3. Beatriz #2
He presses a tender kiss to my forehead before settling back against the pillows, wrapping an arm around me possessively. The gentle pattern he continues to trace against my bare skin mixed with the calming sound of his breaths finally lulls me to sleep.
When my eyes open again, the sun has risen, lighting the room in that blue haze of the cracking dawn. My head pounds like a woodpecker pecking at my skull, throbbing with each beat of my heart. Silently, carefully, I slip out of Alejandro's arms, watching him sleep for just a moment.
My eyes trace the quiet lines of his face—the curve of his lips that, even in sleep, have a hint of that knowing smirk, like he’s dreaming about something he won’t share.
There’s a faint crease at his brow, the same one that used to appear whenever he got lost in thought, and it’s almost a relief to see it hasn’t faded.
Time hasn’t touched that part of him, the part I could never quite let go.
I let my gaze drift over him, memorizing every angle, every familiar shadow.
His hair’s a mess, tangled and falling just above his closed eyes, and I resist the urge to reach out, to brush it back.
It’s that part of all this where all the alcohol I consumed has worn off, leaving only silence and the weight of everything we did. And suddenly, it’s too much.
Reality starts to claw its way back in, an uninvited reminder of why I should’ve never let this happen. I can’t stay here, can’t face him waking up with that slow recognition in his eyes that this, for him, is just another moment slipping away.
Eight years ago now, I let Alejandro take my virginity, and then without a word, he disappeared, despite swearing that this was forever.
I was never the same after that, and with each new heartbreak, pieces of me have chipped away.
There’s not much of me left, and if I let him back in, I won’t survive.
I take a breath, pulling my gaze from him, swallowing down the sharp pang in my chest. I can’t stay long enough to watch his smile fade when he sees me next to him.
So, I slip from the bed, moving as quietly as I can, gathering up the memories of last night and leaving behind the girl that wishes this could work.
I fumble through the dim light, grabbing my shirt from the floor, slipping it over my head as quickly as I can without making a sound. My hands shake as I button my jeans, the panic rising in my chest with every second I’m still here.
I don’t look back as I head for the door, heart hammering in my chest. I practically leap down the stairs, hand gripping the banister to steady myself when my foot slips, almost sending me tumbling.
I catch myself just in time, heart jolting into my throat as I stare at the bottom step, silently begging it not to creak.
The air feels thin when I reach the front door, my breath catching.
That’s when it hits me—I didn’t drive here.
He brought me. His house, his car, leaving me stranded without a way out.
The thought lands like a stone in my stomach.
I force myself to look out the front window, scanning the driveway that stretches to the iron gate at the edge of the property.
It’s tall, with those heavy cement walls fencing everything in.
And the gate? Of course, it’s locked with a code.
I can’t wait. I can’t risk him finding me here, lingering like some pathetic girl.
I need out now, any way I can manage. I spot the tree near the wall, its thick branches reaching toward the top.
Before I can second-guess myself, I’m making my way across the lawn, fingers curling around the lowest branch as I pull myself up.
I scramble up the trunk, my nails digging into the bark as I work my way toward the fence, a knot of nerves tightening in my chest.
The wall feels higher up close, daunting, but I force myself to reach out, grabbing the edge and swinging my leg over.
The cement is rough under my hands as I carefully slide down the other side, my pulse pounding as I finally hit the ground on the sidewalk outside.
I’m free, but I don’t stop—I take off, feet hitting the pavement as I put as much distance as I can between me and that house… and him.
It’s only when I reach a small cafe about half a mile away that I finally slow down, breathless and still shaky. I duck inside, ordering something just to have a reason to stay as I pull out my phone and order an Uber.
The metal chair is cold under me, grounding me just enough to keep from completely unraveling.
I sit here, staring into the half-empty cafe, feeling like I’ve escaped something, but I’m not even sure what.
I left Alejandro’s bed like it was on fire, but now, all I want to do is run back and see him one last time, catch that hint of peace in his face before he wakes up and breaks whatever little fantasy I’m holding onto.
My hands clench around my phone as my thoughts drift back to him, to that slight curve of his lips, like he knew something I didn’t.
He was different last night—gentle in a way I’d almost forgotten, careful as if he wanted to be sure I was still real.
It’s been years, but it felt like we picked up right where we left off, like the past hadn’t buried itself so deep in both of us.
