Page 89 of Back to You
I step inside, but I don’t sit. I don’t shake off my coat. I just stand there, tension coiled in every muscle, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down hard.
Anna watches me closely, her arms still crossed, her foot tapping once against the floor. She doesn’t like waiting, and I don’t blame her. But shit, I need a second—just one more second before I do this, before I hand over the one thing I’ve been holding onto for too long.
I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out the envelope, and hold it out. Anna frowns, taking it. The paper is soft from wear, the edges slightly bent, her fingertips run over the handwriting, and her face changes. She knows this handwriting. She knows it as well as her own; her breath catches.
She looks up at me, her voice quieter now. "What is this?"
I swallow hard. "It’s from her mom."
The air between us shifts. Anna’s chest pulls tight, her pulse hammers. I can see it all over her face.
Her eyes drop to the letter, and a quiet breath shudders out of her. “This isn’t how she should be getting this.” The words are barely more than a whisper, like they hurt to say.
She swallows hard, arms wrapping around herself like she’s bracing for impact. “A letter from her mom–” her voice catches, and she shakes her head. “She shouldn’t have to read this like this. Not now, Not when she’s already carrying so much.”
Her fingers twitch at her sides, but she doesn’t reach for the letter yet. Instead, she takes a small step back, distancing herself from the letter as if it’s a live wire, something too dangerous to touch.
I exhale, my voice rough, uneven. “Her mom gave it to me before she passed.”
A pause. A breath. A hesitation.
“She told me to give it to Mariana when she needed it.” And now, she fucking needs it.
Anna finally reaches for the letter, her fingers tightening around it. It’s just paper, just ink, but it might as well be a bomb. Because once Mariana reads this? There is no going back.
Anna’s voice barely makes it past her lips. "Sebastian…"
I shake my head. "I know."
Her voice wavers. "You’re asking me to break her open."
My jaw tightens, pulse hammering. Then, my voice drops lower, rougher, but steady. "I’m asking you to help her."
She doesn’t move, doesn’t argue, she just stares at me. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking about how fragile Mariana is. She’s thinking about how hard it’s been to watch her shut everyone out. She’s thinking about how much damage this could do.
She looks at me, and I realize—This isn’t just about Mariana. It’s about me, too. Because I still love her, I will always love her, and because I am fucking desperate for a sign that she still loves me, too.
Anna swallows hard. Then, soft, barely above a whisper. "Do you still want her, Seb?"
My eyes snap to hers, and I don’t hesitate. "Always."
CHAPTER 41
Mariana
Anna’s apartment smelled like warm spices and home, not the home we grew up in—but hers.
A place she had made her own, with mismatched throw pillows on the couch, framed pictures of us on the walls, and candles that always smelled like sweet orange and agave.
It was cozy, lived-in, welcoming, yet something about being here tonight felt off. The air carried more weight than it should; it felt like I wasn’t just here for dinner.
She moved around the kitchen like she always did—effortless, focused, pulling ingredients from the fridge, chopping onions with quick, practiced movements. The sizzle of garlic hitting hot oil filled the space, mixing with the scent of stewed tomatoes and sofrito.
I sat at the kitchen table, watching her, and she watched me too. Not obviously. Not in a way that would make me call her out for hovering, but she was watching, checking—making sure I was here, making sure I was eating, making sure I wasn’t just sitting in this chair pushing food around my plate like I had no appetite for anything anymore.
Anna was observant like that; she had always known when I was hurting, even when I wasn’t ready to talk about it, even when I wanted to pretend I was fine.
I sighed, shifting in my chair. "Anna, you didn’t have to do all this."
