CHAPTER 5
Nine Months Later
”Come on, Micaela, don”t fall apart now,” she mutters to herself, her voice a desperate whisper in the quiet of her apartment. Micaela de Luca Bianchi, the breakout writer for Chapter Publishing, is close to losing her mind. For weeks, she”s been wrestling with her new novel, and it”s a battle she”s losing. Words escape her, ideas feel stale, and she”s scrapped her plot twice. Crafting a single paragraph feels like an ordeal, and when she reads it back, it”s dreadful, something even a child could outdo.
Her phone buzzes, jolting her heart into a frenzy when she sees it”s Javier. She knows exactly why he”s calling—to ask for the manuscript progress she doesn”t have. Instead of answering, she lets the call go to voicemail and decides to reach out to her friends, The Lelas, desperate for their guidance.
”I can”t do this anymore, girls” Micaela confesses as soon as her friends pop up on the group video call.
Before anyone can respond, a text notification from Javier sparks a burst of anxiety within her.
”What”s going on, Ela?” Ignacia”s voice is laced with concern, using her affectionate nickname.
”My editor just called. I was supposed to have sent him part of the manuscript two weeks ago. I”ve been dodging him, and today I didn”t pick up his call. He”s furious, left a message demanding I show up at his office” Micaela rushes out the words, her breath tight with nerves.
”And what are you going to do? Why not just give him what he wants?” Valeria chimes in.
”Damn it, Val. I can”t. I haven”t written a single damn word. I”m completely blocked,” Micaela admits, her voice breaking slightly.
The Lelas fall silent, unsure how to respond to their friend who used to spin stories effortlessly and now can”t seem to write a chapter.
”Can you guys say something?” Micaela pleads.
”Maybe pray to every saint you know?” Valeria jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
”The saints can”t help me” Micaela retorts, frustration seeping through her tone.
”Okay. Have you thought about why you”re this blocked?” Valeria gets serious. ”Maybe there”s something worrying you, something that”s keeping you from focusing.”
Micaela thinks hard but then shakes her head vehemently. ”No, there”s nothing. The only thing I”m worried about is being blocked. If this continues, I won”t meet the deadline, and I could be in serious trouble with the publisher.”
”What kind of trouble?” Ignacia asks.
”I don”t know, but it”s probably big” Micaela sighs, regretting that she had skimmed the contract in her initial excitement, only making sure they were paying what they promised. Now, she”s too scared to look at it again, fearing more pressure.
”Have you tried isolating yourself? You wrote your first book holed up in your parents” house,” Ignacia suggests, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity.
”Damn it, Ignacia, I haven”t seen any of you for three weeks. I haven”t even stepped out to buy bread; everything”s delivered right to my doorstep. I”ve tried everything, and nothing works. I”m screwed. It”s been nice knowing you all,” Micaela blurts out, her voice tinged with a dramatic flair.
”Don”t be so dramatic,” both friends chime in simultaneously, their voices overlapping in a symphony of sisterly reproof.
”Talk to your editor. It”s the only thing you can do now. You”re not the first or the last writer to face this. I”m sure he”ll know how to handle this situation,” Valeria concludes, her tone practical yet soothing.
”Do you think so?” Micaela”s voice wavers, doubt coloring her words.
”Of course, he”s your editor, isn”t he? If he wants to profit from your books, he”ll need to find solutions to problems like this,” Valeria asserts confidently.
”Ignacia is right,” Valeria supports her, ”call him before things get worse.”
”Alright, thanks for your support, girls,” Micaela concedes, a hint of gratitude warming her tone.
Micaela doesn”t ponder long. A pang of desperation throbs in her chest, reminiscent of a time when she was utterly lost and unsure of her path in life. She quickly scrolls through her contacts and dials Javier before she can second-guess herself.
”Micaela, about time. You had me worried,” Javier answers, his greeting laden with concern.
”Hi, Javi. I”m sorry I haven”t called sooner,” she stammers, her nerves evident.
”That”s alright, the important thing is you called now,” he replies, his voice masking his relief.
”Listen, can we meet to talk? There”s something I need to discuss,” she asks timidly, a demeanor rarely seen in public from Micaela.
Javier is taken aback by her tone, missing the usual energy and boldness that defines her, and it makes him worry like he does for their mutual friend, Victoria.
”Are you okay? You”re scaring me,” Javier probes, trying to keep his imagination from assuming the worst.
”Yes, I”m fine, but there are some things I”d prefer to discuss in person. I wouldn”t feel comfortable talking about them over the phone,” she replies, nearly breathless.
