I almost knocked.
I almost gave in to the impulse to go in and make the suffering stop—the suffering I had caused.
But I didn’t.
Because I knew.
If I walked into that room right now, I wouldn’t have the control I needed. I had no idea what I’d do. What I’d promise. What I’d give.
If Valentina looked at me with those dark, wounded eyes—
If she asked me for anything in that moment—
I would give her the world.
Even if I was still determined to destroy hers.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the frustration and guilt burning in my throat. I drew in a breath, the anguish threatening to suffocate me.
And then I whispered—so low it was almost nothing—a whisper meant for myself, for the night, and for her if some miracle carried it through the door.
“I’m here,” I muttered, rough. “For fuck’s sake…”
Valentina didn’t answer.
She kept crying, inconsolable, separated from me by a door I didn’t have the courage to open.
I turned away slowly, every muscle in my body tight and exhausted, and walked back to my bedroom like a coward.
Like a man who had failed—deeply—and would never admit it out loud.
Like a man who felt too much and hated himself for feeling at all.
Like a man listening to the woman he once loved cry behind a closed door… and not being brave enough to open it.
The house was swallowed by near-total quiet—quiet that should have been comforting, but instead made the chaos in my head louder whenever Valentina was near.
I went up to the TV room and stopped in the doorway, my steps catching when I saw her on the couch.
Valentina looked absorbed, legs tucked beneath her, a thin throw blanket pulled to her waist. The remote in her hand. On the screen—a romantic comedy she’d probably claim to hate if I asked.
She didn’t look up right away.
Or maybe she pretended not to see me.
I should have walked past.
I knew that.
But the need to provoke her—irrational and corrosive—was stronger than it should’ve been. A craving I didn’t like recognizing.
Neither of us had spoken about what happened two nights ago. We’d eaten dinner together since, but she didn’t know I’d heard her cry, and in theory I didn’t know she had.
Or that it had broken something inside me.
I walked in without a word and sat on the couch beside her.
Too close.
