A World That May Have Been

The cafeteria looked as it always did— colorful and filled with people, noise, and music. A quick glance was enough to find the blonde who always occupied the same spot at the far back of the room. Ámbar was sitting with her legs crossed at her usual table, a black pen in her hand swinging from side to side between her fingers as she read.

Naturally elegant. Beautiful without even trying.

That was why she was the best.

Her instincts were sharp too, judging by how she realized someone was staring at her in no time, and found his gaze in even less.

Benicio smirked at the way she froze when she recognized him. Her shoulders tensed fractionally, her features a lot, and she looked down at her papers, continuing to read.

Aw, think you can ignore me? How cute.

It took nothing but a couple of steps to cross the cafeteria and reach her work table. As he approached, he noted Simón following him with his eyes from where he was standing a few tables over, a hard gaze accompanied by an even harder expression, but he didn't call out to Benicio nor did he stop him, choosing to duck his head back down and continue stacking dirty tableware on a tray.

Interesting.

So, if they weren't broken up already, they were well on their way to.

"Ámbar," he said in lieu of greeting. "I see you're still as hard-working as ever."

"And I see you've still got nothing better to do than to come bother me," she retorted without looking up.

"Actually, I didn't come here to bother you; I want us to talk."

The hand that'd been holding the pen slammed down on the table, and Ámbar turned her head up, setting scorching eyes on his face as if she could set him ablaze with them alone.

"You've got some nerve," she said low-pitched, almost like a growl. "Give me one good reason why I should talk to you instead of telling you to fuck off right this instant."

Benicio shrugged his shoulders slightly as if all of it slid right off him, because it did. "I think if you were going to do that, you already would've." He smirked. "I know you, Ámbar. You want to talk to me too, even if only to yell at me about how angry you are. I'm willing to tolerate it, if, in exchange, you let me say what I want to say to you."

The tense line in Ámbar's mouth remained, but she said nothing for a few seconds, considering. Her eyes shot a glance to the side— in Simón's direction, he noticed— but they came back to him shortly.

"Fine." She stood up. "But not here. I will not make a public spectacle of my life."

She walked away without another glance at him.

There was something to be said about how attention was exactly what she usually craved, but Benicio was already on thin ice, so he chose not to make a comment about it.

He followed after Ámbar, a few steps behind to appreciate the view. When he realized where she was taking him, however, he stopped in his tracks.

"Ah-ah. I believe the lockers room is pretty public too, don't you think?" He said with a smirk, conniving. "Anyone could walk in on us while we're talking. If it's privacy you want," he pointed to the side with his head, "the dressing room will do just fine."

Ámbar's eyes narrowed slightly, and Benicio's smile grew with satisfaction. No cameras for this, partner. He was smarter than that.

Begrudgingly, Ámbar retraced her steps and entered the dressing room as Benicio held the door open for her. Then he closed it behind them, and they were finally alone.

Ámbar turned to him immediately with a cutting gaze.

"I can't believe you have the audacity to not only show yourself around here again but also to ask me to talk to you after what you did to me."

"Oh, come on. You can't really be that mad about one kiss after all that happened between us."

"When it was against my will?" She pointed out spitefully, crossing her arms. "Yes, I can."

"Against your will?" He got closer and ran the back of his index on the delicate skin of her face. "You seemed to be rather enjoying it before Simón arrived."

"'Cause you dressed up as him." She swatted his hand away. "Tell me something— Does this obsession you have with me seem normal to you? Always trying to mess with me to get my attention, putting ideas in my boyfriend's head so that he'll dump me— And don't even try to deny it. Emilia told me everything about your little plan."

Benicio sighed heavily. "I know it can be a little hard for you to understand, Ámbar, but actually, everything I've done has been for you."

Ámbar's brows drew together. She blinked. "Me?" Benicio only nodded, to which she huffed out a laugh. "I'm sorry— Are you trying to tell me that you've been," she counted with her fingers, "trying to ruin my life, trying to ruin my job too by deliberately messing with some skates and getting an innocent kid hurt on the rink, trying to sabotage my relationship, and sexually harassing me to achieve it— All for my sake?"

