Manuel

One day, Pedro asked me to visit his office. When I arrived, Pedro and Louis were already waiting for me.

"Manuel, we called you here because we need to tell you something important," Pedro said, his expression serious. I wondered what they had to say.

"You need to take a break for a year," Pedro continued, looking directly at me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

Louis jumped in, clarifying, "I'll make it clear. You need to stay away from Enzo for a year. He's become too close to you, and we're not comfortable with it. You're treating him like a toddler, even though he's 18 now. So, you can go home and take a year off until we call you back. Don't worry about your salary; you're not fired. Just take some time with your family."

It felt like something was lodged in my throat, choking me.

"But, boss," I tried to protest.

"No buts, no questions. No negotiations," Louis replied firmly. "You can pack up your things and leave right now. And hand over your work phone before you go. We'll set you up with a new phone and number. Do not try to contact Enzo for a year, and don't tell him you're leaving."

"I'm not even allowed to say goodbye to him?" I asked, shocked.

"No, you are not," Louis replied coldly. "He doesn't know about this yet, so do as we say. If you break any of these rules, the time period will be even longer. Be a good boy and follow instructions. If Enzo asks why you're packing, just tell him you're going on your usual vacation."

I returned to my room with a heavy heart, reluctantly packing my belongings. I kept hoping Enzo would come by, just so I could hug him one last time before I left. Please come, Enzo. Please... before I leave. But he never came. With a sinking feeling, I took my bags and made my way to Pedro's house.

"Here's your new phone with a new number. And don't even think about calling Enzo," Pedro said, handing me the phone. "We're changing his phone and number, too, so neither of you will know the other's new contact."

I felt so small, swallowed by the weight of their authority and the power money could wield. I felt pathetic.

"But what if he thinks I just left him? Or—what if he gets mad at me for not saying goodbye?" I asked Pedro, barely able to keep the pleading tone out of my voice.

"We'll tell him it was our decision," Pedro replied, his face as unreadable as ever.

—-----

I went home without telling Rachel I was coming.

"Manuel," she said, surprised to see me at the door. After all, it wasn't a scheduled vacation day.

"Got a very long vacation," I replied, forcing a smile.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, her gaze drifting to my bags. "Did they fire you?"

"No, just a long vacation," I reassured her, trying to sound casual. "I'll still get paid."

I carried my bags into the house and took them to my room.

My stomach clenched with a sadness I couldn't shake. I felt strange and empty. How am I supposed to get by without hearing his voice? This feels like a punishment—a brutal one. I wasn't ready for this.

But I had a secret no one knew. Although I wasn't supposed to take any photos of him, I had kept them since he was little. I knew I'd miss his childhood once he grew up. So, as someone who never cared much for rules, I took plenty of photos—some of just him, some of both of us—and instead of uploading them to the cloud, I emailed them to myself. It felt safer that way. I'd built up quite a collection, even recording some of his adorable, silly moments. Now, when I needed to, I could hear his voice again in those videos. When he was younger, singing songs or talking in that cute, innocent way, I'd record it all on my phone. I was glad I'd kept those memories close; maybe they'd help me get through the next few days.

"You look tired," Rachel said, coming into the room and wrapping an arm around my waist. She must've mistaken my frustration and sadness for simple exhaustion.

"A bit tired," I replied.

"Where's Miguel?" I asked.

"He went out to play with his friends. He'd play all day if I let him, but I only give him a few hours," Rachel said, sighing. "Sometimes, he doesn't listen to me."

"You don't have to worry about that now," I said, smiling.

Manuel

"Miguel, give me a hug," I said firmly. He rarely gave me hugs like Enzo used to. Miguel was 14 now, and when Enzo was that age—even when he was 18—he'd still hug me without hesitation. Miguel was so different.

Reluctantly, Miguel came closer, leaned in with an annoyed expression, and gave me a quick hug.
"This is the tenth one today," he muttered, sounding irritated.

"So what? I'm your papa. Is it that hard to give me a hug? Do you feel disgusted by me?" I snapped, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.

"I'm not disgusted," he said, pulling away almost instantly, "but I've already given you tons of hugs. Ever since you got home, that's all I've been doing. Why do you need so many? I'm not a toddler." Without waiting, he returned to his chair, leaving me feeling even more hollow.

I missed Enzo so much in that moment. Honestly, it felt like I was on the edge of losing it. My only ways to hold it together were hugging Miguel, being close to my wife, exercising, or going out for a drink. Watching TV alone was torture; Enzo and I used to watch it together all the time, and every time I turned it on, the emptiness got worse. Miguel didn't even join me anymore; he hated it when I put my arm around him. He was fine with Rachel hugging and cuddling him, but with me, he was distant. It hurt deeply.

I wasn't allowed to call Enzo. His phone was already disconnected, and it felt like my heart was burning. I wanted to scream, to cry out loud. The pain was so overwhelming, it had turned physical. Sometimes, I'd force myself to exercise just to keep the weight of depression at bay. But Rachel and Miguel didn't understand what I was going through. I didn't think they ever could.

"Manuel, take a one-year vacation. Don't call Enzo or try to contact him during this year," Pedro's words echoed in my mind.

"But why, boss?" I'd asked, shocked.

"Enzo is no longer a kid, and he needs to learn to live without you. You two need to be apart for a year," Pedro had replied.

"But he's hurting right now because of his breakup. He needs someone who cares," I said, desperate.

"Don't worry about that," he said, unbothered. "He'll be with me and Louis for the whole year. We'll keep an eye on him. Now, hand over your work phone."

"Boss, am I fired?" My voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

"No, you're not. You'll return in a year, and we'll keep paying you," he said, taking my phone from my hand. In that moment, I felt drained, as if I didn't even have the strength to stand.

"Can I see him before I leave?" My voice was so weak that I wondered if they heard me. I felt exhausted, as if I could collapse at any moment.

Pedro looked at Louis, and both of them turned their gazes toward me.

"Please, boss," I begged, feeling tears welling in my eyes.

"What's wrong with you, man? This is just for a year. I don't understand you," Louis said. You would understand this if someone took your son away from you for a year, you heartless dog.

"We can't do that," Pedro replied, and Louis nodded in agreement.

"Manuel, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I came to my senses upon hearing Rachel's voice and quickly wiped my tears away.

"Where's Miguel?" I asked, noticing he wasn't on the couch.

"He went out to play with his friends," Rachel said. I held Rachel's hand and asked her to sit on my lap, and she complied. I leaned in to kiss her, and she kissed me back. As my kiss grew more passionate, she giggled, and we had sex for the second time that day.

"Do you feel better now?" Rachel asked, looking at me with her hair messily tousled from my fingers running through it.

"Yeah, it's enough for a few hours, I guess," I said, lighting a cigarette without bothering to put on any clothes yet.

"Why don't you tell me your problem so you'll feel relieved, or maybe I can help you?" she suggested.

"You wouldn't understand," I replied, blowing out smoke.

"Okay then. Just make sure to wear clothes before Miguel comes back," Rachel said, turning to leave. I watched her walk away, her sexy hips swaying.

"Nice hips you've got," I called out.

"What?" She looked back at me, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"You heard me," I said, leaning back on the couch and blowing out smoke.

"Are you catcalling me?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face. Damn, she looked sexy.

"Hmm," I replied, blowing smoke again.

Rachel was happy these days since I was giving most of my attention to her. I had been kissing her in bed at night.

"We better sleep now. I need to wake up in the morning to make food for Miguel," Rachel said.

"You don't have to do that. I'll do it," I offered.

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, really," I confirmed.

It was good to keep myself as busy as possible until this year was over.