I choose you

Chapter Eighteen-MATEO

I knew.

I knew Andrés had been impressed.

And God, I loved it.

I really, really loved it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have.

Maybe I was making too much out of one evening.

Maybe I was taking a few words, one look, one thank-you, and turning them into something bigger than they were.

But I wasn’t.

I knew I wasn’t.

Because there were certain things you learned when you spent your entire life surrounded by dangerous people.

You learned how to read a room.

You learned how to read a person’s face.

You learned how to recognize hesitation.

Fear.

Lies.

Confidence.

Interest.

Discomfort.

You learned to notice the smallest changes in someone’s expression because sometimes a person’s eyes told you more than their mouth ever would.

And Andrés?

I had spent my entire life watching him.

I knew him.

Maybe he didn’t know me.

Maybe he didn’t realize how carefully I noticed him.

But I knew him.

And last night, I had seen it.

That tiny change in his expression when he watched me speak to people.

The way his eyes stayed on me longer than usual.

The way he listened when someone introduced me.

The way he didn’t interrupt.

The way he watched.

He had been impressed.

He might never admit it.

He might not even admit it to himself.

But I knew.

And then there had been the thank-you.

That stupid little thank-you.

Three words.

“Thank you.”

That was it.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing romantic.

Nothing that would mean anything to anyone else.

But to me?

It meant everything.

Because Andrés didn’t thank me often.

He didn’t owe me gratitude.

I knew that.

But hearing him say it sincerely?

God.

I had gone home afterward feeling like the luckiest man alive.

It was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

I was the head of the Del Ríos family.

People negotiated carefully around me.

People watched what they said when I entered a room.

I had spent years building businesses, handling negotiations, managing people, making decisions that affected entire organizations.

And yet one quiet thank-you from Andrés could make my entire night.

Maybe even my entire week.

I smiled to myself.

Pathetic.

I was completely pathetic.

And I didn’t care.

⸻

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.

I stared at the ceiling.

And immediately remembered last night.

Andrés standing beside me.

His suit.

The way he had looked when we entered the room.

The way people had approached us.

The conversations.

The partner from Galicia.

And then Andrés introducing me.

“This is my husband, Mateo Del Ríos.”

I closed my eyes.

That sentence again.

My husband.

He had said it.

Publicly.

Without hesitation.

Without looking uncomfortable.

Without trying to hide me.

He had simply said it.

And I knew the reason.

Because it was true.

We were married.

Still—

he could have introduced me differently.

He could have simply said my name.

He didn’t.

He called me his husband.

I smiled.

It was ridiculous how much that mattered.

Then I remembered something else.

When we were leaving, Andrés had thanked me.

I could still hear his voice.

“Thank you.”

I turned onto my side.

Three months.

Three months of almost nothing.

And one evening had given me so much.

Not love.

I wasn’t going to lie to myself.

Not affection.

Not suddenly some miracle transformation in our marriage.

But something.

Something real.

He had seen me.

Not as the Del Ríos name.

Not as the man he associated with crime and blood.

He had seen me as a businessman.

As his husband.

As someone who could stand beside him in his world without embarrassing him.

And that mattered.

More than I wanted to admit.

⸻

I went downstairs for breakfast.

Elena was already there.

She looked at me.

Then smiled.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

She studied my face.

“You’re in a good mood.”

I poured coffee.

“Am I?”

“Very.”

I tried to hide my smile.

“I’m fine.”

She laughed.

“You’ve said that before.”

I looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She went back to what she was doing.

I drank my coffee.

And then, because I apparently had no dignity left, I smiled again.

Last night had been good.

Really good.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I had gone to that event expecting humiliation.

I had expected Andrés to be uncomfortable.

I had expected him to keep his distance.

Instead, we had stood together.

He introduced me.

He let me speak.

He watched me.

And when it was over, he thanked me.

That was enough.

For now.

I didn’t need to turn it into anything else.

I didn’t need to convince myself that Andrés suddenly loved me.

He didn’t.

I knew that.

But maybe—

just maybe—

he was beginning to see me differently.

And I could live with that.

I could be patient.

I had already waited years.

I could wait longer.

⸻

Later that morning, I went into my office.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

A message from Andrés.

I’m leaving early today. I have a meeting at the firm.

I stared at it.

It was nothing.

A simple message.

Completely ordinary.

But I smiled.

He had told me.

He didn’t have to.

He could have left without saying anything.

He usually did.

But he had told me.

I typed:

Okay. Have a good day.

I hesitated.

Then added:

Don’t forget to eat.

I stared at the screen.

Maybe too much.

Maybe annoying.

I almost deleted it.

Then I sent it.

His reply came a few minutes later.

I won’t.

I smiled.

Again.

God.

This man was going to destroy me.

I put my phone down.

Then picked it up again.

Read the message.

Put it down.

Picked it up.

Read it again.

I laughed at myself.

This was absurd.

One dinner.

One thank-you.

One message.

And suddenly my entire world felt lighter.

But maybe that was because I had been starving for anything from him.

Anything.

A conversation.

A question.

A thank-you.

A message.

A look.

A moment.

The smallest things given to me by Andrés felt enormous.

And maybe that wasn’t because they were enormous.

Maybe it was because I had spent so long receiving nothing.

So yes.

I was happy.

Ridiculously happy.

I had been invited as an afterthought.

I had gone because Héctor couldn’t.

I had known Andrés didn’t want me there.

I had walked into that room feeling like an unwanted guest.

And yet, somehow, I had walked out feeling like something had changed.

Not everything.

Not enough.

But something.

And for me, that was enough.

I leaned back in my chair.

For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like I was chasing something impossible.

I felt like I had been given a tiny opening.

A tiny crack in a door that had been completely shut.

And I wasn’t going to force it open.

I wasn’t going to push.

I wasn’t going to demand more.

I would simply wait.

Because if last night had taught me anything, it was this:

Sometimes the smallest thing meant everything.

And if Andrés was willing to give me small things—

I would cherish every single one.

Every look.

Every conversation.

Every message.

Every thank-you.

Every moment he chose to stand beside me.

I would take them.

Not because I wanted to turn them into something they weren’t.

But because they were his.

And anything Andrés willingly gave me had become precious to me.

I smiled again.

Maybe I really was pathetic.

But for the first time in a long time, I was a happy kind of pathetic.

And honestly?

I could live with that.