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Chapter 2 — One Drink Too Many
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2026-07-17 07:55:29Gracias
I think I slammed the car door, but I'm not sure. I did not think. I simply acted. Like a body emptied of meaning. I left the car without a coat, without a purse. Just my keys, planted in my palm, like a desperate attempt to stay conscious. Not to collapse. It was raining. One of those sad rains that cleans nothing. It seeped everywhere. Into my hair, into my clothes, down to the bone. I crossed the street without looking. My heart on the verge of explosion. I was empty and full at the same time. Empty of him. Full of a muted fear, of an atrocious premonition. The bar is there. The one he claimed to hate. Too vulgar, too young, too everything. Lies. Everything was lies. I enter. And the clammy heat seizes me by the throat. Music too loud, smells of sweat, of cheap alcohol. And then… them. At the back, on a banquette. My sister is on my husband's lap. She laughs. He smiles at her. A hand resting on her bare thigh. An intimacy that is no game. It is real. It is owned. And I am one too many. I approach. The floor seems unstable. My legs are cotton. But I walk anyway. Because one does not flee what one needs to see. Even if it destroys. She sees me. And she smiles. A smile that says: you're too late. "Well, well… look who's showing up." He turns his head. Sees me. And does not react. I am there, dripping, trembling, frozen. And him… he analyzes me the way one looks at an awkward stranger. My sister stands. She takes her time. Smooths her dress. She sizes me up from head to toe. "You should maybe sit down. You're really pathetic, Gracias." I hear her without hearing. I see only one thing now: him. So I ask him. In a weak, shattered voice: "Tell me it's not true…" He doesn't answer right away. He takes a sip. Wipes his mouth. Then he says, calmly: "It's true." My stomach twists. My heart stops for a second. I step back. But I stay. I stay. Because I cannot leave. Not yet. "She… she's pregnant by you? Is it true?" He shrugs. "Yes." A single word. Cutting. Cruel. Without detour, without remorse. I lower my eyes. I tremble. "But… and me? And us? You promised me… You said we would try again… that you wanted a child, with me…" He bursts into a dry laugh. "You're sterile, Gracias. You couldn't even manage to give me a kid in three years. I've wasted enough time." The sentence falls like a blade. It resonates. It strips me naked in front of everyone. People around freeze. Some laugh softly. Others look away, embarrassed. I feel my legs give way. But I do not leave. I step closer. I reach my hand toward him. Like a beggar. Like a woman without pride. "Please… don't do this to me… Not here… Not like this. I can change, I swear. I can… I can be better, different… Please, don't leave me." He looks at me, disgusted. Not even angry. Just… extinguished. "Gracias, do you realize what you're doing? Look at yourself. You're begging in front of everyone. It's pathetic." I fall to my knees. I feel nothing anymore. "I love you…" I say it. I repeat it. "I love you, I beg you, come back with me. Not for me… for us. For what we were. I'm pregnant too… I just found out." Silence. A silence that should shock. But he says nothing. My sister, for her part, bursts out laughing. "Her? Pregnant? Give me a break. You must be hallucinating your periods again. Stop dreaming, Gracias. He's mine now." He looks away. He doesn't even ask me if it's true. He doesn't care. I am… alone. On my knees. Before him. My sister returns. She pushes me gently with her leg, like an inconvenient object. "Get out, Gracias. You've lost." I rise slowly. Not because I have the strength. But because I cannot stay lower than this. I turn. I walk toward the exit. My steps drag. I think I am bleeding inside. Something in me has just died. I pass through the door. Outside, it is still raining. But the rain feels soft to me now. Almost soothing. I stop under the streetlamp. My hands on my belly. "I will protect you," I whisper. It is the only promise I can still keep.
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