Broken Pieces

Chapter Two

Maya’s POV

“You’re pathetic, Maya. Still crying over me?”

The words burned across my phone screen like fire. Alvarez’s message stared back at me, and for a second, I thought I could hear his voice, low and cruel, slipping through the walls of my apartment.

I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. My chest rose and fell fast, my breath sharp and uneven. My hands were shaking, but I refused to drop it. I hated how his words still had the power to rip me apart.

“Bastard,” I whispered, tossing the phone onto the couch. I buried my face in my hands, pressing my palms against my eyes, willing the sting of tears to go away.

A knock rattled my door, soft at first, then louder. “Maya, open up. I know you’re in there.”

It was Leah.

I dragged myself across the room, wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and pulled the door open. Leah’s eyes darted to my face, catching the redness I couldn’t hide. She sighed, brushing past me without asking for permission.

“You’ve been crying again.”

I closed the door behind her, my voice low. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Leah turned, hands on her hips, her gaze sharp. “He texted you again, didn’t he?”

I stayed silent.

“Maya, stop protecting him,” she pressed. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” My voice cracked, betraying me.

Leah stepped closer, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at her. Her face softened, but her tone didn’t. “It matters to me. You don’t see what he’s doing to you. He’s cutting into you, over and over, and you just… You just take it.”

The weight of her words sat heavily on my chest. Tears spilt down my cheeks before I could stop them. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted him to cheat? To call me pathetic? To make me feel like I’m nothing?”

Leah’s own eyes glistened, and her voice broke. “No. I don’t. But it kills me to watch you let him do this.” She pulled me into her arms, wrapping me tight. “I can’t keep seeing you like this. You deserve so much more, Maya.”

Her words were a balm and a knife at the same time. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe there was more for me than Alvarez.

The next morning, the café felt like the only place I could breathe. The hiss of the espresso machine, the chatter of customers, the warm smell of roasted beans—it all wrapped around me like a blanket, covering the cracks Alvarez had left.

But the mask didn’t last. Zara showed up just before noon, sliding into her usual spot at the counter. Her ponytail swayed as she tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing at me.

“You didn’t answer my calls last night.”

I avoided her stare, busying myself with wiping down the counter. “I was tired.”

“Don’t lie.” Zara’s voice was calm but firm. “You were crying again.”

I froze, cloth in hand. Slowly, I looked up. “You sound like Leah.”

“Good,” she shot back. “She’s right. This is destroying you.”

My chest tightened. I hated being seen so clearly. “I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t.” Zara leaned closer, lowering her voice so the customers wouldn’t hear. “Maya, I’ve known you since we were kids. You think I don’t notice? You’ve lost weight. Your smile looks forced. You move like you’re carrying a hundred pounds on your back. This isn’t you.”

Her words cracked something in me. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

“He texted me,” I whispered.

Zara’s eyes sharpened. “And?”

I looked down at the counter, ashamed. “He called me pathetic.”

Her hand slammed against the wood, making the spoon in her cup clatter. A man at the corner table looked up, startled, before returning to his laptop.

“That’s it. I’m done watching this. You’re blocking his number today. No excuses.”

“I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” Zara’s voice trembled with anger. “If you don’t, he’ll never stop. He’ll drag you lower and lower until you can’t climb back out.”

The words echoed in my head long after she left, trailing through me with every buzz of my phone. My fingers itched to unlock the screen, to see what Alvarez had sent next. But I didn’t. Not yet.

That evening, dinner with my family felt like walking into a room full of unspoken truths. My mom moved quietly around the table, placing bowls of rice and stew in front of us. Her eyes flickered to me often, lingering as though she wanted to ask but didn’t know how.

My dad tried to keep the mood light, telling a clumsy story about a man at work who mixed up reports. I forced a laugh, but it came out hollow.

Leah sat beside me, her hand brushing mine under the table every so often, a silent reminder that she was there.

After we finished eating, she leaned close. “Promise me you won’t go back to him.”

Her words were soft, but they stabbed through me.

I stared at the tablecloth, tracing the faded pattern with my finger. My voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Leah squeezed my hand harder. “Then let me help you figure it out. Please.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to promise her. But the words stuck in my throat.

Later, alone in my room, I gave in. I unlocked my phone and scrolled through the messages. Alvarez’s words were waiting, sharp and poisonous. You’re nothing without me. Don’t act like you’re better. You’ll come back. You always do.

Each one hit like a blade. My chest ached, my breath uneven. I pressed the phone to my chest, tears streaming freely now.

Leah’s pleading, Zara’s anger, my mother’s silence—all of it swirled in my head, mixing with the memory of Alvarez’s smile, the warmth of his arms, the sound of his laugh when it was still mine.

I whispered into the darkness, my voice shaking. “I could have fixed us.”

And maybe the worst part was that a small, broken part of me still believed it.