Heer
The days after I found Carlos by the cliff felt like a blur. We had spent hours talking that night, not in the way we once had, filled with comfort and ease, but in painful, raw honesty. Every word was a wound we both had to face, but somehow, we made it through.
Still, things didn't magically improve. We didn't suddenly heal overnight, as much as I wanted it to be that easy. Carlos was still the same man he had always been—trapped in his own demons, struggling with the weight of a past he couldn't escape. But now, there was a shift. A tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to change. Maybe he could change.
But the more time passed, the more the pressure mounted. There was still the looming reality of our marriage—a contract we had both entered into for reasons that had nothing to do with love. And no matter how much Carlos and I talked, no matter how many times I told myself we could make it work, the truth was undeniable: we were both standing at a crossroads.
What were we really doing? Was this really about love, or was I just another piece in a business deal he had to fulfill? Was I fooling myself into believing that things could be different, or was this a path that would only lead to more pain?
I watched Carlos every day, as he slipped further into his world of shadows, retreating into the role he had been born into. His meetings, his phone calls—everything was a reminder of the life he couldn't leave behind. No matter how hard I tried to bring him into the light, it felt like the darkness always found a way to swallow him whole.
And then, there were the moments when I saw glimpses of the man I fell for—the man who smiled softly, who let his guard down for a moment, and who still looked at me with those eyes full of pain and regret. I wanted to believe that he was capable of love, of happiness, of peace.
But then again, I was scared. I was scared of being hurt. I was scared that all the promises we made to each other would fade into nothing when reality set in. What if the weight of his world destroyed us both?
I sat alone in our living room one evening, staring out at the night. The house was quiet, but the noise in my mind was deafening. The decision was on the horizon. I couldn't keep living like this, caught between love and fear. The question was, what would I do when the time came? Would I stay and fight for something that seemed impossible? Or would I walk away, knowing that the man I loved was slipping away from me?
The door creaked open, and I didn't have to look up to know it was him. Carlos stepped inside, the familiar tension in his presence filling the room.
"Where were you?" I asked quietly, not wanting to sound accusatory, but needing to know.
He paused at the doorway, his gaze avoiding mine. "Just out." His voice was distant, and I could feel the walls he had built growing higher.
I didn't push him, though. I knew he wasn't ready to talk about it, and the last thing I wanted to do was force him into a corner. But the silence between us was suffocating.
Carlos
I had been out, but I didn't know where I had gone. It wasn't the kind of "out" you could explain easily. I had driven with no destination in mind, my hands gripping the wheel as if it could anchor me to something—anything.
I wasn't running from Heer, though. I wasn't trying to avoid her. But I was avoiding the truth. I didn't know what to do anymore.
The more time I spent with her, the more I realized that she deserved so much more than I could ever give. I could feel myself slipping. I could feel my grip on who I was slipping, too.
But I couldn't tell her that. I couldn't let her see how broken I truly was. How lost I was.
She was the only light in my life, but I couldn't let myself believe in the light. Because once I did, the darkness would consume it all.
I stepped inside, and she was sitting there, as beautiful and vulnerable as always. She didn't need to say a word. Her eyes—those soft eyes full of hurt and care—spoke volumes. She was waiting. Waiting for me to open up, waiting for me to let her in.
But I couldn't. Not yet. I wasn't ready.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice hoarse. "I don't know what to do."
And that was the truth. I didn't.
Heer
His words hit me harder than I expected. I had been waiting for him to say something—anything—that would make me believe in us again. But instead, he gave me his broken honesty.
"I'm sorry."
How many times had I heard those words from him? How many times had he apologized without really understanding what he was apologizing for?
But this time, it felt different. This time, I knew he meant it. He was sorry for something bigger than I could ever grasp. And I realized then, just how far apart we really were. Not because we didn't love each other, but because we were both fighting battles we couldn't win together.
I stood up, feeling the cold emptiness between us. "Carlos… I can't keep doing this." The words left my mouth before I could stop them, the weight of them heavier than I thought.
He looked at me, his face contorting in pain as if I had just struck him.
"I'm not asking you to leave me," I said quickly, my voice shaky. "But I can't keep pretending that we're okay when we're not. I'm not okay, Carlos."
There it was. The truth I had been avoiding. The truth that was now undeniable.
I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't know what choice either of us would make. But I couldn't keep lying to myself.
Carlos was lost in his own world, and I was standing at a crossroads, uncertain of which path to take.
"Then what are you going to do, Heer?" he asked softly.
I looked at him, feeling my heart torn in two.
"I don't know," I whispered. "But I can't stand here and watch you destroy yourself."
And with that, I walked away.
Carlos
Her words were like a slap to my face, and for a moment, I stood there, frozen. I had always thought I was protecting her. I had always thought that if I could just keep her away from this world, from the truth, she would be safe.
But in doing that, I was pushing her away. I was suffocating the only thing that kept me grounded.
She walked away, and I stood there, watching her disappear down the hallway, knowing that I couldn't hold on to her anymore.
I couldn't fix this.