Chapter 8
1406 Words
Diego
“Where the hell are you?”
My voice cracked across the empty living room the second Bella picked up, and I hated how desperate it sounded, how the silence of the house made every word echo twice.
I had come home expecting the usual mess of toys and half-folded laundry, the faint scent of Lucia’s strawberry shampoo lingering in the air, and instead there was nothing. No coats on the rack. No little shoes by the door. Just the divorce papers sitting on the dining table like a slap.
“I asked you a question, Bella.”
She exhaled, slow and tired, the way she used to when Lucia wouldn’t sleep and I pretended I couldn’t hear the crying.
“I’m where I need to be,” she said. “Lucia’s safe. That’s all that matters right now.”
Safe. The word scraped me raw. “You took my daughter and disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea how that looks?”
“It looks like I finally stopped waiting for you to choose us,” she answered, calm enough that it felt worse than screaming. “The papers are signed on my end. All you have to do is put your name on the line and let us go.”
I laughed, short and ugly, pacing past the table where those papers sat like a gravestone.
“I’m not signing anything. You don’t get to walk out and play single mom because you’re pissed I missed one birthday—”
“One?” Her voice rose for the first time, sharp as broken glass. “Try every promise you ever made her. Try every night you came home smelling like someone else’s perfume. I’m done asking you to be a father, Diego. And I’m definitely done being your wife.”
“You don’t get to decide that alone.” My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. “Pack your things. Bring Lucia home tonight. We’ll talk like adults.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about.” A soft thud in the background, like a drawer closing, and then Lucia’s small voice asking something I couldn’t catch. My chest caved in. “We’re not coming back,” Bella said quieter. “Goodbye, Diego.”
The line went dead.
I called again. Straight to voicemail. I called again and again. Until the screen blurred and I realized I was shaking.
The house felt too big and too small at the same time, every corner screaming that they were really gone. I opened the fridge, slammed it shut, then opened the liquor cabinet instead.
By the second bottle of whiskey, the room tilted gently, and the papers on the table looked less like a threat and more like a joke someone cruel had played on me. I was still staring at them when the doorbell rang, three soft chimes that cut through the haze.
Sofia stood on the step in a silk dress the color of fresh blood, holding a bottle of wine like an apology.
“Ana told me she called and you sounded pretty upset,” she said, stepping inside before I could tell her to leave. “I figured you shouldn’t be alone.”
I should have shut the door. Instead I took the wine and drank straight from the neck.
She watched me with those careful eyes, the ones that always saw too much and pretended they didn’t. “You look like hell, Diego.”
“Yeah, well, my wife just kidn*pped my kid and served me divorce papers, so I’ll take that as a compliment.” The words slurred together, and I laughed because anything else felt inappropriate.
Sofia moved closer, her hand settling on my arm and her thumb brushing the inside of my wrist the way she used to in high school when she wanted something.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” she whispered, and the room spun a little slower.
I meant to pull away. I really did. But her mouth found mine and the whiskey made everything soft around the edges, and suddenly we were on the couch, her dress rucked up to her hips and my shirt gone, buttons scattered across the rug.
She tasted like expensive lip gloss and revenge. I kissed her harder, angry at Bella, angry at myself, angry at the way Sofia moaned my name like it still belonged to her. My hands knew this body from years ago, before Bella and before everything got heavy.
I flipped her beneath me and drove into her with a violence that wasn’t about pleasure or even about her. It was every fight Bella and I never finished, every promise I broke and every time I chose the easy way out. Sofia gasped, nails raking down my back, urging me deeper, faster, and I gave it to her because it was easier than feeling.
When I came it hit like a punch, and the name that tore out of my throat wasn’t hers.
“Bella!”
The sound hung in the air, ugly and raw. Sofia froze beneath me, then went soft again, kissing my shoulder like she hadn’t heard, like she could pretend it away. I collapsed beside her in sweat as my heart hammered so hard I thought it might stop.
I didn’t hear or do anything after that. I didn’t even fight the fatigue as it took me. I heard Sofia asking me something about Bella, but I gave into the sleep, until everything went black.
***
Morning came in heavy like my eyelids. My mouth tasted like metal and regret.
Someone was curled against me, but the world was blurry as I tried to remember where I was.
It took me a minute before last night came rushing back full folds.
It was then that I realized that it was Sofia who was curled against me, sheet barely covering her ass, and humming something under her breath like we’d woken up in love instead of disaster.
It all came back in waves. The phone call, the liquor, Sofia coming over, and what happened last.
I sat up too fast and the room lurched.
She followed, shock evident on her face.
“Diego, What’s wrong?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Last night…” My voice cracked as I coughed. “We were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”
She sat up, confusion and innocence on her face. “You don’t mean that,” she said.
“Yes I do,” I insisted. “It was a mistake. Nothing more.”
She c****d her head to the side. “But last night you promised you’d marry me once the divorce was final,” she said lightly, as if reminding me I’d left the stove on. “You said Bella never understood you the way I do.”
I stared at her, trying to pull the memory through the fog and finding nothing but static. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” Her fingers traced my jaw, gentle and sure. “But it’s okay. I forgive you for being scared.”
Panic clawed up my throat. I stood abruptly, fumbling for my boxers. “We need to forget this happened. All of it.”
Sofia sat up, sheet clutched to her chest, eyes wide and shining.
“If that’s what you want.” She paused, delicate as a blade. “There’s that cocktail thing tonight for the new investors. Come with me. We can pretend nothing’s changed.”
I opened my mouth to say no, to tell her to get out and never come back, but the words stuck. Because the alternative was sitting here alone with the echo of Bella’s name still on my tongue and those unsigned papers waiting on the table like a dare.
“Seven o’clock,” I said instead. “I’ll pick you up.”
She smiled, bright and victorious, and leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“Wear the navy suit,” she whispered. “It makes you look sharp.” She winked at me as she adjusted her clothes, grabbed her bag and left.
The door clicked shut behind her, soft as a trap closing.
I stood in the middle of the empty living room, head pounding, heart racing, and for the first time in years I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
- Writer
