Page 53 of Hate That Blooms

He’s a fucking pendejo if he lets you go. I’m just saying.

You deserve better.

I love him Cora. Like, really love him. But I know that it’s not good for either of us if he can’t get his emotions in check. I wouldn’t feel safe with him being around.

You don’t think he’d lose it in front of Mireya, do you?

No, he adores her. And she loves him too. I can see it in her eyes every time he is around.

Do you think he loves you?

I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out.

* * *

Ire-read every single text he has sent me from the moment my silence started. Texts that he knew I wouldn’t reply to.

I miss the sound of your voice.

I know I’m not supposed to be contacting you, but you are all I think about Gabriela. You are the only woman I see. I’ve been yours since the third grade.

I’m not giving up.

Please don’t give up on me.

[Reina - C.R.O] Give it a listen. Please.

I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

* * *

Christmas Day

The morning light sneaks through the blinds, casting a soft, warm glow over the living room. Mireya’s excited giggles fill the space as she tears into her gifts, her eyes lighting up at each new toy. I smile, watching her, but my heart feels heavy. It’s supposed to be a joyful time—a day of peace—but the silence between me and Joaquín lingers, suffocating.

Cora’s message from last night flashes through my mind again. She’s right, in a way. Idodeserve better. But the weight of the love I feel for him is so intense, so real, that it drowns out any clarity. I still hear his voice, even in the quiet moments, as if he’s standing right beside me, apologizing, asking for forgiveness.

I want to give in so badly.

I try to focus on Mireya’s joy and on the Christmas magic that she brings. But in the background, the echo of his texts is constant, impossible to ignore.

I glance at my phone again, half-expecting another message from him, but nothing new. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I just need time to breathe to let the heartache subside before I can face him again.

Mireya runs over to me, holding up a sparkly pink bracelet she’s made herself, her small hands proudly showing it off. “Look, Mama! I made this for you!” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement.

Mama, my sister, called me Mama. I knew it would happen. I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon. She’s only three, but I know she still remembers mom.

I take the bracelet from her and slip it on my wrist, forcing a smile. “It’s beautiful, baby. Thank you.”

“Can we go to the park later?” she asks, her wide eyes hopeful.

I nod, squeezing her hand. “Of course.”

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings, and I freeze. My heart skips, and I try to shake the anxiety building in my chest. Cora’s face appears at the door, her usual confident smile in place, but I can see the concern in her eyes.

“I thought I’d come by—see how you’re holding up.” She steps inside, glancing around. “Mireya and I have cookies to bake and a whole movie marathon to start.”

“She called me mama,” I whisper, my voice betraying the pain I feel. “I just don't know how to deal with this. With everything.”

---