4 - I want you far away

LUNA

The day was a complete blur. I tried to be kind, efficient, and centered, but the truth is I was only surviving the endless string of meetings and piled-up emails—all because I took a single day for myself. One. Single. Day.

I’m starting to seriously suspect that my father isn’t really managing the company and is secretly dumping everything on me while he spends time with Mom.

Now, back from the last external commitment, I slip off my shoes inside the car the moment the driver parks in the company garage. My feet throb, my head pounds, and all I want is silence and a swivel chair. Or better yet, my bed.

I ride the elevator up with my bag sliding off my shoulder and my blazer unbuttoned. When the doors open, I find Monica waiting for me at the reception desk. Her face lights up when she sees me, as though she’s about to deliver wonderful news.

“Luna! Someone’s here waiting for you. I said you were in a meeting, but he said he’d wait as long as it took. I thought it was super polite. Very kind, actually,” she adds, all excited, with that conspiratorial smile of someone who believes she just did me a favor.

“He?” I repeat, frowning, with not enough energy to hide my reluctance at facing yet another client. “Who is it?”

“He’s in your office! Go see for yourself,” she says, gesturing with enthusiasm, as if handing me a birthday surprise.

A knot of unease climbs up my spine, but I take a deep breath and head toward my office, wishing it were a client, a supplier, even my father—anything but what my instincts are already pointing toward.

I push the glass door open calmly, and the suspicion becomes certainty. He’s there.

Ace.

His back is to me, staring at the shelf where I’d kept—out of inertia or cowardice—the last photo from our wedding. A simple glass frame. My enthusiastic smile. His indifferent gaze. The image I convinced myself for so long was stability and not loneliness.

He doesn’t turn immediately. He stays still, as though the photo had swallowed him whole.

I close the door with a subtle but audible click. He finally turns.

“Luna,” he says, with that low, measured voice that always made me feel like his words never quite arrived whole.

I cross my arms, keeping my distance. I swear it isn’t anger. It’s self-preservation.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His gaze shifts from the photo to me. His eyes are the same as ever. It’s always been hard to read Ace. I never knew if his demeanor was calm seas or storm.

“I needed to see you,” he says, and the word needed grates on me.

How convenient. Just when I finally gave myself permission not to need him anymore. A short, humorless laugh escapes me.

“Anything you want to say about the divorce, you can deal with my lawyer. His contact info was in the papers I left.”

He lowers his head slightly, as if swallowing something bitter, but doesn’t back down.

“I didn’t come to talk about the divorce.”

Of course not.

Why make things simple when he can complicate them with one more of his unexplained, unpredictable actions? After all, making my life harder has always been what he did best.

“If it’s not about the divorce…” I say, turning back toward my desk and dropping my bag a little harder than necessary, “…then there’s nothing to discuss between us. Nothing that justifies you being here.”

My voice is steady, but I know he can hear the tremor I’m trying to hide.

I circle around my desk, pretending to search for a document, some distraction, but he doesn’t move. Or rather, he does. Slowly. Like a sliding shadow, he comes closer.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he comments, now standing on the other side of the desk, as if waiting for… what? For me to listen? To give him space?

I lift my gaze, locking eyes with him for a moment, trying to understand why Ace is here if not just to torment me.

“I’m not surprised because I’ve learned not to expect logic from you,” I snap, lifting my chin. “You always do whatever you want.”

He doesn’t argue. He just watches me with that calm expression that’s far too steady for the chaos he stirs in me. And that’s what infuriates me most—his constant stillness, like he’s carved from stone while I’m always on fire. Next to him, Ace is the balanced one, and I’m the madwoman.

Ace moves closer. He slowly rounds the desk, like he’s stepping through a minefield. And I… I should step back. But I don’t. My entire body goes on high alert—rigid, tense. My breath caught between the urge to flee and the urge to finally confront him.

“Do you want me gone, Luna?” he asks, stopping just one step away from me. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body. “Tell me. And I swear I won’t come back.”

The skin on my neck prickles. Not because he touches me—he doesn’t. He never did. Not in our marriage. Not on our honeymoon. Not on the nights I gathered the courage to reach for him, desperate for any trace of intimacy.

Nothing.

There has always been a wall between us. Invisible, but solid. And now, here he is, acting like he wants to climb over everything he built.

“Tell me, Luna,” he repeats, lower now, his eyes fixed on my lips.

Blood pounds in my ears. The question isn’t difficult—maybe Ace’s ego makes him believe this is all just some act to catch his attention. But it’s not. The answer cuts through me before I can even form it in my head.

“I do,” I say. My voice isn’t firm. It comes out raw. Wounded. A bleeding whisper. “I want you gone. I want you to leave me alone. I want to keep coming home without that weight in my chest, without that expectation that you’ll show up—like now—and suddenly care about something beyond yourself. I can’t stand living as Ace Montesino’s wife anymore.”

I take a step back, as if that could shield me from the memories. But it doesn’t.

“I waited so long for you…” I continue, my vision blurring. “I waited at the altar. I waited on the nights when the bed was far too cold for two. I waited every day you came home late, and every day you didn’t come home at all.”

I draw in a deep breath. My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry in front of him.

“I tried so hard to make excuses for you. To believe it was just your reserved nature, the work, the fatigue. To somehow convince myself that your indifference had nothing to do with me—that you treated everyone the same. But you smiled more at others than you ever did at me. No… you never smiled at me. And you never spoke more than the bare minimum, and when I tried, you said my chatter annoyed you. The truth is, I was never part of your world, Ace. Never. And that… that broke me little by little, like a rope snapping one thread at a time.”

I lower my head, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“You say you needed to see me. And I ask you: why? Because of all the things you could give me, the last thing I need right now is your presence.”

I lift my eyes again, tasting the salt of tears even without letting them fall.

“So please… if you ever wanted me happy, if at any moment—even a small one—you wished I could have peace, or a shred of joy… let me go. Let me move on. Don’t come looking for me again. Because the only chance I have at happiness… is if you’re no longer here.”

Ace doesn’t look away. Not for a second. He stares at me as if, for the first time, he sees the ruin he turned me into.

He blinks slowly. And then, something shifts.

“All right,” he says. Quiet. Simple. Without resistance. I stare at him. For the first time, Ace Montesino yielded. “I’ll sign everything,” he continues, his voice hoarse, weaker now. “The way you want. You’re right, Luna. You’re right about everything.”

He takes a step back. Then another. Until the distance between us is safe again. Bearable. Until the heat of his presence is only a memory.

He swallows hard. His hands clench briefly, then relax. His whole body seems heavy.

“I’m sorry. For everything I never did. For everything I should have done. I wasn’t the man you needed, and all I did was hurt you.”

I don’t answer. Part of me wants to scream, another part wants to cry. But the greater part… only wants him gone.

And he understands.

Ace walks to the door. Opens it. Before leaving, he looks back one last time.

“I hope you’ll be happy.”

And then, he leaves. No drama. No scene. He just… leaves.