Heer
The days felt like a blur after that night. Every time I thought about Carlos's coldness, about how he had shut me out completely, my chest tightened with pain. There was an ache that settled in my heart, a pain that wasn't just from the things I didn't know—but from the things I did.
I had been a fool, hadn't I? I had thought I understood him. I had thought that, no matter how deep his world went, no matter how dark his actions became, there would always be a place for me.
But now, I wasn't sure anymore. I wasn't sure about us.
Every glance he gave me now was distant, like he was looking past me—through me, almost. It was as though he was keeping something from me, something important. I could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to suffocate.
We were no longer just strangers forced into a marriage for business reasons. The lines between who we were and who we were supposed to be had blurred. And now, I was lost in that fog.
I tried to talk to him. I tried to reach out, but the distance between us seemed impossible to cross.
The one thing that was clear to me was that I needed to understand. I needed to know why things had gotten so far out of hand. I needed to know why Carlos had become a man I couldn't recognize.
It was one evening, after dinner, when I saw him staring at his phone, his eyes narrowed, his face etched with frustration.
"Carlos?" I asked softly, standing by the doorway of the living room.
He didn't look up immediately, his attention still fixed on the screen in front of him. There was something about the way he looked—something broken. For a moment, I thought I saw guilt flash in his eyes. But it was gone before I could fully make sense of it.
"Yes?" he finally answered, not meeting my gaze.
I hesitated, unsure of how to approach him. But I couldn't hold back any longer. I had to know what was going on.
"Talk to me," I said, my voice shaking. "Please. I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore. I need you to be honest with me."
Carlos's hand gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. For a long moment, he just stared at it, his breathing shallow.
Finally, he stood up, his voice strained.
"You don't understand, Heer. You don't know what it's like to have everything you've built, everything you've worked for, threatened by the people you trust the most."
"Then make me understand," I replied, my voice firm. "Don't shut me out. Don't keep me in the dark."
He took a step toward me, his eyes suddenly filled with frustration and pain.
"I can't make you understand," he said, his voice rising. "This isn't a world you can just walk into and pretend like you know how to navigate it. People die for less than what's happening right now. You want me to be honest with you? Fine. Here it is. My world is built on blood and lies, and there's no way out. Not for me. Not for you."
The words hit me like a slap. His anger, his desperation—it was all right there, on the surface. But it wasn't just about the mafia anymore. It wasn't just about the betrayal or the violence.
It was about him.
Carlos wasn't just a man drowning in his world. He was a man drowning in his own choices. And I couldn't help him, not if he didn't want to be helped.
"You're wrong," I whispered, stepping closer to him. "You don't have to do this alone."
His eyes flashed with something I couldn't identify. Was it hope? Or just a fleeting moment of weakness? Whatever it was, it vanished too quickly.
"You're not part of this world, Heer," he said softly, almost like a warning. "I'm trying to protect you. From all of it."
"Protect me from what?" I asked, my voice louder now. "What's the point of all of this if you're just going to push me away? I don't want to be a part of your mafia, Carlos. But I want to be a part of you."
His expression hardened, like I had just spoken in a language he didn't understand. His gaze was distant, like he was seeing something far beyond me, far beyond anything I could reach.
"You don't understand what it means to be loyal to people like this," he said, his tone low and cold. "The consequences are not something you can just walk away from. There are lines that are drawn in blood, Heer. And once you cross them, there's no going back. I've already made my choice. And I can't undo what's been done."
"You can," I whispered, fighting back tears. "You can still choose to be better. You can choose a life with me. I don't care about the mafia. I care about you."
For a brief moment, I thought I saw something shift in him—something flicker in his eyes. But before I could grasp it, he turned away, as though my words were too heavy to bear.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice full of regret. "I can't promise you that, Heer. Not anymore."
Carlos
Her words stabbed me harder than I expected. Every time she spoke, I felt like she was pulling me away from the very thing that had defined me for years. Every time she looked at me like I was something worth saving, I felt like I was betraying her.
She didn't understand. She couldn't.
There was no way to escape this life, not without losing everything. Not without losing her.
But the more I saw her, standing there—vulnerable, yet strong—the more I realized that I was the one losing. Losing the chance at something I hadn't known I wanted.
Loyalty. It was the one thing I had always prided myself on. But what had loyalty gotten me? A world of enemies. A world of violence. A world that had taken everything from me—almost everything.
I couldn't keep her in this, not after everything I had done. Not after everything I was capable of.
But the way she looked at me, the way she believed in me, made it feel like I had a choice.
I didn't. Or did I?
Heer
I stood there, watching him. The man who had become both my anchor and my storm. His silence was louder than anything he could have said.
"I love you," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Carlos stiffened, his back still turned to me.
"I'm sorry, Heer," he said again, the weight of his apology hanging in the air. "I can't do this."
The finality in his voice broke something in me.
"I love you," I repeated, this time louder, more desperate. "And that's what I'm trying to say. No matter what happens, I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to let you fall apart by yourself. We can fight this. We can get through it. But you have to let me in, Carlos. You have to let me help."
His shoulders slumped, and for the first time in days, I saw a flicker of emotion—a vulnerability I had never seen from him before. His eyes closed, and his head dropped, as if he was letting the weight of his choices collapse onto him.
"I don't deserve you, Heer," he whispered.
"You do," I said, moving closer. "You just have to believe it."