You Left, I Could Have Fixed Us

Chapter 1

Maya’s POV

“Guess what, Maya. I fucked her. And you’re no better than me.”

The words fell like a bomb in the middle of my room. I froze, the mug of tea in my hand trembling so hard it nearly spilt. I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard.

“You’re lying,” I whispered. My throat tightened around the words.

Alvarez smirked, cruel and sharp, but his eyes burned with something more dangerous than humour. “You think I’d lie about that? After everything? No, Maya. I wanted you to know.”

My chest caved in. My breath came short, like I’d been shoved underwater. “Why would you do that?”

He stepped closer, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders were stiff, but his voice was ice. “Because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Because every time you threatened to leave, I believed you would. Because you look at me like I’ve already failed you.”

The tears blurred my vision before I could stop them. “So you… You went to her?”

His jaw clenched. “At least she wanted me. At least she didn’t treat me like I was disposable.”

I laughed — broken, hollow, jagged. “So that’s your excuse? You cheated because your pride couldn’t handle me calling you out on your bullshit?”

His smirk faltered. He raised his voice. “Because you gave up on me first! Don’t act like you’re innocent here. You’ve been pulling away for months. You stopped fighting for us. You think I didn’t notice?”

My hands shook as I set the mug down, afraid I’d throw it at him. “I fought for us every damn day, Alvarez. I put up with your moods, your anger, your drinking. I defended you when Leah and Zara begged me to leave. I believed in you when nobody else did.”

His voice cracked, raw for the first time. “And it still wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

The silence that followed was deafening. His chest heaved as he glared at me, and I realised he wasn’t just trying to hurt me. He was drowning, and this was his way of dragging me down with him.

“I could have fixed us,” I whispered, tears spilling down my face.

For a flicker of a second, I saw him — not the angry, reckless Alvarez standing in front of me, but the boy who used to kiss my freckles one by one, the boy who held me on the football field after his first big win, the boy who once promised me forever under a streetlight.

But he blinked, and it was gone.

He turned toward the door. “No one can fix us.”

The slam of the door shook the walls.

I stood there shaking, staring at the space where he’d been. My whole body buzzed with pain, my head spinning. I sank onto the bed, clutching a pillow so hard my nails dug into the fabric. The scent of him lingered in the blanket we used to share, and it broke me all over again.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A flood of texts lit up the screen. Leah: Leave him, Maya. He’s poison. Zara: Pick up. Please pick up. I know something’s wrong.

I couldn’t face them. Not yet.

I cried until the sun rose.

At the café the next morning, I moved like a ghost. The smell of espresso, the hiss of milk frothing, the chatter of customers — it all felt far away. My boss glanced at me once, her brows pulling together, but she didn’t say anything.

Zara showed up before her shift at the boutique across the street. She leaned against the counter, her dark curls tied back, her eyes scanning my swollen face.

“You look like hell,” she said flatly.

“Thanks,” I muttered, sliding a cappuccino across to a customer.

Her tone softened. “He did something, didn’t he?”

I swallowed, staring at the foam swirling in a half-made latte. My hands shook.

“Maya,” she pressed. “Tell me.”

My chest tightened. If I said it out loud, it would be real.

I forced a smile that felt like glass cracking. “We fought. That’s all.”

She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe a word. “You know what Leah’s going to say.”

I groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Then I’ll say it for her. Leave him. Before he ruins you.”

The words stung because they echoed what my heart already whispered.

Dinner that night was worse. My cousin Leah sat across from me, picking at her food while staring daggers into my soul. My mom kept quiet, too quiet, but I saw the worry in her eyes. My dad filled the silence with stories about work, laughing too loudly, trying to cover the tension.

When the plates were cleared, Leah followed me into the kitchen. Her voice was sharp but shaking. “He cheated, didn’t he?”

The spoon in my hand clattered against the sink. I turned to her, tears welling again.

Leah’s eyes flashed. “Maya, you cannot go back to him. Not after this. Do you hear me? You’ll lose yourself if you do.”

I wanted to argue. To defend Alvarez. To say love was complicated, that people made mistakes. But the words wouldn’t come, because deep down I knew she was right.

That night, alone in my room, I replayed his words again and again. Guess what, I fucked her. And you’re no better than me.

Each time I heard them in my head, my chest ached all over.

I curled into myself, clutching the blanket, whispering into the dark, “I could have fixed us.”

But as the tears slid into my pillow, I realised something I wasn’t ready to face.

Maybe Alvarez never wanted to be fixed at all.