I walk home. I just grab my bag and go. My body moves on instinct, my breath shaky but steady as I step out into the cold night air. The streets are quiet, mostly empty. Streetlights cast long, lonely shadows against the pavement.

By the time I reach my house, my legs feel heavy. My arms feel numb. My face still stings, and my head is a mess of emotions I don't want to sort through. I push the door open, step inside, and lock it behind me.

I thought I would cry, but I don't, even as the silence presses against me. I take off my shoes, drop my bag by the door, and head to my room. I peel off the hoodie, toss it onto my chair, and finally catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Not even a mark. He really didn't hit me that hard. It was just a smack. Just a sting that was meant to told me 'suck it up and listen'.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The first thing I see when I wake up is my phone screen lighting up. I stare at it, still half-asleep, before finally grabbing my phone and unlocking it.

10 Missed Calls
49 Messages

I don't open them right away. I just scroll through the notifications, seeing bits and pieces of what Dariel's saying.

Luciana, please answer me.
Where are you?
I'm sorry.
Please just talk to me.
I know I fucked up, but please don't ignore me.
I'm so sorry.

I exhale, pressing my fingers against my temple. My head is pounding, as well as my heart.

I scroll back up, hesitating for a second before opening the messages.

He said everything I expected him to say. He's sorry. He didn't mean it. He wasn't thinking. He fucked up. He hates himself for it.

Last night, I was angry. I wasn't just arguing—I was provoking him. I could see it in his face, the way he was getting more and more frustrated, and I didn't stop. I pushed him.

I know what he did was wrong. I know that no matter what I said, he shouldn't have put his hands on me. But I wasn't innocent in that moment. I wanted to hurt him. Not physically, but with my words, my actions. I wanted to break him down because I was mad, because I wanted him to feel as bad as I did.

I acted like a child.

I inhale deeply, letting the thought settle.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but something stops me. A weight in my chest, making me hesitate. I set the phone down on my nightstand and stare up at the ceiling instead.

I need to be honest with myself first. I'm not excusing what he did. I'm not brushing it off. But I also can't pretend I was some innocent victim who had no part in making things worse. I could've walked away. I could've de-escalated. But I didn't.

And the worst part is, I barely even remember what we were arguing about. Not really. I remember the emotions, but the actual words? The reason it all started, I know that, but what we were then arguing about? It's already slipping from my mind.

So was it even worth it?

Dariel loves me. He loves me so much it scares him, and last night, I used that against him. I twisted it into something ugly, knowing it would hurt him, knowing it would make him feel like he wasn't enough.

My stomach churns. I reach for my phone again, staring at his name at the top of the messages. I scroll through them one more time, rereading the parts where he calls himself a piece of shit, where he says he hates himself, where he begs me to just talk to him.

He doesn't try to justify it. He doesn't say 'but you...' or 'if you hadn't...'

He just says he's sorry.

I have to talk to him. Not because I forgive him but because I need to take responsibility, too. If we just pretend last night didn't happen, it's going to eat at us until there's nothing left.

I grab my phone again, but I still don't know what to say.

I shouldn't have pushed you.

No, that sounds like I'm excusing him. I delete it.

I need to talk to you.

Too vague.

I exhale slowly, then type carefully.

I'm not ready to forgive you yet. But I was wrong, too. I pushed you when I shouldn't have. I don't want to fight like that ever again. We can talk about it and I promise I'll be more mature.

I hesitate for a second, then hit send. The moment the message delivers, my chest tightens. I stare at the screen, waiting. Three dots appear almost immediately.

Then they disappear. Then they come back. Then, finally, a response.

I don't deserve your forgiveness. I just wanted to know you were okay. I'm so, so sorry.

Now the tears begin to well up. I close my eyes for a second, sighing before typing again.

I know.

I shower, standing under the hot water longer than I should. My face is pink from the heat when I step out. I check the mirror again. Nothing. No mark. No proof. Just the memory lingering in my mind.

I get dressed, tie my damp hair up in a bun, and head to the kitchen. My parents aren't home, so I make myself coffee and sit at the table, scrolling through my phone.

A couple of messages from friends, some school emails, nothing important on my device. I should probably do something today. Get out of the house. Take my mind off things. But I don't know where I'd go, and I don't feel like seeing anyone.

I wonder if Minho saw. I believe I heard him talk to Dariel as I grabbed my stuff to walk home.

No. He would've texted me had he seen. Would've confronted me on being childish.

And as if the universe can read my thoughts, my phone lights up.

Minho

Hey, you up for a walk through the park or something?

My eyes stay fixated on the message for a long time. This is what Dariel was talking about. Now, even though I don't agree with his statements, it would be disturbing and weird to run off with the exact person Dariel warned me about.

Hi, no thank you. But have a good day!!

Without a second thought, I call Dariel. He picks up on the first ring.

"Luciana." His voice is rough, like he hasn't slept.

I let out a slow breath. "Hey."

"I—I didn't think you'd call," he admits.

"I wasn't sure if I would either."

A quiet, shuddering breath from his side. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I hate myself and—"

"I don't want you to."

"How can I not?" His voice breaks. "I hurt you. I did something I can't take back."

"You did," I say softly. "And I won't pretend it didn't happen. But this one moment doesn't define you. It's the only imperfect thing that happened in a year."

A pause. "You don't have to say that."

"But it's the truth."

Another silence. I hear him shift, as if he's pacing around. "Luciana, if you need space, I'll give it to you. If you want to end things, I won't fight you on it. I just—I need you to know that I'm sorry. And that I will never, ever let it happen again."

I swallow. "I know that."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Dariel has his flaws, but he isn't violent. What happened last night wasn't something I expected, but it also wasn't something I believe will happen again.

"I'm still in this, Dariel."

"What?"

"I'm still up for the apartment."

A sharp inhale. "You don't have to say that just because—"

"I'm not." I shake my head, even though he can't see it. "We signed that contract because we wanted a future together. I still want that."

"You do?" He sounds so disbelieving that it makes me speechless for a moment.

"I do," I whisper.

I hear the slight hitch in his breath, and then, so quietly I barely catch it, he murmurs, "I don't deserve you."

"No, you do. I'm the one who..." I sigh. "I was childish and immature. I thought about your reasoning. I still don't think I should hang out with Minho less, but I get where you're coming from. Maybe we can try to hang out together, like... all three of us. It'll improve your relationship with Minho as well."

"That sounds alright to me."

"Don't agree just because you want my forgiveness."

"No, I really do agree. You now understand my reasons and you respect them even though you don't want to go along with them. I now understand your reasons and I'll respect them even though I might not want to go along with them, either. We can talk about this... whenever you want, really. In real life."

"Okay. Maybe tomorrow?" I suggest carefully. "I'll just take a moment to stay away."

"Tomorrow's fine. See you then. I love you."

My eyelids fall closed. "I love you."