Alvarez's POV
The glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the kitchen floor. I barely noticed. My chest was pounding so hard it felt like the walls were pressing in, and I hated that even now, even when she was gone, my first thought was her name. Maya. I cursed under my breath and leaned against the counter, staring at the shards scattered across the tiles. A part of me wanted to leave them there, let them cut into my feet until I bled, just so the pain would make sense. But another part of me hated the mess, hated how it reminded me of what she said the night she left. "You ruin everything you touch, Alvarez. Even me." I squeezed my eyes shut, hearing her voice like it was yesterday. I wanted to scream, to tear through the silence of this apartment, but the only sound was the ringing in my head. That was when the knock came. Sharp. Impatient. I thought about ignoring it. But whoever was on the other side kept going, knocking louder until it was almost a rhythm. With a sigh that came out more like a growl, I opened the door. It was Diego. My cousin. He strolled in without asking, his messy curls damp with sweat like he had jogged all the way here. "You look like hell," he said, kicking his shoes off. "What's going on?" "What do you think?" I muttered, grabbing a towel to pick up the glass pieces. "She's gone. And apparently, I'm the reason." Diego leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He had that smug expression, the one that made me want to punch him even though he was the closest thing I had to a brother. "You're really going to let her walk away like that? Just like that?" "You don't get it." My voice was rougher than I intended. "You didn't hear the way she looked at me. Like I was... already dead to her." Diego shook his head. "No, man. That's not what I see. What I see is a guy who's too scared to fight. You used to fight for everything. What happened to you?" I slammed the towel down, glass clinking inside it. "What happened? She happened! I loved her, and it wasn't enough. Nothing I did was ever enough." For a long second, Diego didn't move. Then he said quietly, "Or maybe you just stopped listening. Women don't leave because they stop loving. They leave because they get tired of repeating themselves." That hit deeper than I wanted to admit. I turned away from him, scrubbing at the counter like it mattered. "Whatever," I muttered. "She'll be happier without me." "Is that what you believe, or what you tell yourself so you don't have to try?" Diego's tone was sharp now. "Because, Alvarez, if you let her go without a fight, then maybe you never deserved her in the first place." I spun around, my jaw clenched. "Shut the hell up, Diego." He just shrugged. "I'm not the one you're angry at. You know who it is." The truth hung heavy in the air. I hated him for being right, and I hated myself more for feeling powerless. --- Later that night, after Diego left, I found myself scrolling through my phone. Maya's name lit up in my contacts, glowing against the dark screen. I hovered over it like a coward. Call her? Text her? Beg her? No. She wouldn't answer. Instead, I opened a different chat. Sofia. Sofia was my coworker. The kind who always laughed a little too loudly at my jokes, who leaned in a little too close during meetings. Nothing ever happened between us-at least not yet-but Maya always noticed. She used to accuse me of enjoying Sofia's attention. Maybe she wasn't wrong. My fingers hesitated before typing. You up? The reply came faster than it should have. For you, always. A part of me felt sick. Another part craved the distraction. An hour later, Sofia was at my door with two bottles of cheap wine and a smile that told me she had been waiting for this moment. I let her in, even though every cell in my body screamed that I shouldn't. We drank. We laughed. She touched my arm, then my shoulder, leaned in close enough for me to smell her perfume. I should have pulled away. I didn't. Her lips brushed mine, and for a second I kissed her back. But then-Maya. The image of her crying, begging me to prove I cared, the way her hands shook when she packed her bag. It crashed over me like a wave, and I pulled away, shoving Sofia back gently but firmly. "Don't," I said, my voice breaking. "Just don't." Her face hardened. "So I'm good enough to drink with, to flirt with, but not good enough for this? You really are a mess, Alvarez." She grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. And there I was. Alone. My chest ached. My head throbbed. I thought of Maya again, and the guilt was unbearable. She would never believe that I stopped it. She would only believe what she already feared. That I had betrayed her. And maybe, in some twisted way, I had. I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. For the first time in years, I let myself cry. Not the quiet kind. The ugly kind. The kind that left me gasping for air like I was drowning. Because no matter how I spun it, one truth cut deeper than any glass on that kitchen floor. Maya was gone. And if she ever found out what almost happened tonight, she would never come back.
