Semua Bab The Purrfect Wingman: Bab 31 - Bab 40

By the time I arrived at University Hospital, I had already received two texts from my supervising psychiatrist and a voicemail from one of the on-call residents regarding a med hold case that had gone awry overnight. Classic Wednesday. I changed into scrubs in under four minutes, shoved my hair into a semi-neat bun, and headed straight into rounds with a half-eaten protein bar in my hand and a pen already leaking in my pocket. But even as I scanned patient charts and reviewed medication adjustments, part of me wasn’t fully in the ward. Part of me was still on the couch last night, eating arroz con pollo with Zach and watching a ridiculous cooking show while Spitfire judged us from the windowsill. That wasn’t a fantasy. That was real. Messy, quiet, imperfect, and steady. When he had said, “It’s honestly the least I could do. I’m the one that psycho Barbie is stalking,” I wanted to laugh and punch a wall at the same time. But the way he’d looked at me right after? Solid. Unflinc

I woke up to the sound of silence, the kind that didn’t feel peaceful, just off. My bed was cold on the other side, and the apartment felt emptier than usual. It wasn’t even that Ofelia had ever stayed over for more than a night. But after yesterday, after her text about Jane showing up at the hospital, I hadn’t seen her. And now, everything felt… tight. I rubbed a hand over my face and blinked against the morning light bleeding through the blinds. My phone sat face-down on the nightstand, as if it owed me something. I flipped it over. No new texts. No missed calls. She’d said she was okay. That she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “Security handled it,” she’d written, followed by one of those calm but clipped responses she used when she was under stress but pretending she wasn’t. I respected her independence. I did. But I also hated not being able to see her with my own eyes. Hated not being there. Hated the silence. I shuffled into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee

The moment her mouth found mine again, everything else went quiet. No doubts. No distractions. Just Ofelia’s taste, her scent, her heat under my hands as I gripped her hips and pulled her across my lap like she belonged there. Like she had all along. My jacket was already gone, tossed somewhere behind us during round one of kissing. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of my shirt, not bothering with precision, just tugging until they gave, one popping free, then another, until her palms were sliding over my chest like she’d waited her whole life to memorize the shape of me. Ofelia kissed like she thought too much. Like every movement had meaning, even when it was messy. Even when she was straddling me, grinding down just enough to make my breath hitch and my fingers dig into the curve of her ass through those soft, patterned pants. “You’re killing me,” I muttered against her mouth, dragging my hands up her back to fist the hem of her shirt. Her eyes, dark and wild, met mine as she

I called my parents the next morning. It wasn’t a spontaneous move, I spent most of the night thinking about it, lying beside Ofelia, watching the ceiling while she slept with one leg slung over mine like she had every right to claim space there. She did. And that’s why I had to do this. When the sun came up, I untangled gently, kissed her shoulder, and got dressed in the quiet. My phone felt heavy in my hand as I stepped out onto my balcony. I stared at the screen for a full minute before hitting “Call Mom.” She answered on the third ring. “Zachary,” she said, always the full name. “Hey, Mom. Can you and Dad do dinner tonight?” I kept my tone even. No hint of confrontation. A pause. “That depends. Are you bringing a guest?” “Just me,” I said. “There’s something we need to talk about.” That earned another pause, this one longer. “Alright. What time?” “Seven. That Mediterranean place near the station. I’ll reserve a booth.” “We’ll be there.” She hung up without saying goodbye

I didn’t expect her to say it back. Not because I didn’t think she felt it, but because I knew how heavy those words could be when they came from her. Ofelia didn’t give anything lightly, not her trust, not her time, and definitely not her heart. So when I said, “I love you,” and she didn’t hesitate? Yeah. That did something to me. We were half-buried in a blanket, kittens snoring on our legs and chest like we were glorified heating pads, and she just looked at me, sleepy and soft and sure. “I love you, too,” Ofelia said. That was it. No dramatic swell. No surge of panic or doubt. Just peace. I let my eyes close not long after that. The world didn’t end. Nothing broke. If anything, the quiet steadied me more than a kiss ever could. She stayed curled into my side, and for the first time in too long, I didn’t dream about fire or sirens or people I couldn’t save. I dreamt of her. In the morning, I slipped out as gently as I could. Ofelia was still asleep, hair tangled, mouth sligh