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My Ruin, His Supper (21+)
Last Updated:
2025-07-23 17:09:10
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TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Sunglasses, Secrets, and Stupid Men
I opened my eyes again, staring up at the blue sky between the coffee leaves, and the sentence I’d just read resurfaced in my head like an annoying song.[You never see him. You just know when he’s there because everyone else starts acting careful.]“Yes,” I muttered under my breath. “I know.”But that wasn’t the part that made my throat feel bitter. It wasn’t the fact that Zach knew we were going to Los Angeles. It wasn’t even the way he texted like my neck was property of the Romano family.What made me sick was the simple part. The part too domestic for my life.Papa had only mentioned the L.A. trip at the family dinner table. And I had only mentioned it in one chat.Bogotá & the Idiots.That was it.Two circles. Two possibilities. And one of them leaked.I lifted my phone off my chest, unlocked the screen again, and opened the old chat with the +39 number. The two messages were still there neat, cold, like fingerprints on glass.[Your neck is empty.][Don’t go to Los Angeles witho
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN The Coffee Grove and the Ghost I Googled
Papa’s coffee grove stretched behind the mansion like a small world that didn’t care who married who or who got kidnapped by whom last month. On the left side, there was Mama’s chili patch, not big at all but guarded like a national border.I dropped onto the oversized rattan daybed beneath a cream canvas umbrella. The linen pillows were warm from the sun. My bare feet touched the fabric and immediately went limp. Medellín’s late-morning air had that infuriatingly perfect temperature, with the smell of damp soil from watering, coffee leaves, and something sweet from flowers whose names I never remember.On my stomach, my new phone lit up.In front of me, Gemma and Sofia were already running like two rejects from a finishing school for toddlers.“DON’T STEP ON ABUELA’S PLANTS!” I yelled without lifting my head.“OKAAY!” Sofia shouted back from far away, which usually meant yes, but later.Gemma, craftier and calmer, didn’t shout anything. She just looked over her shoulder while she ran
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Found, Forgotten, and Everything In Between
Morning in the Serrano house never understood the meaning of the word slow.Somewhere down the hall, a blender roared to life. Children’s laughter bounced off the walls. The old kitchen radio murmured soft reggaeton. And someone—God knew who—had already started yelling about shoes before the sun had even fully hauled itself up.I stood at the kitchen sink, fingers curled over the cold granite edge, letting the faucet run for a second before I shut it off again.My neck felt… bare.Instinct tugged my hand upward, stopping halfway. Upstairs, in the drawer of my room, rested a single piece of sea-glass on a chain, engraved with one small word on the back. Found.“If you stand there any longer, the floor’s going to get depressed,” a warm, raspy voice called from near the stove.I blinked, lifting my head.Aunt Marisol stood before the big stove, spatula in one hand, cast-iron pan in the other, a red checkered apron cinched around her waist. Her dark hair, streaked with white, was twisted
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Bare
The room feels bigger once the door closes behind me.Sounds from downstairs still drift up in fragments: Bretta’s shrill laugh, Gemma shrieking about something involving ice cream, Mama scolding someone over plates. It all blurs into a low hum, like a TV left on in another room.I drop onto the bed.The mattress bounces lightly. Cold sheets brush my bare back beneath an oversized T-shirt. My jeans are draped over the chair. My bra is God knows where. Only one lamp is on, a dim yellow glow on the nightstand, throwing long shadows on the wall and soft lines across the ceiling.My hand slides down my arm, then reaches for my phone beside the pillow. The screen lights up, catching my reflection for a second: hair tied up in a lazy knot, eyeliner barely hanging on, naked lips. I look like the discount version of myself.Perfect for tonight.My thumb hovers over the one chat icon that matters most.Bogotá & the Idiots.Their profile picture is pure nepotism energy: Isabella in red lipstick
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Serrano Circus
The Serrano dinner table looked the same as always tonight: too full, too loud, and with too few people actually paying attention to their food.I stared at my plate like it was a math exam.Roasted chicken with crisp skin, fragrant yellow rice, fresh salad… on any other night, I’d clear a plate like this down to the bone. Now, my fork just pushed the rice around, carving tiny meaningless lines.My neck felt… empty.Reflexively, my hand lifted, brushing the skin just below my collarbone. No cool chain. No green sea glass hanging like a small claim on my skin. The necklace was in my room drawer, wrapped in tissue paper. Far enough not to be seen. Not far enough to forget.“Wow.”Javier’s voice sliced into my thoughts like a dull knife. Slow and annoying.“Look who suddenly went on a diet.” He shoveled rice into his own mouth, then eyed my plate. “Is this because Matteo’s not here? You only eat properly when your husband’s around, is that it?”One comment. One second. I wanted to throw m
TO HATE, TO TOUCH, TO RUIN Reminder
“Found.”The word clings to the back of my teeth as my brow tightens. The little sea glass is cold against my fingers, but my head feels smoked out.Found.Not I love you. Not I miss you. Not even something I could twist into sweetness if I were desperate enough to justify being an idiot again.Found.If Zach just wanted revenge, he didn’t need to get poetic with a shard of ocean glass.I lift my gaze to Jared. “So…” my voice comes out rough, and I clear my throat, “what does he actually want from me?”The café noise keeps moving like nothing is happening. Spoons clink. A barista calls out someone’s name. Laughter cracks from a corner table. Life goes on. Ordinary. Unfortunately, mine never is.Jared doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head a little, eyes tracing my face, drifting to the first box still closed, then to the sea glass pendant in my hand.“If he just wanted revenge,” I go on, twirling the necklace between my fingers, “Matteo should’ve been the one getting a surprise
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