<b>Chapter </b><b>150 </b>


    The Present.


    Nivera turned sharply on her heel, or at least she thought she did.


    In truth, her movement was more of swaying, her bnce shaky as the wine in her hand sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the ss.


    Alejandro caught the sway with narrowed eyes, a frown creasing his brow


    <b>as </b>


    he stepped into the living room.


    slur betraying her state.


    “Go away,” Nivera muttered, her words clipped but blurred at the


    Alejandro’s gaze sharpened. “Are you drunk?”


    “No,” she snapped quickly, lifting the ss to her lips with a stubborn tilt


    of


    her


    chin.


    The denial wasughable, but Alejandro didn’tugh. He stood there, watching her, and for a moment, he hated himself–hated the way the tight, suffocating grip in his chest seemed to ease the instant his eyesnded on her.


    He should have been furious. He should have reprimanded her and told her how reckless and childish she had acted. But instead, as his eyes traced over her face, her flushed cheeks, her slightly zed eyes–he felt something else.


    He was just… relieved.


    “Nivera,” he muttered, his voice lower, quieter than he intended.


    Nivera, in her wine–dazed state, didn’t seem to notice his stare or hear him call out to her.


    Instead, she drained what was left in her ss and reached for another bottle on


    the


    low table beside her.


    Alejandro’s jaw ticked as he moved in, his long strides closing the distance in seconds.


    “That’s enough,” he said, his hand shooting out to take the bottle from her.


    Nivera blinked at him, swaying again, then pouted. “Hey–give that back. You don’t tell me what to do.”


    He set the bottle out of reach. “No. “You’ve had enough.”


    Her lips parted, her brows drawing together in outrage. “Fine,” she muttered before stumbling toward the bar cart and grabbing another one.


    She uncorked it with clumsy fingers, shooting him a triumphant look before taking a long gulp.


    Alejandro pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “You’re impossible.”


    If she wanted to get drunk, then she should, after all, he wasn’t the one who would wake up with a hangover.


    “And you’re-” she jabbed a finger at him, wine bottle still clutched in her other hand, “-a jerk.”


    He froze at the venom in her tone.


    “You treated me like shit for no reason!” she blurted out, voice cracking, anger and hurt spilling together.


    “You–one moment, you’re… you’re this big arsehole who belittles me, makes me feel small, And then-” she hupped, pressing the heel <i>of </i>her hand against her eye, “-then in the next moment, you do something kind. Something… gentle. And it makes me hate myself for wanting to believe in it.”


    “You push me away every time I try–and I don’t know why! I didn’t do anything to you, Alejandro. Nothing!”


    Alejandro’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected this–well, wasn’t that what alcoholdid?. It made people open up.


    <b>1/3 </b>


    “And even if I did, you could have just talked to me like a normal person instead of doing this


    “Why“, her voice wavered, and this time it was barely above a whisper, “do you make it so hard to keep defending you?“.


    And then the first tear fell, followed by the second, and then more followed.


    Alejandro’s eyes went wide. His heart mmed against his ribs, horror sippling through him. This was the second time he’d seen her cry. And this time was worse- as he was the reason.


    And in an instant, memory wed him back to a younger version of himself.


    He was ten years old again, standing in the doorway of his parents‘ bedroom, watching his father’s rage reduce his mother to tears.


    He remembered the way her sobs had filled the room, the helplessness in his small chest.


    That day, he’d promised her–sworn with all the determination of a child–that he would never, never make a woman cry.


    And here he was.


    His mother’s words wed at him, sharp and merciless: “You are not your father. But if you keep this up, and you are well on your way to bing him.”


    Alejandro’s chest constricted painfully as he realized his mother was right. In a bid not to be like Miguel, he was bing him.


    “Nivera,” Alejandro whispered hoarsely, crouching in front of Nivera as she sat heavily on the edge of the couch, tears dripping down her cheeks.


    He pulled the bottle gently from her grasp, setting it aside before reaching out, his thumb brushing away the wet trails on her skin.


    Nivera blinked at him through ssy eyes, a drunken little frown marring her expression. “Don’t… don’t wipe them away. You made them fall”


    The words speared him straight through the chest. He had no defence against them.


    And then she kept talking, her drunken filter nonexistent, her rambling a stream of everything she’d kept locked away.


    “Do you even realize what you’re doing to me? Do you?” She huped softly, thenughed bitterly. “I hate this. I hate you. And I love you. God, I can’t believe I love you, and it’s so stupid because you don’t believe in love, do you? You don’t even care-


    Alejandro froze. His hand stilled on her cheek, every muscle in his body going rigid.


    She loved him.


    Panic. That was his first instinct. No woman had ever been allowed to say those words to him without him recoiling in disgust, without irritation coiling in his gut. But this time…


    He didn’t feel irritated.


    He didn’t feel angry.


    He just felt… unsettled. Confused. Like her words had unraveled something in him, he hadn’t


    Her confession made everything harder.


    Nivera sighed, her shoulders slumping. “But you don’t believe in love, do you? Which means… I’m just signing myself up to have my heart broken.”


    Alejandro’s throat tightened.


    She tilted her head, her eyes drooping, her words slurring but still sharp enough to cut. “If you’re not going to love me, then… then the least you can do is go away. Leave me alone. So I can get over you.”


    He flinched as though she’d struck him. Well, she might as well, as the idea of leaving her–<b>of </b>staying away–sat wrong in every part of him.


    212


    <b>08:10 </b>Mon, Sept


    “You should never have been nice to me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “Never… smiled at me. Never arched <b>ine </b>like I mattered. You should have just stayed the jerk you were from the start,”


    Alejandro’s hand lingered against her cheek, his thumb tracing lightly, helplessly, <b>as </b>if trying to undo every tear, every word she’d just spiffed.


    Her voice grew softer, hershes lowering. “Because now… I don’t know how to stop wanting you, wishing silently that you’d love me back<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    Her words ended in a quiet sigh.


    The thought of leaving her–of walking away–hit him like ice. He imagined her without him, imagined her smile turned toward someone else, and imagined her moving on.


    And it felt wrong. All wrong.


    He opened his mouth, searching for words, for anything tofort her drunken heartbreak, but before he could, Nivera’s head dipped and her body swayed, the fight in her draining all at once as sleep overtook her atst.


    Alejandro sat there for a long moment, frozen in the heavy silence of the room. His chest felt tight again–but it wasn’t the suffocating pressure he’d carried before. This was different.


    He exhaled slowly, his hand drifting to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.


    “Damn you, Nivera,” he whispered, his voice low, hoarse.


    And more importantly, damn him for hurting her.


    Carefully, he rose and carried her into the first room he came across.


    Pulling a nket over her, he stood back and lingered, his dark eyes taking in the sight of her sleeping face, the tear stains still faintly glistening on her cheeks.


    And then, with a sigh that sounded too much like defeat, Alejandro turned and walked out of the room to finish the drink Nivera had opened.