“I can’t.” The pain in my heart intensifies with each beat.
Nico’s brows crinkle. “Why not? It’ll be fun!”
I wrap my arms around myself and take a long step back.
The puzzled look on his face adds to his charm and my distress. “Are you okay? You seem sad.” His bottom lip wobbles.
Rafa glances over his shoulder. “You good?”
“I need to use the restroom.” I bolt toward the hallway with blurred vision. I’m disoriented as I pass my bedroom and rush down the hall toward the guest bathroom my sister and I share.
So much for the antidepressants doing their job.
Tears fall in a frustrating act of betrayal. I went from suffering with never-ending numbness two months ago to feeling too much all at once now and crying more in the last few days than in my whole life.
Be patient with yourself and trust the process.
Screw the process. I don’t plan on leaving my room until—
Someone yanks on my elbow, and I gasp as I’m pulled backward.
“You better have a good reason for upsetting my kid.” Rafa’s rough voice startles me.
I recoil. “What?”
“Are you…crying?” He squints with a frown, throwing me back into the past.
I’m so sick of you feeling sorry for yourself. Oliver’s lips curled with disgust.
You can fake it for the cameras just fine, but when it comes to me, you can’t be bothered to do the bare minimum. His words were venomous, flooding my system with paralyzing self-loathing and hopelessness.
Call me when the Dahlia I fell in love with is back, he texted me later that night, only to come back a week later to let me know we were done.
“Dahlia.” Rafa’s rough voice tethers me to the present.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater. “I’m sorry for upsetting Nico. You know I would never do that on purpose.”
Rafa’s harshness melts away. “What’s wrong?”
I’m not sure what possesses me to open up to Rafa of all people, but I can’t let him think I made Nico upset for no good reason.
“I… You see…” Shit. “I’ve avoided being around kids since I found out I will never have any.”
He blinks a few times. “And then you saw Nico…”
I nod, unable to finish his sentence, mainly due to the tightness in my throat. “It’s only been a few months since I got the news—” I’m cut off by my sob.
Rafa yanks me into his arms like my dad did whenever I got hurt or was sick. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those two words until the tears start rolling down my cheeks. I’m not sure how long Rafa holds me there while I cry, but he doesn’t let go until my breathing evens out and my tears no longer soak his shirt.
“Can you…” I sniffle. “Will you please keep this between us?”
He pulls away with a frown. “No one knows?”
I shake my head. “Only Oliver and his family.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
My shoulders slump. “Thank you.”
With one last parting glance over his shoulder, Rafa leaves me standing alone in the hall.
I head to the bathroom, and the deafening click of the door shutting adds to the emptiness growing inside me.
It’s been two months, and I’m no better off than I was the day Oliver pulled the plug on our nine-year relationship. He didn’t care about our show or the life we made together. Shit. He didn’t care about anything except what he wanted. The perfect wife. A picturesque house overlooking the bay. Two kids and a dog all playing together behind a white picket fence, like some ’50s sitcom.
It was a future expected of him and one I threatened to ruin.
Unlike the grief I struggled with after I lost my dad, this is different.
I am different.
I grip the edge of the porcelain sink and force myself to face the person I’ve become.
Disheveled. Damaged. Depressed.
It’s difficult to acknowledge how far I’ve let myself go over the last few months. The broken person I’ve become is a far cry from the woman who woke up every morning full of energy, excited about choosing her outfit and doing her makeup regardless of whether she had plans to be on camera or not.
I miss the person I was. I miss her so damn much that I’m willing to put in the work to bring her back, even if it means attending extra therapy sessions and following through on difficult homework I’d rather avoid.
“You can bounce back.” My cracked whisper fills the silence. “You can prove to him and everyone else that they didn’t break you.” I speak with a stronger voice this time, letting the words sink in. “And you can fight this battle against yourself and come out stronger because of it,” I add with a sense of finality as I roll my shoulders back, fix my posture, and run my fingers through my messy hair.
From now on, I’m going to start living again. I only need to remember how.
CHAPTER FIVE
Julian
“Nice of you to show up an hour late,” my mom whispers as she corners me in the empty dining room.
I should have known her request for me to help set the table was a trap. “I was finishing up something for work.”
“On a Sunday?”
I stay quiet as I arrange the cutlery.
She rocks back and forth. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…”
“You lasted a minute longer than I expected.” I tap the face of my million-dollar watch. It’s the most expensive thing I own, all because I bet against Rafa, who believed we would become billionaires after our Dwelling app was listed on the New York Stock Exchange.
I’m glad Rafa was right all along, although I nearly cried after buying us matching watches worth more than my current house and car combined.
Ma’s lips purse. “Mijo.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Dahlia.”
“What about her?” My voice lacks any inflection.
“I know you have your differences, but can you set those aside and be nice to her while she is getting back on her feet? She’s in a fragile place right now.”
“So I’ve noticed.” It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that Dahlia is one comment away from falling apart, but I want to know why. Oliver was a pretentious ass, but he seemed to respect Dahlia, according to my mom, so why call off a successful relationship after nine years?
Ma’s voice drops as she says, “Rosa wants Dahlia to stay for a while.”
I shut my eyes.
She continues, “I’m thinking it would be nice for you to team up on a project to help get her mind off everything.”
I shake my head. “Dahlia and I don’t work well together.” Whatever the activity, we were sure to take opposing sides. Field days. Debate club. Model United Nations. If there was an opportunity to go up against each other, we rose to the occasion and duked it out every single time.
“Please think about it.” Ma presses her palms together.
I pause for three seconds. “Done. Still going to be a no.” Having Dahlia around again is hard enough after years spent avoiding her. Working with her would open myself up to a whole list of problems I have no interest revisiting in this lifetime.
Mijo: My son.
She tucks her arms into her chest. “Mijo.”