STRINGS OF THE PAST (A Song we will play)

Chapter 25

Echoes of Jealousy

The next morning began with a dark, reluctant dawn — the kind of light that held yesterday's feelings like fog. Bruno Sanchez sat beside his New York apartment's large windows, staring at the skyline as if it could give him answers. Catherina's trembling lips, her sweet, pain-filled voice, and the kiss that had been both a promise and a goodbye echoed in his mind like a broken record.

He had left Harvard hours before, but his heart had not left her. Every thought contained her name.

Now, sitting with a half-empty mug of coffee and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background, he felt the full impact of what had transpired. He couldn't decide which hurt more: knowing Catherina was in pain or realizing he couldn't protect her from whatever gloom haunted her gaze.

Across the miles, at Harvard, the dawn light seeped through Catherina's dorm curtains. Her phone buzzed incessantly on the desk. She reached for it, her eyes still puffy from a sleepless night. Three texts, all from Junior Cortez.

Junior: You weren't home when I got back. I heard you were with Bruno.

Junior: Is this true? Did you kiss him?

Junior: If you think you can just walk away from me, you are mistaken.

Her hand trembled as she locked the phone and placed it face down on the table. The air around her seemed heavy. Junior's grip on her life had grown stronger since that night - the fainting, the flood of memories, the truth she hesitated to tell Bruno. He smiled in public and laughed with friends, but his texts, looks, and words conveyed a sense of threat and control.

She had expected the kiss to offer her comfort. Instead, she felt like a target.

Bruno's name appeared on her phone next.

She paused, then responded.

"Cat?" His speech was warm and gentle— too careful. "Did you sleep?"

A pause. "Barely."

He exhaled. "I figured. I could not quit stop thinking about yesterday. "About you.”

“Don't," she said quietly, peering at the dorm window. "You have a lot going on in New York— the firm, the board meetings... Tracey Rodriguez."

He chuckled quietly, but it did not reach his heart. "You're changing the subject."

"Maybe." She said.

"Cat," he replied gently, "if something's wrong, you can tell me."

Her throat had constricted. She wanted to tell him everything, including Junior's threats, her guilt, and how fear nestled in her chest like a second heartbeat. But she couldn't. She remembered Junior's final warning: if you tell him, I'll finish him. I'm going to end you both.

"I'm fine," she claimed, her voice breaking slightly. "Just… law school stress."

Bruno didn't believe her, but he didn't insist. "Alright. But I'll check in later, alright?" When the call ended, she felt the emptiness return, like music cut too short.

That same day, Junior stood in front of a mirror in his apartment, buttoning his shirt with agitated, angry fingers. His reflection scowled back at him, with piercing, restless eyes and a rage-filled jaw.

He replayed the moment he faced Bruno at the door. Bruno's calm eyes pained him more than any insult. Bruno had not flinched, begged, or defended himself. That calm had said what Junior didn't want to hear: Bruno was the better man.

The humiliation seared in his chest.

By the time he arrived campus, he was like a storm about to break. He noticed Catherina across the courtyard, her books pressed tightly against her chest. She appeared delicate and remote, almost like the girl he had driven home the night of the tragedy. But that softness had never belonged to him, and the discovery tore him up inside.

"Catherina!" His voice broke over the chatter of other students.

She froze. Around them, the courtyard fell silent.

"Junior," she replied quietly, turning. "We are in public. Don't—"

“You kissed him.” His tone was low and harsh. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Junior stepped closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "Do you think he loves you? Do you think he can defend you? You don't know who he's dealing with, Cat. "You're safe with me."

"I was never safe with you," she said, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone. His eyes darkened.

"Careful." He shouted.

"Or what?" She questioned.

He grasped her wrist before she could get away. Gasps echoed among the neighboring students. His grip tightened, and she winced.

"You belong to me, Catherina," he growled. "No one takes what's mine."

Then he heard a voice behind him: cold, distinct, and controlled.

"Let her go."

Junior froze.

Bruno stood a few feet away, wearing a charcoal coat and an expression that made the air shift. He must have driven straight from New York; the tiredness in his eyes could not conceal the fire behind them.

Junior pulled his lips into a mocking grin. "The hero returns."

Bruno's stare did not waver. "You heard me." He said.

"Or what?" Junior scoffed. "Will you hit me? Ruin your valuable CEO reputation?”

"Try me." He responded.

The resulting hush was thick enough to c***k. Junior's jaw tightened, and it appeared that he was about to swing — but security was already approaching from the crowd's borders.

Catherina pleaded, "Please, both of you, stop."

Junior freed her wrist, giving Bruno a final sneer. "This isn't over," he mumbled, as he turned away, his pride shattered.

The crowd began to disperse, murmuring with shock. Bruno gently took Catherina's hand and led her to the ancient music room near the library, reminding her of the past memories of how he usually walked her to their high school library.

Inside, the air had a subtle odor of varnish and aged piano keys. Catherina sat beside the upright piano, while Bruno leaned against the window, his chest still rising with unresolved wrath.

"What did he do to you?" Bruno inquired calmly.

She shook her head, her gaze remote. "Nothing I can't handle."

"That's not an answer." He said.

"I don't want to talk about it." Cat replied.

Bruno crossed the room and kneeled before her as he spoke. "Cat, you don't need to protect him. You owe him nothing."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her barriers weakened for a brief moment. "You do not understand, Bruno. Junior is dangerous. He's more than just a student; his family is powerful. He could hurt you."

Bruno reached for her hands and steadied her trembling fingers. "Then he will have to attempt. Because I won't walk away again."

Something in his tone caused her heart to ache and flutter.

He stared at her not as the youngster she knew, but as a man who had already lost so much and refused to lose her.

She took a big breath and wiped her eyes. "You shouldn't have come Bruno, You have so much to handle at your company. Especially your new found love Tracy."

"And let him touch you like that again?" he asked quietly. "It's not happening. You are more essential to me than anyone else in the world, Cat. Tracy comes in second."

For a long time, stillness filled the room, with heavy, unsaid emotions circulating between them. Then, softly, Catherina placed her fingers on the piano keys and started playing.

A sluggish, trembling tune that reminded them of something they used to play in high school.

Bruno joined her after retrieving a dusty but still tuned guitar from the corner. Their messages were linked, imperfect but honest, reflecting years of mutual pain and recovery.

When the final note faded, Catherina muttered, "This isn't over, Bruno."

He looked up, his gaze unwavering. "No. It's just the beginning."

Later that night, Bruno sat in his car outside Harvard, the city lights shimmering through the windshield. His phone rang— a call from his boardroom advisor in New York.

"Mr. Sanchez," the voice answered. "We have received word. Rafael Cortez Sr. has emerged. And Junior is his son.”

Bruno froze, his entire body tensing. The name felt like a ghost from the past, the man responsible for his parents death and the source of all the shadows that still haunted them.

"Where?" Bruno inquired, his voice firm despite the turmoil inside him.

"Massachusetts. However, if he moves again, it indicates that something is about to happen. Be careful."

The call went dead.

Bruno leaned back and stared into the night. Between Junior's deadly obsession, Catherina's pain, and Rafael Cortez's reappearance, one thing became clear: the echoes of the past were not going away.They were rising again, louder than before.

And somewhere between love and vengeance, he realized his next move would determine everything.