But that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m right back where I was when he left, still waiting for an answer to a question I never asked.
The memory of that morning hits hard—the emptiness in my bed, my hand finding only cool sheets. And then I saw it, a folded note on my pillow, as if that was enough to explain why he was hurting me. I can still remember the exact words
"I can’t do this anymore, Beatriz. I’m sorry. It’s better this way."
That was it. No reason, no warning. Just a few hollow words, like I was someone he could just walk away from. I never stopped wondering what I’d done wrong, if there was some part of me that just wasn’t enough for him.
In the eight years since he broke my heart, I've seen him in person only once, at his father's funeral, and I didn't exactly go up to him and talk. I paid my respects to his father and left like the gates of hell would swallow me whole if I stayed any longer.
A sigh slips out before I can stop it, and I tighten my jaw, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
It’s stupid to still care this much after all this time.
I should’ve let him go long ago, moved on to something stable, something safe.
But then, I thought that was what I’d found in Martin.
And look where that got me—a man who lied to my face every day for two years, using me as a convenient cover while he played out his real relationship on the side.
How did I end up here again? Loving men who take pieces of me and leave me emptier than before?
I glance at my phone, the Uber inching closer on the map, each second pulling me further from Alejandro, from everything I tried so hard to leave behind. But sitting here, the longing feels like it’s carving a hole into me.
Maybe that’s all I’ll ever have—cheating assholes and unfinished endings. I want to believe he’s different, that last night meant something more, but I can’t take the risk of staying to find out he’s ready to leave me all over again.
My phone screen goes dark, the Uber map disappearing, but I barely notice, too tangled up in my thoughts.
The anger, the heartbreak, the hollow ache Alejandro left in me—they all feel like they’re circling, refusing to let me catch my breath.
I blink hard, gripping the edge of the cold metal table, wondering how long I can keep running from everything I feel.
Finally I gather courage, and at least send him a message. It’s not a note on the pillow, but it’s something.
Beatriz
Sorry
It doesn’t take long for Alejandro to respond, and I wonder how long ago he woke up. Was he hurt, not finding me there?
Alejandro
I told you we would talk in the morning. It’s morning now, Bee. Where are you?
My heart races as I read through his text. Do I still want to talk?
I should say no. I should block him, toss my phone in the nearest trash can, and walk out of here like I didn’t just crawl out of his bed an hour ago. Like I didn’t climb a tree and nearly twist my ankle trying to escape him.
But instead, here I am—sitting in a café with scraped palms, staring at my phone like I’ve been waiting for him all along.
Because the truth is, I have.
For eight years, I’ve lived with questions that never got answered.
Eight years of wondering why he left me, why he broke me with nothing but a note.
And no matter how many times I tell myself to move on, to let it go, I can’t.
Not when the person who still owns the biggest part of my heart is finally here, asking for a chance to explain.
A bigger part of me—louder than the pride, louder than the anger—wants to hear him out. Wants to know why.
And maybe, just maybe, wants to believe him again.
Before I can stop myself, my thumb moves, and I drop the pin.
Beatriz:
I’m here.
My heart hammers, wondering exactly what he’ll say. I’m so lost in thought, in this thread that I’m not paying attention to my surroundings. I hear a car door slam outside, and the noise jerks me back to reality. Before I can turn to look, a familiar voice cuts through the quiet cafe like a razor.
“Beatriz.”
I look up and see him—Martin, realizing that I forgot to remove him from my Life360.
His face is flushed, his mouth set in a tight line as he storms toward me, light green eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something that looks uncomfortably close to desperation.
He doesn’t waste a second. His hand latches around my wrist, unyielding as he pulls me toward him.
“Where the hell were you last night?” he growls in my ear, his grip so tight it borders on painful.
Martin has never been one to ever hurt me. Our arguments have been little to none, and only ever been behind closed doors. They were never more than a raised voice that he'd quickly apologize for.
This… this is different, and very unlike him. Or the version of him he's shown me, anyway.
I open my mouth, but the words get tangled in my throat, caught somewhere between the urge to yelp and the shock of seeing him here, of all places.
I barely register the curious stares from the other patrons as he drags me to a table, sitting us both down.
He breathes, as if reminding himself of who he has to be around me.
And just like that, my stomach sinks, realizing I don't know the man in front of me at all.