Crossed Desires

IT'S ALL OVER

Gabriela

So, with the pain tearing at my soul, I say goodbye to the man who had been by my side for so many years.

'Miguel, I don't think this is working anymore. It's best if we leave it at that,' I tell him.

I try to pull away from his hands, but he won't let me. He tightens his grip even more at my words, and fear spreads through me stronger than before.

'It's because now you want to be with him, isn't it?' he says.

He's furious—his eyes red, filled with such rage it feels as if, at any moment, he might strike me. Terror runs through every molecule of my skin.

He seizes me harder, and I am so worn down by his jealousy that I realize I no longer feel love for him. What I feel instead is suffocation. I can't bear it any longer, so I shout as loud as I can:

'No, Miguel! I have nothing with Iván beyond friendship! But the truth is, I'm exhausted—I can't take this anymore! So think whatever you want. You never understand, and you never make time for me. Instead, you spend every moment tormenting me, chasing shadows where there are none!' I speak in a rush, my voice breaking.

'This has become sick, Miguel, and I can't go on like this. The best thing is to end it now,' I finish.

At last, I manage to tear myself free from his grip. I push him as hard as I can until he stumbles onto the couch. I grab my bag from a chair in one frantic motion, and within seconds I am outside, running as fast as my legs can carry me, my heart pounding in my throat.

'Gabriela, come back here!' he shouts angrily. 'You can't just leave like this!'

He runs after me, but I've already gained ground, and I don't look back. I run faster and faster until I burst out into the street, where a taxi is conveniently waiting.

Maybe it had been waiting for someone else—I don't know, and I don't care. I throw myself inside, my chest heaving, tears blinding me.

'Please, sir, drive! Please, go!' I beg the driver, sobbing.

Startled, the man looks at my disheveled state, then quickly starts the engine. I leave Miguel standing there in the street, shouting my name until his voice fades into nothing as the car speeds away.

The driver glances at me, worried. 'Are you all right, miss?' he asks.

Through tears, I manage, 'Yes... yes, I'll be fine. Thank you.'

But my heart is still pounding wildly. A cocktail of emotions explodes inside me, burning like hellfire. Because ending things with someone you once believed to be the love of your life is agony. Yet, that same person had become so suffocating that I felt I couldn't breathe anymore.

You can't live like that—not with that kind of fear, that suffocating dread that the person you loved might actually hurt you. No. I can't allow that, not again. Even if it shatters me, I have to say goodbye.

'Did someone hurt you? I can take you to the police station, or to a clinic, if you want,' the driver offers.

'No... no, it's not necessary. He scared me, yes... but I don't believe Miguel could truly hurt me. I love him, and I don't wish him harm. Still... I can't deny how terrified I was.'

I glance down at myself and realize what I must look like—wearing only his shirt, underwear, and barefoot. Of course the driver is alarmed.

'No, thank you,' I tell him gently. 'I was just very frightened by his state of mind. Could you take me somewhere else instead?'

He studies me for a moment, then nods. 'Of course. Just give me the address—I'll take you wherever you need to go.'

I give him Mónica's address. It's close to my house, but I don't want to go home—Miguel will look for me there first, and I can't face him. As the taxi pulls away, I dial Mónica's number to make sure she's home. I take a deep breath and speak softly into the phone.

'Hello, Mónica...'

There's silence on the other end before she answers. 'Hi, sweetheart. What happened? You sound strange...'

Her concern makes me break down. I sob, unable to hold back. 'Are you home?' I manage to ask.

'Yes, of course. Calm down, tell me what happened... And of course you can come, always,' she assures me tenderly.

Tears stream down my face. 'I'm on my way. I'll explain everything when I get there. Is that okay?'

'My love, you never have to ask. You know I'll always be here for you,' she says with such sincerity that I believe her completely.

I smile weakly through the tears. Mónica has always been my safe haven—we've been inseparable since we were seven years old. I still remember the first day we met in school.

'I'm going to call you Gaby,' she said with a mischievous smile. 'Your name's too long and boring.'

That made me laugh. From then on, we were best friends. She hugged me tightly that day and added, 'We're going to be best friends forever. You know, Gaby, your accent is really funny.'

I laughed even harder. Everyone noticed my Spanish accent back then—we had just moved from Spain to the United States. But her accent was peculiar, too—she was Mexican, and I always thought she sounded like Speedy González from the old cartoons my mother and grandmother used to watch.

'Well, your accent is funny too!' I told her.

And from that moment, we were inseparable. Those were the happiest days of my life.

When the taxi stops, I pay and find Mónica already waiting at the door. The look on her face when she sees me makes my heart ache. I collapse into her arms, crying uncontrollably, and she holds me tight as she leads me inside.

She strokes my hair as I sob, whispering, 'Cry, sweetheart. You know you can always count on me.'

She takes me to her room, lays me gently on her bed, then leaves for a moment. When she returns, she's holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. She places it in my hands, waiting patiently as I sip and slowly calm down.

Minutes later, she looks me straight in the eyes. 'What happened, Gaby? What did that animal do to you?'

I hesitate. She despises Miguel, and if I tell her, she'll only hate him more. But I can't hide anything from her.

'No, Mónica,' I shake my head. 'He didn't hurt me. But honestly, I was terrified. He was so angry, I thought he might... I don't know. I thought he might actually hurt me.'

Tears well up in my eyes again.

'But why? Why was he so angry?' she asks, her voice tight with worry.

I take a deep breath. 'Do you remember Iván and Brat?'

'Of course.'

'Well... Iván called me. He asked about you.'

Her eyes widen. 'Seriously? And...?'

I nod. 'He said he's really interested in you. That he'd like to go out with you. He asked me to help, and even invited us—all of us girls—to a bar. I told him I'd speak with you first. But when I hung up and turned around... guess who was standing right behind me?'

Her hands fly to her mouth. 'Brat.'

'Exactly.'

She shakes her head knowingly. 'Well, judging by how you showed up here, it wasn't hard to guess.'

'Yes. He was furious. He thought I was lying, that Iván was after me, not you. He grabbed me hard, shook me, screamed like a madman. He smashed vases, broke things... He was out of control. I tried to explain, but he was blinded by jealousy. And I was so afraid, I just ran—dressed like this, as you can see,' I say, glancing down at myself.

Her eyes widen in shock. She shakes her head slowly. 'Gaby... I've told you a thousand times. His jealousy isn't normal—it's sick, it's toxic. And you always excuse it.'

I lower my head, shame burning inside me. 'I know. It's partly my fault. I never stopped him.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments—it motivates me to keep writing for you. With all my love, Francia. I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Gaby's story. Don't miss the next ones—they're going to be even more intense.