I choose you

Chapter Twelve-MATEO

Nobody tells you how difficult it is to get attention from someone who does not want to give you any.

Nobody.

People talk about falling in love.

They talk about marriage.

They talk about wanting someone.

They talk about the excitement of finally having the person you’ve loved for years.

Nobody talks about what happens afterward.

Nobody tells you how humiliating it can feel to sit across from your own husband at breakfast and realize you know absolutely nothing about his day.

Nothing.

Not because he was hiding anything.

Not because something was wrong.

He simply didn’t tell you.

For three weeks, Andrés had been working.

Three weeks.

And I had asked him every day.

How was work?

“Fine.”

Did you like the meeting?

“Yes.”

How was your case?

“Good.”

Did anything interesting happen?

“No.”

Sometimes he didn’t even look up from his phone.

And that was it.

Conversation over.

Three weeks.

That was all I had gotten.

Fine.

Good.

Yes.

No.

I was losing my mind.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t quiet with everyone.

No.

Of course not.

That would have been easier.

If Andrés were simply quiet, I could understand it.

But he wasn’t.

He talked.

He talked to Elena.

He talked to the other staff.

He talked to the guards.

He talked to Daniel.

Daniel.

That man had become a personal enemy without doing a single thing wrong.

I hated him.

Not really.

But almost.

Because apparently my husband had more to say to his driver than he had to say to me.

It was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

And I knew it.

I knew how pathetic I sounded.

I was Mateo Del Ríos.

I had people terrified of me.

People waited for my approval before making decisions that affected millions.

I could walk into a room and silence everyone without raising my voice.

But Andrés could walk into the house after work and say,

“Elena, today was actually really interesting.”

And suddenly I was standing in the hallway thinking—

Why doesn’t he tell me that?

Why does Elena get to know?

Why does Daniel get to know?

Why does everyone get to know?

Except me?

It was sickening.

It was annoying.

It was humiliating.

And I hated how much it hurt.

One evening, I came home earlier than usual.

I was in the hallway when I heard Andrés’ voice from the kitchen.

I stopped.

I wasn’t trying to listen.

At least that was what I told myself.

“…and then the partner actually changed the entire strategy.”

Elena laughed.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you do?”

“I pointed out the problem with the clause.”

There was pride in his voice.

I smiled without meaning to.

That was my husband.

He was doing well.

He was happy.

He had found something he genuinely loved.

That made me happy too.

Then I heard him laugh.

Actually laugh.

I closed my eyes.

I wanted to walk in.

I wanted to say something.

Anything.

Maybe ask what happened.

Maybe tell him I was glad his day went well.

But I stayed where I was.

Because I didn’t want to intrude.

Then Elena asked,

“Was the client difficult?”

And Andrés started explaining.

In detail.

Details.

He was giving her details.

I stood there for almost five minutes listening to my husband explain his day to the housekeeper.

Five minutes.

I couldn’t remember the last time he had given me five uninterrupted minutes of conversation.

I walked away.

I went upstairs.

Closed my office door.

And sat down.

I stared at the wall.

“This is ridiculous.”

I said it aloud.

Nobody answered.

Of course nobody answered.

I was alone.

Again.

⸻

Another night, Andrés came home late.

Very late.

I was still awake.

It was almost three in the morning when I heard the front door.

I looked at the clock.

2:57 a.m.

I waited.

I don’t know why.

Maybe I expected him to come upstairs and ask where I was.

Maybe I expected him to check if I was awake.

Maybe I expected him to ask why I hadn’t gone to sleep.

Maybe—

I don’t know.

I just waited.

His footsteps came down the hallway.

He passed my office.

Didn’t stop.

He went upstairs.

That was it.

No question.

No message.

Nothing.

I sat there for another ten minutes.

Then I laughed quietly.

What exactly was I expecting?

He didn’t owe me that.

He didn’t owe me anything.

I knew that.

I had known that before we married.

But knowing something intellectually didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Because we lived together.

We shared a bedroom.

We ate breakfast at the same table.

We were legally married.

Was it really so much to expect him to notice when I came home?

Apparently it was.

⸻

The next morning, Andrés was drinking coffee when I walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

I sat across from him.

He looked at his phone.

I watched him.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Silence.

I waited.

He continued eating.

I waited longer.

Nothing.

I cleared my throat.

“How was work yesterday?”

“Good.”

“Anything interesting?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

I stared at him.

He didn’t even notice.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I drank my coffee.

“Okay.”

That was all.

He stood.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

He left.

I watched him walk away.

Then I looked at the empty chair across from me.

I hated this.

I hated wanting something so small.

I wasn’t asking him to love me.

I wasn’t asking him to kiss me.

