004: Let me breathe

Liana’s POV

( present day…..)

I hesitated at the door, not even sure if they’d let me in again.

But I had to to take the shame and come here this morning

Last night was the longest, I couldn’t find sleep.

Matteo word about my father kept ringing in my head.

And this morning I knew I had to run. It was my only escape.

I was scared he might not come today, maybe I will beg someone else.

But just Then I saw movement behind the glass.

He was already inside.

Not alone.

He was with someone, a tall man, laughing at something the stranger said, relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before. Like he belonged to another world.

My breath hitched.

I almost turned back. I didn’t belong in that brightness. In that ease.

Then the door opened.

He was the one holding it.

We locked eyes.

I didn’t speak. Just stepped inside quickly, my head low.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

He didn’t reply. Just nodded.

I headed to the treadmill. My body moved like it had no other setting. I ran, harder than I ever had. Every insult from Matteo poured out with each step. Every moment of silence, every slammed door, every fake smile at a family dinner, gone in sweat and motion.

“Slow down,” a voice said beside me.

I flinched.

He’d stepped onto the machine next to mine again.

“I’m fine,” I said, breathless.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I said I’m fine.”

A pause.

“Bad morning?”

I gave a dry laugh. “Bad decade.”

He didn’t press. Just ran beside me. Not matching me this time. Letting me take the lead, fall apart if I needed to.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe more.

Then, quietly, he said, “Do you want to grab a smoothie or something?”

I blinked at him.

“What?”

“After this. We could sit. Talk. Or not talk. Whatever works.”

I hesitated. “I’m married.”

“I didn’t ask for your number. Just a smoothie.”

“I can’t. I don’t… I’m not looking for anything.”

“Neither am I.”

Silence again. I kept running. Slower now. Tired. Angry. Worn.

“Maybe later,” he added casually. “We could meet again this evening. Try something fun. No pressure.”

“I won’t come.”

His voice did not change. “Alright.”

I slowed to a stop, chest heaving. He was still running, steady. consiistent, infuriatingly calm.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

I looked at him.

“I told you, I’m not coming back.”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard that before.”

I grabbed my water bottle, heart racing for reasons I didn’t want to name, and wallked out.

The moment the door closed behind me, I felt like I’d left something behind.

Or maybe I’d just stepped closer to something I wasn’t ready for.

I was a long sad day.

A part of me clung to the silence, whispering prayers that maybe. Just maybe. Matteo wouldn’t come home tonight.

But he did.

Much earlier than usual. It was just 5pm.

I was half asleep on the bed. Curled in one of Matteo’s old sweatshirts, the air conditioner humming like a lullaby.

Then I heard my name

His voice was low and close.

It all happened beyond my control.

First from pleading to a unwanted s*x

I really hated him more tonight

For making me feel unwanted in my own skin.

I just knew I had to leave the house. So I don’t suffocate

The gym was my only safe place.

But here I was standing In front of another trouble.

How did I not knew he was the owner of this gym house.

How stupid and dumb was I

Wait… you own this places ?”

“Maxwell Reyes,” he said simply.

My knees nearly buckled.

“Oh my God. You’re the owner. I…I’ve been sneaking in, and you—”

I felt ridiculous.

He stepped forward, hands slightly raised.

“Breathe.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to break rules…”

“You didn’t break anything.”

“I’ll leave. I won’t come back…”

He gently touched my arm.

“Liana.”

My name on his lips made my chest ache.

“We’re friends now. You don’t have to apologize.”

He walked over to a small minibar, poured something amber into a glass, and handed it to me.

“I don’t drink,” I whispered.

“Just a sip. You don’t have to finish.”

I took it. Sat down.

He sat beside me, not too close. But enough to make the silence feel safe.

“You can talk,” he said. “Whatever it is. I won’t say a word.”

I stared into the glass.

I’d never told anyone. Not even Maria.

Not even myself.

But something about him, his quiet presence, cracked me open.

And I told him.

Everything.

From the first slap to the forced nights. The control. The silence. The way I vanished, piece by piece, inside my own home.

He didn’t interrupt.

He just held my hand.

Listened.

And when I finally stopped, I realized I was crying again.

This time, I didn’t stop it.

He leaned in. Brushed a thumb across my cheek.

“It’s okay to cry.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“You don’t have to. Not tonight.”

My breath caught.

And all the fear, all the shame, turned into one desperate need—

To feel something different.

Something real.

I leaned forward.

And kissed him.

Soft. Trembling. Real.

He paused.

Then kissed me back.