Heer
Days passed after that conversation. Days filled with uncertainty, moments of silence, and glances that seemed to say everything without a single word. I could feel Carlos's presence, like a shadow that haunted every room, every part of my life. The house felt cold again—no longer filled with laughter, but with this heavy, oppressive weight. And as much as I wanted to push through, to force the situation to get better, I realized something important.
I had been giving so much of myself to fix Carlos, to fix us, but I was neglecting the most important thing: myself.
I spent the days wandering the halls of our house, feeling like a stranger. My life had become a blur of endless meetings, phone calls, and empty dinners. Carlos was always busy, always working, as though drowning himself in the chaos of the mafia world was his only way of dealing with his demons.
And for a moment, I resented him for it. For shutting me out, for holding onto his past while I stood there, helpless, wanting to be his lifeline. But then, that resentment would fade away the moment I looked at him. His vulnerability, his brokenness—it was something I couldn't ignore, something I could never truly hate.
It was hard. So hard.
I lay in bed one night, staring at the ceiling, trying to shut out the overwhelming thoughts racing through my mind. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think straight. All I could do was listen to the sound of my heartbeat, to the silence in the room, and to the ever-present ache in my chest. It was the emptiness I had never felt before, even though Carlos was just a room away.
My heart felt torn in two.
The door creaked open, and I didn't need to look up to know it was him. I could feel him. His presence, the weight of his gaze, it was all too familiar. I sat up, pulling the covers tighter around myself. The room felt so small, so suffocating.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shaky but resolute.
"I needed to talk to you," Carlos's voice was deep, tinged with exhaustion.
He stepped forward, pausing at the edge of the bed, his eyes searching mine. The look in his eyes was something I couldn't define, but it was raw. And it made the tears that had been threatening to fall well up again.
"I've been avoiding you, Heer," he said quietly, his voice breaking the silence. "I've been avoiding us."
"I know," I whispered. "I've felt it."
"I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to fix me." His voice cracked, and the raw emotion in it made my heart ache.
I didn't answer right away. What could I say? What could I possibly say to that? I knew the answer was simple: I don't know how to fix me either.
Carlos had never been this vulnerable with me. The walls he had built around himself were starting to crumble. But even now, as he stood before me, I could still see the fear in his eyes. The fear that he wasn't enough. The fear that he might not be able to change.
The truth was, I had been afraid of the same thing.
I reached out, taking his hand in mine, pulling him down to sit beside me. There were so many things I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just held him, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease.
"I don't need you to be perfect," I whispered into the silence between us. "I just need you to be here. With me. I need to know that you're willing to try. Willing to fight."
Carlos didn't answer immediately. He just stared at me, as if weighing my words. And then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.
"I'm scared, Heer," he admitted. "I'm scared that I'll hurt you again. That the man I am... will destroy everything we have."
"I'm scared too," I said softly, pulling him closer. "But if we don't try, if we don't take the risk, we'll never know what we could be together."
"I've been holding on to my past," Carlos continued, his voice low. "To the things I can't escape. The mafia. The blood. The violence. And every time I think about you, about us, I wonder if I'll be able to leave it all behind. I don't want to drag you into that world. You deserve more than this."
I knew what he was saying. I knew that the world he was a part of was dangerous, was filled with so much darkness, that it was impossible to imagine a future without it. But I also knew something else—he was capable of more. He was capable of love. He had shown me that.
I could feel his pain, his fear, and I understood it. But it wasn't enough for him to remain a prisoner of his past. I needed him to fight for his future. I needed him to fight for us.
"Carlos…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "I can't promise that everything will be easy. I can't promise that there won't be more fights, more hurt. But I can promise that I will stand by you. That I won't walk away. Not now. Not ever."
He turned to me, his eyes full of uncertainty, but also a spark of something I hadn't seen in a long time—hope.
"I'm so scared, Heer," he whispered again, his voice barely audible.
"I know you are," I replied softly. "But we don't have to face it alone."
And for the first time in a long time, I saw a glimmer of peace in his eyes. The storm in his soul hadn't disappeared, but at least now, we could weather it together.
Carlos
Her words were a lifeline. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear them, how much I needed her to say that she was willing to fight with me.
For so long, I had been afraid of pulling her into my world, afraid of the consequences of loving me. I had built up this wall between us, thinking I was protecting her, when all I had done was isolate us both.
But now, as I sat there beside her, holding her hand, I realized something. I didn't need to be perfect. I didn't need to have all the answers. What I needed was to be with her. To be real. To be honest. To choose her, even when it scared the hell out of me.
"Okay," I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. "Okay. I will try. I will fight for us, Heer."
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, we could find our way out of the darkness. Together.