”No problem, we can meet today at five in the afternoon. Let”s meet at the bar behind the publishing house. It”ll be more relaxed there, and you can tell me everything,” Javier suggests, his tone a blend of intrigue and conciliation.
”Perfect, Javi. I”ll be there in a few hours. And thank you, sometimes I think I”d be lost without you,” Micaela confesses, her words carrying a weight she hasn”t acknowledged in weeks.
After hanging up, Micaela feels uncharacteristically vulnerable. It had been unimaginable just a few weeks ago to seek help, and now, here she was, not just asking, but nearly pleading for it, a rewind to her more uncertain days.
”I”m here for you, gorgeous. See you later,” Javier says, his voice filled with surprise and warmth.
Micaela checks the time on her phone and realizes she still has hours before their meeting. Nerves jitter through her, making it impossible to sit still. So, she decides to take a long shower, dress comfortably, and walk to the meeting. The walk to the bar is long, but Micaela has always loved walking. It calms her, and it”s been ages since she”s taken her long walks. Ever since her novels started flying off the shelves, Micaela acquired a car, a motorcycle, and even an electric scooter, which she seldom uses because Madrid”s traffic is a nightmare. She usually moves around by subway or Uber.
“Hello, Javi. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Micaela greets as she slides into her usual seat across from Javier at the back of the dimly lit bar. The soft glow of the overhead lights casts shadows that dance across his face, highlighting his concerned frown.
“How are you, darling? Your call earlier left me quite anxious and a bit worried,” Javier replies, his gaze piercing as he searches her face for clues.
“I don’t have the manuscript” Micaela blurts out abruptly, cutting through the preamble like a knife.
Javier’s eyes widen in shock. “Are you serious?” he asks, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern.
“I wish it were a joke” Micaela admits, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Javi, but I’ve been trying to write based on that idea I sent you.”
“It was a brilliant idea” he interjects, hoping to soothe her.
“Yes, but nothing came of it. The dialogue felt flat and the characters hollow. I couldn’t even get hooked on the plot myself. I thought the problem was that if I wasn’t comfortable, I couldn’t continue, so I switched ideas twice, and the same thing happened each time,” she confesses, her voice trembling as nervousness weaves through her words.
Javier remains silent for a moment, observing her. Micaela feels a weight on her chest, stifling her breath. Her mind races with fears from being thrown out on the street to facing a lawsuit for breaching her contract. It could be the end for her.
Finally, Javier speaks, his voice calm but serious, “I assure you, I didn’t expect this, but I’m not surprised either.”
Micaela’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by his response.
“This happens often, especially after writing two novels that can’t stop selling. There’s the fear of not measuring up, of not writing another story that captivates the readers like the previous ones, or even of not maintaining the same lifestyle because the earnings are lower,” Javier explains gently, his tone affectionate yet solemn.
Deep down, she had suspected as much. It’s the only reason a writer wouldn’t answer their editor’s calls—they have nothing to show.
“Has this happened to Victoria too?” Micaela blurts out, the question escaping her lips before her brain can filter it. She immediately feels foolish and childish, but it’s too late to take it back, and Javier has heard her clearly.
“No,” he answers, barely concealing a smile. “Victoria has never experienced this, but we’re not talking about her; we’re talking about you,” Javier concludes, knowing that if he shared this conversation with Victoria, she’d gloat for the rest of the year.
”I”m mentally exhausted,” Micaela admits, massaging her temples. She”s been chained to her laptop for weeks, staring at the blinking cursor on the blank document. ”What do I do?” she asks, her voice cracking, almost pleading.
”You should have called me as soon as you felt this way, Micaela. I”m here to help,” Javier insists, his tone carrying a slight edge of reproach. ”Part of my job is to give you all the tools you need to get out of this rut that”s keeping you from writing.”
Micaela has no choice but to stand her ground and accept that he”s right, though it stings to admit her vulnerability, especially when just a few months ago, she felt unstoppable.
”I know, Javi. I can only apologize and ask for your help,” she says, her lips pursing in a small pout.
”Relax, you”ll get through this. I think I have a great idea that might just break your block once and for all.”
”Really?” she asks, a spark of hope lighting her eyes.
”Absolutely, just let me think it through a bit more. I”ll call you tomorrow. For now, go home and rest. Forget the laptop for today.”
”Thanks, Javi, you”re a lifesaver,” she says, overwhelmed by a rush of gratitude.
Javier smiles and nods, his mind racing with doubts about whether his idea will truly help Micaela or potentially complicate things further.