Greg was with different women in the photo, kissing. One woman dancing on his lap, another kissing his neck. I recognized the long blue shirt he wore in one of the photos. He wore that the night he and Andrea were supposed to go on a date, but Alessandro coldly dismissed it. Andrea had sulked in the room all night and day, refusing to talk to anyone, including me. I felt at fault because I wasn't able to persuade him.
But now, looking at the photo, my guilt has turned into rage and deep remorse.
Why? I couldn't understand. Why did it have to be this way?
I stepped out of the car.
"Why didn't you tell her? Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
He was respiring his cigarette in quick breaths, drawing the smoke down to his lungs and releasing it impatiently, after which, he threw it to
