Page 94 of Back to You
“I won’t.” And this time, I mean it. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain— I’m never going to let go of Sebastian Garcia again.
Anna’s house is quiet when I walk in. A single light from the kitchen spills into the hallway, stretching soft golden hues against the walls, making everything feel smaller. I toe off my shoes by the door.
Her home has always felt lived in, messy in a way that feels real. There’s a blanket draped over the couch, a half-empty glass of water on the coffee table, an old sweatshirt thrown over the back of a chair. It doesn’t feel like a place haunted by absence, not like mine.
I make it halfway to the stairs before I hear her voice.
“You okay?”
I turn over my shoulder. Anna stands at the bottom step, her arms loosely crossed, her head tilted just slightly—she already knows the answer. So do I.
I shake my head. “No.”
She breathes out quietly, her expression shifting—not shocked, not full of pity, just seeing me. “Did you go see him?”
The question makes my breath catch. I drag a hand down my face, my palm rough against my skin. I wish I could say yes, I wish I had the courage. Instead, I let out a sharp, hollow breath.
“No.” I pause, voice raw. “But I saw Andres.”
Anna’s brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t push.
I take a slow step forward, then another. My hands tighten around the wooden banister, grounding me. My mother’s letter is still tucked into my pocket, still pressed against my chest like something sacred, something I can’t let go of.
I swallow hard. “Mami was right.” Somewhere, she’s probably smiling—pleased that I finally figured out what she knew all along. She’s always right. The words don’t just sit in the air, they settle, sink deep. My voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries weight.
I exhale a breath that feels like it carries every ounce of fear I’ve been living in. Every moment, I convinced myself I was better off alone. Every goddamn excuse I let dictate my life.
“I can’t keep running.”
It’s not a realization. It’s a decision.
Anna watches me, waiting, giving me space to find the rest of the words.
I tighten my grip on the banister. My chest constricts, not with fear, but with the truth clawing its way out of me.
“I thought leaving meant I was free of him,” I whisper. “That if I moved on, if I built something new, then what he did to me would stop mattering.” I close my eyes, breathing through the ache rising in my throat. “But I still hear his voice sometimes, Anna. In the back of my head, telling me I’m too much. Too difficult. Too broken.”
Anna’s face softens, something sharp and unspoken passing through her eyes. She steps forward, closing the space between us. “Mariana…”
I shake my head, pushing through. “And I let it hold me back. I let him have power over me, even in death. I let him convince me I was safer alone. But the truth is… I wasn’t protecting myself.” My breath catches. “I was letting him win.”
The words leave my lips like an unraveling thread, like something inside me is finally giving way to something new.
Anna reaches for my hand, squeezing it tight. “Mari, you know that’s not your fault, right?”
I nod, but I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
Anna inhales sharply, shaking her head. “I hate that he still has space in your thoughts. I hate that you carried this alone for so long.” Her voice is quiet but fierce. “But if you’re finally ready to let go of him, to stop letting him have even an ounce of control over you—then, Mari, that’s the strongest thing you could ever do.”
I blink hard, my chest shaking with something that feels a lot like relief.
I lift my chin, forcing myself to say it out loud. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t love him.”
Anna tilts her head slightly, watching me and studying me. Then, quieter now, she says, “So what are you going to do?”
I press my lips together. This time, I don’t hesitate, I don’t question, I don’t let fear answer for me. I straighten, my pulse steady, my chest no longer tight with uncertainty.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to get my man back.”
