Chapter Six – The Words He Never Learned
696 Words
Inigo didn’t plan to go to her.
He just found himself walking.
Past the pier. Past the chapel. Past every place that knew his footsteps too well. The town was heavy with late-afternoon heat, the kind that pressed against the skin and demanded reckoning.
He stopped at Lola Cora’s gate and stood there longer than he should have, fingers curling into the rusted bars as if they might hold him upright.
The door opened before he knocked.
Lola Cora looked at him for a long moment. Not unkindly. Not gently either.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“I know.”
She stepped aside. “Then come in. Don’t bleed on my plants.”
Amelia was in the sala, papers spread across the table, phone pressed to her ear. She was calm. Focused. Whole in a way that made something in Inigo ache sharply.
She looked up.
The air shifted.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quietly, ending the call. “Inigo.”
He swallowed. “Amelia.”
Lola Cora disappeared into the kitchen, but her presence lingered like a warning.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Inigo said.
“No,” Amelia agreed. “You shouldn’t.”
The honesty landed harder than anger would have.
“I heard you went to the barangay,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I did.” Her voice was steady. “I’m done hiding.”
He nodded, shame rising thick in his throat. “I don’t know how you do that.”
She studied him. “You don’t try.”
That was true.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. The words came out rough, unfinished. “For pulling away. For speaking like… like I was something you needed to be protected from.”
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide what I can survive.”
“I know.” His voice broke. “That’s why I’m here.”
He took a step closer, then stopped—careful, always careful.
“I don’t sleep,” he said. “I don’t breathe right. I see her every time the water changes color. And when I’m near you—” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll take something from you I can’t give back.”
Amelia crossed her arms. Not defensive. Grounded.
“So you push me away,” she said. “To feel noble.”
“Yes.”
The word came out like surrender.
“I don’t need saving,” she continued. “And I won’t be someone’s almost. Or someone’s punishment.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m not asking you to stay. Or to wait. I’m asking—”
His voice faltered.
He lowered himself onto the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
“Please,” he said. “Don’t disappear because of me.”
The room went quiet.
Amelia felt the word please echo through her chest. Not power over him—clarity.
“I won’t,” she said. “But not for you.”
He looked up.
“I’m staying because this is my life,” she continued. “Whether you’re brave enough to be part of it or not.”
Something in Inigo’s expression finally broke open. Relief. Pain. Wanting.
He reached for her—and stopped himself inches away.
“I want you,” he said softly. “But I don’t get to touch you until I can do it without fear.”
Amelia’s breath caught.
She stood, closing the distance herself just enough to make the line unmistakable.
“Then learn,” she said. “Without me waiting in the dark.”
Lola Cora cleared her throat loudly from the kitchen.
“Dinner in ten minutes,” she called. “If either of you says something foolish, you’re washing dishes for a week.”
Inigo almost smiled.
Almost.
When he left, the space between them remained—but it was different now. Chosen. Honest.
Amelia watched him go, heart aching, steady.
She hadn’t given him herself.
She had given him the truth.
And for now, that was enough.
End of Chapter Six
- Writer
