Chapter 16 #2
“Do you?” he challenges gently, his tone now heavy with genuine concern. “Because this could ruin everything you’ve worked for. Not just your marriage, but the studio, your career, and your reputation.”
His words ring with undeniable truth, echoing the warnings I’ve whispered to myself countless times. The stakes are impossibly high, the consequences devastatingly real.
“I’ll handle it,” I assure him softly, conviction strengthening my voice. “Nothing more will happen.”
Greyson studies me for a long moment, as though measuring the sincerity of my promise. Finally, he nods once, turning back to his books. “Make sure it doesn’t.”
I rise from my seat, the coffee now cold and forgotten.
The weight of his words presses heavily on my chest, reminding me that my actions have repercussions far beyond my own desires.
As I step out of the office, a renewed resolve forms within me.
For Gerardo, for Greyson, and for myself, I must find the strength to end this reckless attraction to Mateo once and for all, no matter the cost.
MATEO
The hallway echoes with the usual bustling chatter of students between classes, but it barely registers in my mind.
Christmas break started yesterday, but today was the last day to grab any final materials before the school closes.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, an incessant reminder that life refuses to pause, even when all I crave is stillness.
Pulling it out, my stomach drops when I see my father’s name flashing brightly on the screen.
“Hello?” My voice wavers slightly, betraying my immediate apprehension.
“Mateo.” My father’s voice is laced with barely restrained anger, cutting straight to the core of my anxiety. “We need to talk.”
I swallow thickly, stepping into the nearest bathroom and locking myself into a stall, seeking privacy from prying ears and curious eyes. “What about?”
“Don’t play games with me,” he barks harshly. “Your mother finally told me you’re dancing again. I warned you about this. I won’t allow you to ruin your life again, or ours.”
My heart pounds painfully against my ribs, each beat punctuating his anger. “Dad, please, just listen—”
“Listen? Listen to what, Mateo? More promises? More lies? Do you even understand what you’ve put this family through?”
His words slice through me, forcing memories I’ve desperately tried to bury to surge to the surface. My vision blurs with hot tears as his anger sharpens. “I remember, Dad. Every single moment. I know what I did.”
His voice softens marginally, but the fury remains evident. “Do you, Mateo? Do you remember us finding you barely alive in that hospital bed? Your mother’s cries echoing through the halls? Do you remember your sister, Grace, sobbing because she thought she’d lost you forever?”
A painful lump forms in my throat, choking off my breath. The image of Grace’s tear-streaked face flashes vividly through my mind, her words still ringing clearly, as if she’d just spoken them: “I can’t do this anymore, Mateo. You almost died. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”
I grip the phone tightly, knuckles whitening with the strain as my voice trembles with raw desperation. “Dad, please. I’m begging you. I’m not that person anymore. I’m fighting so hard every day to prove that to you, to Mami, to Grace—”
“Grace won’t even say your name,” he interrupts bitterly. “You’ve broken something inside her that’s still not healed. Dancing is what helped put you in that hospital bed, Mateo. How can we trust that this won’t lead you straight back there?”
A tear slips down my cheek, silently betraying my crumbling resolve, and my voice cracks painfully.
“Because I need to prove to myself that I’m stronger than my mistakes.
Dancing was never the problem, Dad. It was me.
The drugs, the recklessness, the desperation to escape.
I need to dance now more than ever because it reminds me of who I am meant to be. ”
Silence stretches agonizingly on the other end, broken only by his ragged breathing. Finally, his voice returns, low and strained with raw emotion. “If you fall again, Mateo, if you spiral… I’m coming to New York myself and dragging you back home. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I whisper brokenly, the sound of his disbelief ringing in every word he says.
The call ends abruptly, leaving me trembling and leaning against the cold bathroom wall. The tears fall freely now, my heart shattering with everything I’ve put my family through. The crushing guilt I’d worked so hard to bury returns tenfold, gripping my soul mercilessly.
I slide down the wall, sinking to the cold, tiled floor, burying my face in my shaking hands. I sob quietly, alone in the sterile silence, each tear a silent plea for forgiveness I fear may never come.
Yet even in this moment of deep despair, an undeniable truth whispers softly within me. I can’t give up. I won’t. Not when I’m finally learning how to breathe again.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper as my heart incinerates to ash.
The world outside feels distant and muffled, as if I’m submerged underwater.
Each breath I take is labored and piercing as splintered glass, filled with echoes of my father’s harsh words and unrelenting accusations.
They replay incessantly, like a needle stuck on a broken record, burrowing deeper with each painful repetition.
Roger’s SUV sits idling at the curb, its glossy black surface reflecting distorted images of passing life, entirely disconnected from my reality.
I slip into the leather seat, letting the car door shut with a hollow thud.
