Chapter 26 – Analyse
Chapter Twenty-Six
ANALYSE
Iwake up before Maya this morning. The house is still and quiet, the kind of precious silence that only exists right before the sun comes up. I slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and pad to the window.
Pulling back the curtain, I look out across the town.
A fresh layer of snow blankets everything—rooftops, trees, streets.
The sunrise is just beginning to stretch its light across the horizon, casting everything in soft gold and pale pink.
It’s the kind of morning that looks like peace. Like possibility.
But inside me? It’s the opposite.
My chest feels tight. My thoughts, heavy. I press my forehead against the cool glass, hoping the chill might ground me, wake something up in me. Because no matter how beautiful it looks out there, I can’t feel it. Not really.
Outside, it’s serene. Magical even. Inside me, everything is gray. Dull. Heavy. Ugly. I wish I could match the beauty outside. I wish I could feel even a fraction of that brightness in my bones. But right now, all I feel is hollow.
The snow outside is pristine. Untouched.
Not yet ruined by muddy boots or tire tracks.
I wish I could say the same about my heart.
I wish I could say the same about Maya’s.
Because I don’t just have to worry about protecting myself.
I have to protect her, too. And I’m so fucking scared I’m going to mess this up.
I rest my forehead against the cold window and close my eyes. My breath fogs the glass, and for a second, I pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere easy. Somewhere I don’t feel this pressure clenching around my chest.
When I found out I was pregnant, I thought the scariest part would be the birth.
Or the money. Or the long nights. It wasn’t.
The scariest part has always been how much I love her.
How much she means to me. How much I would give up, walk away from, or burn to the ground if it meant she would be okay.
Nico’s goodbye…it wasn’t even a real one. It was a tantrum. He never came for Maya. Not really. He came because he thought he still had a shot at me. And when he realized he didn’t, when he saw Mateo standing there, in my kitchen, with love in his eyes, he left.
And now I’m left with the aftermath. Left with the broken pieces of a little girl who’s going to start asking questions I’m not sure how to answer.
Where’s my dad?
Why did he leave?
Did he not want me?
And worst of all: Was it my fault?
I wrap my arounds myself tightly, my fingernails digging into the sleeves of my sweater.
I’ve spent Maya’s whole life trying to protect her from that kind of pain.
From that kind of abandonment. It was easier before she met him; I was all she ever knew.
Now she’s older. Now she knows who he is.
And now I can’t stop the pain that comes with his departure.
And then there’s Mateo. The truth is, I trust Mateo. I do. I trust him with myself in ways I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone again. But this is bigger than me. It’s her, too. I press the heel of my palm into my chest, trying to steady my breath. I think of Mateo’s hand, steady on my face.
“So go ahead. Build your walls. Push me away. Slam every door you think you need to. I’ll still be here. Every time. I’ll keep showing up. Until the day you let yourself believe what I already know.
“I’ll be back, chula. I’ll always come back.”
I want to believe him so badly. But the last time I believed someone’s promise, it wasn’t just my heart that shattered—it was Maya’s future that got rewritten. The consequences of my trust don’t fall on just me anymore. And maybe that’s what’s really breaking me.
Because even though every instinct is telling me to run, to shut it all down, to build walls so high no one can get in…
I don’t want to. I want Mateo. I want him to keep showing up.
But I’m terrified that wanting him will one day hurt Maya.
And I don’t know if I could survive that kind of regret.
I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and unlock the screen. I open the group chat and fire off a message.
Analyse
Can we met up?
The three dots appear instantly.
Mari
Oh my god, Lyse. I’m so glad you reached out. I hope you’re okay. Absolutely, I’m free.
Anna
Here for you, babe! Name the time and I’ll be there.
I swallow the lump in my throat, blinking against the sting in my eyes. I don’t know what I’m going to say. But I need them. I need my girls.
Analyse
The Rolling Pin? In an hour? I’ll get a sitter for Maya.
Mari
Done. Love you.
Anna
We’ve got you. Always.
I walk into The Rolling Pin and immediately inhale the comforting scent of pastelillos, warm sugar, and fresh coffee.
Mari looks up from the corner booth, already standing before I can blink.
Anna’s beside her, both of them bundled in thick winter sweaters.
Mari rushes toward me and wraps her arms around me so tightly that my knees nearly buckle.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers into my hair.
My throat burns. I nod, but I can’t speak.
Anna joins in seconds later, arms looping around both of us. “We’ve got you,” she says softly.
When we finally pull back, I manage a small smile. “I’m sorry for the dramatic text.”
“Stop,” Mari says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You don’t ever have to apologize for needing us.”
We slide into the booth, Mari on my left, Anna on my right, our knees bumping under the table.
The table already has a plate filled with meat and cheese pastelillos, three cups of café con leche, and flan.
I grab a pastelillo and tear off a corner, but the knot in my stomach makes it hard to swallow.
The flakiness melts on my tongue, the savory meat and cheese warm and familiar, but nothing quiets the storm churning inside me.
Mari pours more coffee into our mugs from the carafe she brought over and gives me a pointed look. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.” My voice comes out thin, like it’s been wrung out overnight. “I can’t stop thinking.”
