she asked, her heart aching for him.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were filled with a pain that tore at her heart.

"I don’t know, Abby," he admitted, his voice raw. "I don’t know."

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