My silence is deafening, speaking volumes to Roger, who studies me briefly through the rearview mirror.
His eyes—always kind and patient—hold quiet concern now.
“Everything alright, Mateo?” His voice is gentle, yet hesitant.
Words crowd my throat, bitter and raw, but I choke them back, unwilling to release the flood just yet.
The city outside blurs into meaningless streaks of color, vibrant but lacking clarity.
My fingers curl into my palms, nails biting into flesh, grounding me briefly.
Finally, I manage a response, forced through clenched teeth. “Just take me to Fusion Core.”
A pregnant pause hangs between us, heavy with unspoken truths. “Are you sure? It’s Christmas Eve, Mateo.”
His compassion only fuels my frustration. “I suppose Dad already told you about my dancing,” I mutter bitterly.
He doesn’t answer immediately, his silence louder than any confession. I stare into his reflected gaze, the muted sympathy confirming my suspicions. Resentment surges inside my chest, hot and merciless, further poisoning my already turbulent emotions.
When we arrive at Fusion Core, I push out of the SUV hastily, leaving Roger’s silence behind. The studio’s familiarity, its bright mirrors and polished floors, feels stark and invasive today. Instead of offering comfort, it exposes me, mirrors amplifying every painful emotion etched on my face.
Yvonne moves toward me immediately, her eyes wide with concern, her voice soft with cautious inquiry. “Mateo, what’s wrong?” Her sweet tone grates against my raw nerves, irritating rather than soothing.
“Nothing,” I growl, my voice harsh, hoping she’ll leave it at that.
She steps closer, her gaze earnest, trying to read the storm that undoubtedly darkens my features. “Please, Mateo, let me help. Just talk to me—”
“Damn it, Yvonne!” My voice erupts, loud and jagged, slicing through the air. Her face pales, the hurt blossoming instantly in her eyes. “Not everything is your business! Just back off!”
Silence descends upon the studio like a blanket, thick and suffocating, and I sense the shock reverberating through the others, the weight of their judgment pressing in from all sides.
Acidic shame trickles through the cracks of my bitter anger as I spin on my heel, pushing through the heavy doors into the twilight, the cool evening air biting at my flushed skin.
Each step away from the studio is an attempt to outrun the chaos inside me, a futile escape from a relentless internal tempest.
“Mateo!”
Vaeda’s voice reaches me, pulling me to a halt. My body tenses, poised between flight and longing, torn between isolation and the ache for her comforting presence. She approaches cautiously, like one might approach a frightened, wounded animal.
“Wait,” she whispers, her voice a soothing balm over the ripped edges of my soul. “Please talk to me.”
My throat tightens painfully, emotion swelling behind my ribs until breathing becomes nearly impossible.
I turn slowly, facing her, my defenses crumbling under the weight of her gaze.
The streetlights halo her figure, enveloping her in a soft glow, making her appear ethereal and untouchable.
A vision just beyond my grasp. She’s wearing a soft-looking cardigan, the top buttons undone to show just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, and her legs are covered by a long flowing skirt.
“Vaeda,” I manage hoarsely, my voice fractured by vulnerability. “My father found out about this, about Fusion Core. I ruined our family once, and he refuses to let me do it again. I could be dragged back to California.”
“You’re attending your meetings and going to school though, right? You haven’t slipped, have you?” Her voice trembles as I let out a harsh laugh. It’s hard to remember that Vaeda doesn’t really know me, not the true me.
She sees my technique inside her studio walls, the way my feet kiss the hardwood floors with precision and passion, but beyond that, Vaeda doesn’t know anything about me except for rumors.
“Have I slipped?” I repeat as my eyes crash with hers, fear dancing along her irises. “For drugs? No. For alcohol? Not even tempted.” I step closer to her, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggles with my proximity. “But… for you? I’m fucking drowning.”
She sucks in a breath and steps back, shaking her head as she lets loose a loud scoff. “Greyson knows.” Her words make the breath inside my chest stutter as I let them absorb. “At least he has his suspicions… because of last night.”
“Who cares?” As soon as I say the words, I realize I mean them. “Who cares if people know we’re together?”
“My husband might?” she fires back as she throws up her hands. “Not to mention, I am way too old for you.” She’s dismissing our feelings because of the years separating us?
“That’s absurd,” I retort, making her drop her arms and deflate. “Ten years is nothing.”
“Ten years is the difference between a college student and a woman with a renowned career. Ten years is the difference between living off your parents and being married and paying your own bills.” Her eyes harden as my jaw tightens, forcing me not to explode with anger.
“Ten years is the reason I’m saying this is over, but I’m still your friend if you need me. ”
“Still my friend?” I ground out, my words sounding harsh. I step closer to her and huff through a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t even know me.” Then I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving behind the woman with a husband and bills of her own while I decide to become the student she sees me as.