Anna places a hand on my leg. “Then think out loud. Let us carry some of it with you.”
I blink down at the pastelillo in my hand, the golden crumbs scattered on the plate below. I don’t even know where to begin.
“I keep thinking about what Maya’s going to ask,” I whisper. “What am I supposed to tell her?”
Mari leans forward. “You don’t have to tell her everything, Lyse. She’s still little.”
“She’s not stupid,” I say. “She’s not going to forget he was here. She’s not going to forget he asked to see her and then disappeared again. She’s going to ask why he left.”
Anna frowns. “Then you tell her the truth. That he made a mistake. That he didn’t know how to stay. But that you did. You stayed. You always stayed.”
“It’s not just that,” I murmur. “It’s not just Nico.”
They both go quiet, waiting.
“I’m scared of letting someone else in again,” I admit. “Of trusting someone with my heart. Of trusting someone with Maya’s.”
Mari reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. “Of course, you’re scared. You’re a mom. You’ve been through hell and still show up every single day with love to give.”
Anna leans in, voice softer now. “But, Lyse…Mateo isn’t Nico.”
“I know that,” I whisper. “I do. It’s just—there’s something else.”
They both freeze, eyes locking in on mine.
“I need to tell you something. And I need you to not freak out.”
Mari raises a brow. “You know that’s never worked on us, right?”
Anna folds her arms. “Spill.”
I suck in a breath. “Mateo and I…we weren’t actually together when we first said we were.”
They blink. Simultaneously.
“We started out fake dating.”
Mari’s mouth drops open. “I’m sorry…what?”
Anna gasps. “Like a Hallmark movie fake dating?”
“Yes,” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Like a damn rom-com. Nico came back. Mateo offered to help me keep him at arm’s length, and it just kind of…snowballed.”
Mari stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Wait, so that whole thing—pumpkin patch, Christmas mistletoe, movie nights—that was all fake?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s the thing. At first, it was just a favor. A setup. But somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling fake. It became…real. Too real. And that’s what scares me the most.”
Anna exhales, sitting back. “Holy shit. That’s why you’ve been so hesitant. You didn’t just fall for him…you weren’t supposed to fall for him.”
Tears sting my eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t mean for it to. But he was just…there. For everything. For me. For Maya. And he didn’t treat it like an act. Not even for a second.”
Mari’s expression softens. “Because it wasn’t. Not for him.”
I look down, heart thudding. “I think I’m in love with him.”
Anna lets out a choked laugh. “Ya think?”
“I’m serious,” I say, voice cracking. “And that’s what’s breaking me. Because I know how it feels to be left. I know how it feels to be the only standing in the wreckage. And If I left him in and it falls apart…Maya’s heart breaks with mine. I’m not just scared for me. I’m scared for her.”
Mari nods, brushing a tear from her own cheek. “That’s fair, Lyse. It is. But you’re not that twenty-four-year-old anymore, trying to survive on your own. You’ve built a life. You’ve built a village. And Mateo is part of that village. He chose you long before he ever said it out loud.”
Anna places her hand over mine. “So you get to be scared. But don’t let that fear keep you from something real. Don’t teach Maya that love is something you run from just because it might hurt.”
“She’s already lost one parent,” I whisper. “I just want to protect her.”
“You are,” Mari says. “Every time you show her what love looks like, you are.”
By the time I pull up to Hilda’s house, my eyes feel dry and tight from holding in everything I didn’t say. I take a deep breath, paste on a soft smile, and walk up the steps. Hilda opens the door before I even knock, Maya already bundled up in her puffy pink coat, hat slightly crooked.
“She’s all yours,” Hilda says with a warm smile. “And full of cookies.”
Maya twirls dramatically on the porch. “I had three!”
I laugh. “I’m shocked you didn’t negotiate for five.”
“I tried,” she says with a grin, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I thank Hilda and promise to bring her some pastelillos from The Rolling Pin later in the week before helping Maya in the car.
She climbs into her booster seat, humming to herself until she notices the two large boxes beside her, one covered in a blue snowflake patterned wrapping paper, the other a plain white storage bin.
“What are these for, Mami?” she asks, poking the edge of the wrapping paper curiously.
“They’re for the school,” I say, buckling her in.
“But it’s Sunday,” she points out, confusion furrowing her little brows.
I start the engine and glance at her in the rearview mirror. “I know. But I want to redecorate the classroom before my kids come back from winter break. I thought I’d get a head start.”
She tilts her head. “Why? Did they not like the decorations before?”
I smile. “It’s not that. I just want them to come back to something fresh. Something fun. New year, new energy.”
Maya seems to think about that for a second, then nods solemnly. “That makes sense. Can I help?”
“Of course, you can.”
She looks out the window for a beat, then her voice softens. “Are we going to see Mateo today?”
The question lands like a soft knock on my chest. I keep my eyes on the road. “Not today, mamita.”
“Oh,” she says quietly. “Okay.”
The silence stretches for a few seconds.
Then she asks, “But maybe soon?”
I swallow. “Maybe,” I whisper.