29. Sebastian
Sebastian
I tapped my fingers against the side of my beer bottle, only half-listening as Analyse went on about something Maya had done earlier that day.
I caught pieces of it—“drew a masterpiece on the wall,” “called her teacher abuela by accident,” “insisted on wearing pajamas to school because Tío Seb lets me.”
Normally, I’d be laughing, probably giving Analyse shit about how Maya clearly inherited her stubbornness. But tonight? Tonight, my mind was elsewhere. Or rather, on someone else.
“You’ve been staring at your phone for five minutes straight.” Analyse’s voice cut through my thoughts, her eyes narrowing. “Did you and Mari have a fight or something?”
I blinked, looking down at my phone like it had just appeared in my hand. “No.”
“Then why do you look like someone just gave you bad news?”
I sighed, setting my beer down on the porch railing. “She’s been weird…distant.”
Analyse frowned. “How distant?”
I hesitated before flipping my phone screen toward her, showing her the most recent message from Mariana.
Mariana
Can’t talk right now, I’m exhausted. I’ll call you later.
That had been hours ago. No call, no follow-up, and maybe I’m an overbearing asshole.
Maybe this was fine; maybe I was overthinking it.
She’s busy; she has the bakery to deal with, and then everything that is going on with her mom.
I get it. She doesn’t have to text or see me every moment of the day.
But it didn’t feel fine. I know her. This doesn’t feel like our normal.
Analyse glanced at me, then at the phone, then back at me again. “Sebastian, this is a normal message.”
“It doesn’t feel normal.”
She arched her brow. “Because she didn’t immediately drop everything to FaceTime you?”
I clenched my jaw. “That’s not-”
Analyse sighed, setting my phone down between us. “Look, I get it. You’re in that can’t eat, can’t sleep, think about her every moment kind of love phase.”
I scowled. “That’s not a phase.”
She smirked. “Exactly. Which means you gotta stop spiraling just because she’s busy, big bro. You knew she’d be stretched thin opening the bakery.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s really bothering you?”
I rubbed my hand over my face, letting out a slow breath. I knew what it was. I knew exactly why this was eating me up inside. “Last time I felt this?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “She left.”
The teasing disappeared from Analys’s face. She nodded slowly, sitting back. “So that’s what this is about.”
I swallowed hard. “She’s doing it again—pulling back. I can feel it, Lyse.”
I hated saying it out loud. I hated admitting that fear still lived inside me, that there was some part of me still waiting for history to repeat itself.
Analyse was quiet for a long moment before she sighed. “Okay, but have you actually asked her about it?”
I hesitated. Because no, I hadn’t. What the hell was I supposed to say? Hey, are you planning on running out on me again, or am I just paranoid?
“She’s got a lot on her plate,” Analyse said gently. “And yeah, I get why you’re worried. But this isn’t ten years ago. You’re not two dumbass teenagers. She’s not that same girl.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure that mattered. Maybe she wasn’t that girl anymore, but I was still the guy who watched her leave, who had my heart torn in two, who wasn’t good enough to make her stay, and I didn’t know if I could do it again.
Later that night, I parked down the street from Mariana’s place, gripping the steering wheel. I wasn’t sure what I was doing here, only that I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
What the hell is wrong with me right now? This isn’t me. I’ve never been so insecure in my life, never felt so scared of losing someone.
This isn’t how I wanted to handle whatever it is that’s going on between us. If she needed space, I had to give it to her. Even if every instinct told me to knock on her door, to make sure she was okay.
I sighed and pulled out my phone, typing a quick message instead.
Sebastian
Hey baby, are you awake?
A few minutes passed. Then -
Mariana
Yeah. Just tired.
I hesitated. Then -
Sebastian
How’s your mom today? Do you want some company?
A long pause. Long enough for doubt to creep in.
I stared at my phone, waiting for the typing bubble that never appeared. Mariana was leaving me on read. Fuck.
The pit in my stomach grew. My grip tightened around the phone, jaw clenching. This wasn’t just being busy. This was distance. And I felt it like a punch to the gut.
I exhaled sharply, shoving my phone onto the passenger seat. Waiting around wouldn’t change anything. I need to just respect Mariana’s needs. I pulled the car into drive and left, the pit in my stomach growing with every mile.