The night Jey walked out, it felt like the walls of their home cracked with every step he took. Isa didn't cry. Not in front of him. Not when he packed his bags. Not when he kissed Sofia and Mateo goodbye. Not even when he stood in the doorway, looking at her like he was waiting for her to stop him.

She wouldn't. She couldn't.

"You sure this is what you want?" she asked, arms crossed, voice steady. She refused to break, even when her heart was shattering.

Jey sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "I don't know what I want, Isa. That's the problem."

No, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that they had stopped fighting for each other. Somewhere between late nights, missed calls, and unspoken resentment, they had lost themselves.

"I can't keep doing this," Jey finally said. "I don't wanna keep hurting you."

The words cut deeper than she expected. Because for the first time, Isa realized—he thought leaving was mercy. That breaking their family apart was better than trying to fix it.

So she nodded. "Then go."

And he did.

The twins were too young to understand, but they felt it. Sofia clung to Isa that night, her tiny fingers gripping her shirt like she was afraid she'd disappear too. Mateo stayed quiet, too much like his father, bottling it all in.

Jey left, and Isa stayed behind, surrounded by the ghosts of what they used to be.

Months passed. The heartbreak settled into something dull, something Isa learned to live with. They co-parented, kept things civil, found a rhythm.

Then came Carmen Vega.

At first, Isa didn't care. Jey was free to do whatever he wanted. But Carmen made sure she was seen. She never hid her intentions, never backed down, and the moment she realized Jey still had a connection with Isa—she turned her attention to the twins.

That's when the real fight began.