I wasn’t asking him to sleep with me.

I wasn’t asking him to suddenly become affectionate.

I just wanted him to care.

A little.

Just a little.

Ask me how my meeting went.

Ask me why I was home late.

Ask me whether I ate.

Tell me something about your day.

Anything.

We were human beings.

We lived under the same roof.

Surely that counted for something.

Didn’t it?

⸻

And then there was Daniel.

I found myself watching them one afternoon.

Andrés was getting ready to leave.

Daniel stood by the car.

Andrés said something.

Daniel laughed.

Andrés laughed too.

I stared through the window.

Something inside me twisted.

I had no right to be jealous.

I knew that.

But I was.

Completely.

I walked downstairs.

“Daniel.”

He immediately straightened.

“Yes, sir?”

I looked at him.

“You drive Andrés.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You protect him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You stay close enough to do your job.”

“Of course.”

I nodded.

Then I lowered my voice.

“You don’t need to become his friend.”

Daniel blinked.

I could see the confusion.

“I understand.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stared at him for another second.

Then walked away.

It wasn’t my proudest moment.

Actually, it was probably one of the most ridiculous things I had done in years.

I had essentially warned a grown man not to talk too much to my husband.

My husband.

Who wasn’t even in love with me.

I was jealous of his driver.

His driver.

I sat in my office afterward and rubbed my face.

“What is wrong with you?”

I already knew the answer.

I wanted Andrés.

Not physically.

Not only that.

I wanted his life.

I wanted the small pieces.

The insignificant things.

I wanted him to come home and tell me about a ridiculous thing that happened at work.

I wanted him to complain about his boss.

I wanted him to tell me which associate irritated him.

I wanted him to tell me when he was tired.

I wanted him to tell me when he was happy.

I wanted to know what he was thinking.

I wanted him to look at me and decide that I was worth telling.

That was what hurt.

Not that he didn’t love me.

I knew he didn’t.

Not yet.

What hurt was that he didn’t seem to think of me at all.

I wasn’t part of his world.

I was simply someone living in the same house.

His husband.

But distant.

⸻

That evening, Andrés came home around eight.

I was in the living room.

He walked in.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

He put his briefcase down.

Elena came from the kitchen.

“How was your day?”

Andrés smiled.

“Actually, really good.”

I looked up.

Really good.

Those were the words I had been waiting to hear.

He continued.

“We had a hearing scheduled for tomorrow, and the partner changed the strategy at the last minute. It was actually interesting because—”

I listened.

He talked.

He explained everything.

I sat there silently.

Not because I wasn’t interested.

Because I was terrified that if I spoke, he would stop.

He talked to Elena.

Then one of the other staff members came in.

He talked to them too.

Then Daniel came inside.

Andrés turned toward him.

“Daniel, did you manage to get that book I mentioned?”

Daniel nodded.

“Yes. It’s in the car.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at them.

The jealousy returned.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Andrés finally looked at me.

For a second, our eyes met.

“How was your day?”

My heart actually stopped.

He had asked.

Me.

“Busy.”

He nodded.

“Okay.”

Then he picked up his briefcase.

“I’ll go upstairs.”

And he left.

I sat there.

One question.

One answer.

That was all.

But somehow—

I smiled.

Because he had asked.

It was nothing.

It was practically meaningless.

But I didn’t care.

It was something.

Maybe that was what I had to learn.

With Andrés, I couldn’t demand everything at once.

I couldn’t expect him to suddenly open his entire life to me.

I couldn’t make him care.

I couldn’t make him love me.

I couldn’t even make him talk to me.

All I could do was remain here.

Be patient.

Give him space.

And hope.

Hope that one day, he would look at me and realize I wasn’t just the man he had been forced to marry.

Maybe one day I would become the man he wanted to come home to.

Until then—

I would take the small things.

The greetings.

The thank-yous.

The occasional questions.

The tiny smiles.

The two-word messages.

Anything.

Because he was still here.

And even after three weeks of barely being allowed into his world, I was still happier than I had ever been.

Was that pathetic?

Yes.

Was I ashamed?

A little.

Was I going to stop?

No.

Because I had waited for Andrés for years.

I could wait a little longer.

But tomorrow—

I was going to try something different.

I wasn’t going to ask him about work.

I wasn’t going to ask him what happened.

I wasn’t going to chase him for attention.

I was simply going to sit beside him.

Maybe we could exist in the same room without either of us needing to say anything.

Maybe that could be enough.

For now.

I could live with that.

Probably.

Maybe.

I hoped so.

Because loving someone who didn’t love you back was hard.

But loving someone who lived right beside you and still felt a million miles away?

That was something else entirely.