Updated Feb 20, 2026 • ~7 min read
WESTLEY
I shouldn’t have buzzed her in.
But hearing her voice—
Damn it.
There’s a knock on my door.
I take a breath.
Open it.
She looks terrible.
Dark circles under her eyes. Hair pulled into a messy bun. She’s lost weight.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi.”
We stand there awkwardly.
“Can I come in?”
I step aside.
She walks past me and I catch her scent.
Coffee and vanilla.
It hurts.
LUCIA
His apartment is a disaster.
Nothing like the clean, organized space I remember.
“Sorry about the mess,” he mutters.
“It’s fine.”
We sit.
Him in the chair. Me on the couch.
Maximum distance.
“You said five minutes.”
Right. Five minutes to fix a month of lies.
“I met Carmen. In Phoenix.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“And?”
“And she told me why she left you. The real reason.”
“Witness protection. You already told me.”
“But did you understand what that means? She saw a murder, West. A mob hit. She testified. The people she testified against—they’re still looking for her.”
He’s listening now.
“She left you because staying would have put you in danger. She loved you enough to let you go.”
“That’s not love. That’s abandonment.”
“She was protecting you.”
“Did she ask me if I wanted protection? Did she give me a choice?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
I take a breath.
“You’re right. She should have told you. Should have let you decide together. But she was scared and she made a choice.”
“What does this have to do with you?” he asks. “With what you did?”
Everything.
Nothing.
“I wanted you to understand that Carmen didn’t leave because she didn’t love you. She left because she did.”
“Okay. I understand. Is that all?”
No.
It’s not all.
“I know you hate me. And you have every right to. But I need you to know something.”
He waits.
“When I didn’t correct you that first day—it wasn’t because I wanted to trick you. It was because for one moment, I wanted to know what it felt like to be seen. To be the one someone was looking for.”
“So you used me.”
“Yes. At first. But then I got to know you. And I fell in love with you. Really, truly in love.”
“With the version of me that thought you were someone else.”
“No. With you. The man who talks about buildings like they’re poetry. Who cares about his family. Who forgives people even when they don’t deserve it.”
Tears are streaming down my face.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know what I did was unforgivable. But I needed you to know that my feelings were real.”
WESTLEY
She’s crying.
And I want to comfort her.
Even now. Even after everything.
“Your five minutes are up.”
She flinches.
Stands.
“Thank you for listening.”
She walks to the door.
Hand on the knob.
“Lucia.”
She turns.
Hope in her eyes.
“I believe you. About your feelings.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I don’t think you’re a good enough actress to fake what I saw.”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“Does that mean—”
“It doesn’t mean anything. I believe your feelings were real. But that doesn’t change what you did.”
The hope dies.
“I understand.”
“I need time. To process. To figure out how I feel.”
“How much time?”
I don’t know.
“I’ll let you know.”
It’s not the answer she wants.
But it’s the only one I have.
LUCIA
I leave West’s apartment with a sliver of hope.
He didn’t forgive me.
But he didn’t slam the door either.
Paloma is waiting at my apartment.
“Well?”
“He believes my feelings were real.”
“That’s good!”
“But he still needs time.”
“That’s… less good.”
I collapse on the couch.
“What if he decides he can’t forgive me?”
“Then you respect that and move on.”
“I don’t know how to move on from him.”
Paloma sits next to me.
“You will. If you have to. But maybe you won’t have to.”
“You think he’ll forgive me?”
“I think he’s thinking about it. Which is more than I expected.”
She’s right.
It is more than I expected.
My phone buzzes.
Email from Carmen.
How did it go?
I type back:
I don’t know yet. He’s thinking.
Her response is immediate:
That’s a good sign. West doesn’t think unless he’s considering something.
Give him space.
And Lucia? I’m proud of you for trying.
I screenshot the message.
Save it.
Because I might need the reminder that someone is proud of me.
WESTLEY
Tate comes over.
Surveys the apartment.
“Did a tornado hit?”
“Something like that.”
He starts gathering empty bottles.
“I can clean my own apartment.”
“Clearly not.”
I help him.
We work in silence for a while.
“Lucia came by,” I finally say.
Tate stops.
“And?”
“And she explained. About Carmen. About why she did what she did.”
“Did it help?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“What did she say?”
I tell him everything.
When I finish, Tate leans against the counter.
“So let me get this straight. She wanted to feel seen. She made a stupid decision. She fell in love. And now she’s trying to make it right.”
“Basically.”
“Sounds human to me.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. She’s not a villain, West. She’s just a person who made a mistake.”
“A big mistake.”
“Yeah. But we’ve all made those.”
I think about my own mistakes.
The times I screwed up.
The people I hurt.
“What would you do? If you were me?”
Tate considers.
“I’d ask myself if the relationship we had—lies aside—was worth fighting for.”
“And if it was?”
“Then I’d figure out if I could trust her again.”
Trust.
That’s the real question.
Can I trust someone who lied to me from day one?
“I don’t know if I can.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”
LUCIA
A week passes.
Then two.
No word from West.
I go back to work.
Back to my routine.
But everything feels hollow.
Customers order lattes.
I make them.
Smile.
Pretend I’m fine.
“You look sad,” a regular tells me.
“Just tired.”
“Heartbreak tired or regular tired?”
I laugh despite myself.
“Is there a difference?”
“Nope. Both suck.”
After my shift, I go home.
Write.
Not the romance novel I was working on.
Something darker. More honest.
A story about a girl who pretends to be someone she’s not.
And loses everything.
My phone rings.
Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Lucia? It’s Jonah. West’s brother.”
My heart stops.
“Is West okay?”
“He’s fine. I was actually calling about something else.”
“Okay…”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For investigating you. For not giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
I’m stunned.
“You don’t owe me an apology. You were protecting your brother.”
“Still. I was harsh. And after talking to West, I understand better why you did what you did.”
“He talked to you about me?”
“He talks about you constantly. Whether he wants to or not.”
Hope flutters in my chest.
“What does he say?”
“That’s between him and me. But Lucia?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t give up on him yet.”
Then he hangs up.
WESTLEY
I’m at the project site.
The community center is finished.
Grand opening next week.
I walk through the empty building.
Thinking about all the conversations Lucia and I had about it.
How excited she was.
How she looked at my work like it mattered.
“She really did love this place,” I say out loud.
My voice echoes in the empty hall.
I pull out my phone.
Scroll to her number.
Hover over the call button.
What would I even say?
I’m still angry.
But I’m also…
Something else.
Lonely.
I’m lonely without her.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Mom.
Mom: Dinner Sunday? Bring whoever you want.
Whoever I want.
I stare at the message.
Then I do something crazy.
I text Lucia.
West: Want to come to family dinner Sunday?
I hit send before I can overthink it.
Three dots appear immediately.
Then disappear.
Then appear again.
Finally:
Lucia: Are you sure?
Me: No. But come anyway.
Another long pause.
Lucia: Okay.
What am I doing?
I don’t know.
But I’m doing it anyway.
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