My famous Alpha

Six months had passed since he'd walked out the door with his suitcase, and he hadn't returned. Three months was all it took for Liz to understand that her father wasn't coming home. Two months was all it took for him to put her in my place.

Denise called me several times, although the idea of ​​divorce was against her moral principles, she tried to support me and convince me to back down. But, it wasn't my decision. It was our weariness. It was the extremity of years with a dripping glass. One hour, no more. And when I saw the photo of Priyanka lying next to him in that bed on what was supposed to be a business trip, I was exhausted. I was so exhausted from everything!

Perhaps Nicholas had given me no reason. It could be that I overreacted the 99 times I accused him. But, in that single photograph there was every reason for me to freak out another 99. I wasn't actually the accused 99 times, but... There were many, declared. The undeclared accusations, the mental breakdowns that I suffered in silence, these, if they didn't reach that number, were even greater.

My mother spent a month at my house. I didn't have the strength to go on, not even for Liz, my three-year-old girl. Divorce is like mourning someone who has passed away. Really, literally, it's a death. A loss. The end, where only memories will remain. My memories with Nicholas had been turbulent.

When we met and got involved, in a casual situation of two strangers getting to know each other, I never thought I would get where I am. Me, a simple woman. Just a micro-entrepreneur, whose little bistro didn't make it to three stars. He, an international singer.

I had been in the United States for two years with a newly opened business. French and trained inThe blue cordon, adventures were the goal I pursued. And I don't know why at the time, I thought I wouldn't find them in France. Perhaps, because the neighbor's grass is always the greenest. It was another mild day with few but loyal customers. The pen in the corner of my mouth, with the tip already ruined, was a sign of a bad habit I had when I was studying. Alex was waiting tables, and I was concentrating on taking notes on a new recipe. When he interrupted me saying that “a famous person entered the restaurant”, I immediately jumped out of my chair and ran to the kitchen. I put on my apron, straightened up and walked to the table to receive Nicholas Cassano.

He paid no attention tochef present, but he wasn't rude at all. I was accompanied by other people, whom I would only find out later, who were workmates. He ordered and from then on, his figure was a constant visitor in my bistro. So we got involved bit by bit.

At the time, he was engaged to Priyanka Chopra. He was tired of being Nicholas Cassano, even though he loved his job. He was at his peak and on a tightrope. At the height of his career. At the height of the media. At the peak of popularity. I remember Priyanka walking into the bistro one day, he and I just chatting while he waited for his order, and the woman was extremely nice to me. So I walked out of there, leaving them alone and discreetly looked at both of them before going into the kitchen. He was staring at me.

I knew something was off in my heart, and I knew something was off between them. Nicholas was at the height of many women too, and the constant rumors came after the end of the engagement. My heart ached, because this was no ordinary guy. And I was an ordinary woman who couldn't handle any of that. Nicholas Cassano was on the tightrope of love, on the tightrope of the certainties of his life, on the tightrope of the media and everything in his life was a lot. It was intense.

ANDSo I decided I needed to be fully focused on my business. After all, I was there for adventures. I spent three weeks immersed in the restaurant, sleeping between the counter and the tables, all night long structuring recipes and menus. I needed a few more stars. Alex, my right hand man there, gave me all the support. On the day that the gastronomy critics came to evaluate the menu, in order to issue a note in the society columns – which could make or break my bistro –, Nicholas Cassano walked through the door of the restaurant. I didn't let myself be shaken by his presence.

It hadn't appeared in a while and I didn't know the result of the review as soon as the critics left the restaurant, allowing me to breathe, but I was satisfied with my work. Nicholas and I talked. He wished me luck, and I advised him of some difficulties I was experiencing. I should have stopped there.

When the result of the criticism came out it was my dream come true. My three stars came from that day. I was inhall of gastronomic columns. And Nicholas was supportive after that by recommending the place in short interviews. It was enough for vicious speculations of our relationship - until then non-existent - to arise and put my stars almost in the hot seat. He walked away. But it wasn't enough.

In France, the early death of my stepfather fell like a bomb on my head. I had my father, whom I loved very much and had an excellent relationship with, but my stepfather was also with me when I needed him the most, since we lived with him and my mother. With his passing, I closed the restaurant in its heyday. I was at the height of gastronomy, at the height of my career, at the height of achievement. And suddenly I found myself on the tightrope of life. I traveled to France, and stayed there for two months. Alex insisted that I not give up, insisted that I return. I tasked him with reopening the bistro, I still didn't want to go back. But, one hour I came back.

And when I returned, Nicholas was waiting for me. He showed there that he was involved in me, but that he knew he couldn't be enough for me. Scheduled tours, awards, campaigns... I told him to leave calmly, after all, I was also restructuring myself. I should have dismissed it, but I actually left the door open. I was already foolishly wrapped up in the fantasy that was Cassano in my mind.

. His family started going to the restaurant. They got to know me. They became part of a routine. And me too.

What we didn't know was that the relationship troubled by gossip, divergent dreams, jealousy, incompatibility of schedules, and a terrible phase of Cassano's stardom, should already be enough foreshadowing for us to stop. But, I was completely and madly in love with him. And he said he was in love with me, which did not make it possible for someone with a minimum of lucidity and common sense to break with the evil at its root.

Six months had passed since he'd walked out the door with his suitcase, and he hadn't returned. On the thirtieth day of that semester, the photos were boxed. No picture frames. Liz was smiling as if she were used to this new routine. I didn't cry, and I didn't smile either. Just reacted. Was necessary. I was trying to start over.

— Good morning Denise. – I greeted my ex-mother-in-law who was waiting at the door of my house.

"How are you, Katharine?"

She asked taking Liz in her lap.