Chapter 18

Emily

My head was throbbing, almost like a hangover, but the pain only worsened when I tried to get up. My whole body ached, but I could hear voices coming from the kitchen.

“Bi?” I called out, forcing myself to cross the short hallway to the kitchen.

The whispers I’d heard when I got up stopped the moment I spoke.

“Good morning, Emy. Feeling better?” Bi appeared at the doorway, catching me off guard. She sounded upbeat, but her face couldn’t hide her concern. What was going on here… It wasn’t hard to figure out. I only had to look past her to see Marcos at the stove, staring at me. What the hell was this? “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d wake up so early, and he…”

“Enough of that.” He cut off Bianca’s explanations, marching toward me. “God, look at you…” Marcos murmured, standing close, then touching my face. I was frozen. I should’ve punched him or cursed him out, but I just stood there, confused, as he held my face gently. “I’m talking to him today, and you’re not going back there. You’re not taking risks like that.”

“He didn’t mean to,” I managed to say, finding my voice amidst the storm my mind had become.

“I know he didn’t, but he was out of control and took it out on whoever was nearby. That’s why you need to stay away, so it doesn’t happen again when he’s not himself.”

He kept touching me in a way that reminded me of my Marcos, the Marcos who only existed in my head.

It was as if my skin remembered exactly how his fingers felt, his calluses, his scent…

I stepped back quickly. What was I thinking? I needed to stay as far away from him as possible.

“Can you give me a ride to the hospital, Bianca? I need to get my car.” I turned to face her, avoiding him, though I could feel his gaze burning into me.

“Marcos brought it. He went to the hospital last night,” she muttered, looking at her fidgeting hands. This couldn’t have happened—the last thing I needed was his scent in my car, haunting me, as if the memories alone weren’t enough. “He also stayed by your side all night.”

I froze on my way to the door as my brain processed her words.

No, no. Don’t go down that road, Emily. You need to be strong and move forward. You already have enough problems with your dad without mixing an ex-boyfriend and his drama into it. I almost screamed internally and forced myself to step out of that house.

I would’ve walked if Bianca hadn’t come after me, handing me the car keys with an apology. I ignored her, even though I knew she’d helped me so much these past days, especially last night. But right now, I was too angry, grappling with my ghosts.

He stayed by my side last night, but he wasn’t there when I needed him! When I called everyone in town looking for him, when I begged the heavens for him to show up!

I ran home, blocking out any other thoughts.

“Dad?” I called from the door, remembering days ago when I arrived here. “Dad?” I shouted louder, but got no response.

Great, he’d gone out again.

I took a quick shower and threw myself onto the bed. I wasn’t in the mood to cook, and I wasn’t hungry. Sleep didn’t come, thanks to the full night’s rest from the meds. Rolling around in bed, trying to figure out how to make my dad listen, wasn’t helping.

Before I could stop myself, I was standing in front of my bedroom door, which was really a pit of memories. The lilac curtain was closed, but the sunlight shone brightly, filtering through and painting the yellow walls with an orange hue.

Hundreds of photos of Bete, Bi, and me were scattered across the walls, mixed with others of my parents, friends from town, and my grandparents.

Then my eyes landed on the biggest one — a poster-sized photo of me in my lilac graduation dress, Marcos behind me, his arms covered by a suit jacket, holding me tightly. I smiled, and before I realized it, I was touching it, as if I could feel something through the picture.

Around the huge photo, I’d taped smaller ones from other moments with him — him teaching me to drive, when I passed the college entrance exam, traveling to the next town to register for university, his birthday at my house, random shots of us together in the square, park, and lake. Moments when we were caught exchanging looks or subtle touches.

My chest tightened at the thought of what we could’ve been, what we could’ve had. That lovesick girl had her heart broken into so many pieces, I doubted any of her remained in me.

Why couldn’t we have had a lifetime together to make mistakes and fix them? So many possibilities ran through my mind.

My heart sank with the realization that nothing would ever be the same. No matter what happened in our lives moving forward, the past had already left its mark on both of us.

I was so distracted I barely noticed my phone ringing. I ran to grab it from the guest room, but the call had already dropped. Before I could unlock it, it rang again. I answered quickly.

“I can’t believe old Emily decided to show up,” came a voice with a mix of accents.

“Carlos, you sneaky cowboy, where’ve you been hiding?” I greeted, smiling at his sweet, raspy voice.

“Darling, I could ask you the same thing,” he said with a grin in his voice, the ever-cheerful Carlos. “What’s up with the call?”

“We need to talk to you, me and Bete. Where can we meet?”

“What happened? I can go to her place right now.” He was already nervous just hearing her name, which warmed my heart because I knew he’d love the baby news.

“No, it’s gotta be somewhere I can kick your ass if you act like a jerk, of course,” I said. The sound of air hissing through his teeth made me laugh—Carlos took everything literally.

“At the club, then, before it opens. Let’s say… four?” he said quickly.

“Perfect!” I replied, ready to hang up. “One more thing, Carlos,” I said, grabbing his attention again. “Don’t let me down.”

I called Bete right after, explaining everything, and went to change. With the excitement those two were feeling, they’d probably get there early.

I was about to head downstairs while checking my bag but stopped in front of the memory-pit bedroom. Part of me was still trapped there, especially now that I’d gone inside, but this wasn’t the time. It was time to stand by my friends, as I should’ve done years ago.

I honked in front of Bete’s house before going in, already scolding her for leaving the door unlocked.

“This isn’t São Paulo. We always leave doors open in São Fernando until nightfall, you know… Aah!” she screamed, startled, when she looked up and saw me.

I already had an idea of what she was staring at with that horrified look.

“Come on, I used almost all my makeup to cover it,” I muttered, trying to check my phone’s screen to see if I’d missed any part of the bruise.

“Look at the size of your nose and that red eye…” she murmured, shocked, coming closer. “We’re going to the police station right now to put that bastard behind bars, and then I’ll kick his balls!”

“Hey, calm down, hurricane. It was my dad. He was a bit out of it and didn’t know what he was doing.”

“That bastard! I’ll end him,” Bete growled, switching to full volcano mode.

“Bete, he’s my dad,” I said, putting an end to it, though I knew she wouldn’t let it go easily. “Let’s get this over with.” I headed for the door. “God, I can’t wait for you to stop wearing those baggy clothes so I can see that baby growing."

“I can’t wait either,” she said, taking a deep breath before I started the car. Her dramatic pause this time was serious. “But I’m scared too,” she confessed.

I squeezed her hand tightly, trying to convey all the comfort, love, and support I wanted her to feel. I knew she’d need all the love and support from her friends right now.