"Absolutely." Ámbar scoffed and turned her head away, but he knew he only needed to make her understand his reasoning. "You think I've been trying to ruin your life, but I've actually been trying to make it better. That thing with the rollerskate wheels and the kid that got hurt was just to show you the incompetence of your employees, and the lockers system in general. Now you've got cameras in there— Can you honestly tell me the Roller's business isn't better now with that?" Ámbar's lips pressed together. Oh, yeah. She couldn't deny it. "And your relationship with Simón isn't more than a farce, and you know it."

"A farce?"

"He only wants you when you act exactly how he wants you to," he said gravely. "I'm trying to save you from having to bend over backwards every day to try to make some guy happy when you shouldn't have to. You deserve someone who wants you just as you are."

He moved closer again, cupping her cheek with his palm, and Ámbar allowed it. Her eyes didn't stray from his own.

Now he just had to give one final nudge.

"You're already perfect, Ámbar. It hurts me to see how that loser has convinced you that you need to chop off parts of who you are when that's not true at all. I always accepted everything about you— your fury, your ambition, your darkness. He will never allow you your full potential, but I will." He held her face between both hands now. "Come on, Ámbar. Can you really not see that it would be so much easier to just be with me?"

Those blue eyes had dilated while staring into his own. There was an intensity in them, and when they looked down at his mouth, Benicio had to contain the urge to smile with triumph.

Oh, Ámbar… So lonely. So desperate for approval that she believed every word he said. Not that he'd been completely lying—He did think he was infinitely superior to Simón, and the other stuff had some logic— but he'd mostly sought to hurt her to make her pay for the humiliation of leaving him for that loser.

Hurt her so she'd be more receptive to his advances. Create a wound he could cure so she'd stick to his side.

Ámbar was always more amenable when she was sad.

As she was proving now, soft under his touch, sliding her hands up his arms to place them on his shoulders.

“I think you're right." Slowly, Ámbar leaned closer to him so that her next words were breathed right in front of his lips, low and soft like a purr. "It would be so much easier."

Benicio closed his eyes, already tasting the kiss that his girl would give him. His, and no one else's.

Instead, the grip on his shoulders tightened, and a blinding pain exploded between his legs, cutting off the air in his lungs and every thought he had.

*************

Ámbar watched Benicio fall to his knees in front of her.

With a choked-up noise, he lay on his side like the baby he was, cupping his crotch between his hands and contorting with pain.

She should've done this months ago.

Her skin still crawled from where she'd allowed him to touch her. It'd been very hard to hold back her rage as he weaved bullshit after bullshit, trying to put himself in a good light. It was insulting that he thought it would work.

With some shame, she thought that maybe, some months back, it would have. Back when all she wanted was for someone to tell her exactly those words— that she was right and the rest of the world was wrong. That she was justified in her rage. That she could do whatever she wanted and everyone else deserved it.

It would be easier to live like that. Without having to worry about changing or about anyone's feelings. Thinking only about herself.

“But I’ve never liked easy, especially guys who are giving themselves away with ribbon included, and you, Benicio, make me so nauseous that the mere idea of touching you makes me crave a bullet in my head. So, this is what you’re going to do.”

She crouched down beside him and gave him her best fake smile.

No, Simón didn't want her just as she was back then, and that was alright. She didn't love herself back then. Everything she did was self-destructive. What Benicio didn't manage to understand, and probably never would, was that Simón didn't force her to change— She chose to. And she was better for it.

She didn't need someone to tell her she was perfect. She didn't want to be perfect—She was sick of wanting to be perfect. She needed someone who loved her with her flaws so she could finally stop hiding them.

And she found it.

She found more than one person, in fact.

And like hell she wasn't going to protect them.

“You are never going to set foot in this place again," she declared. "You are never going to go near me or my friends ever again. I’m going to send you a plane ticket straight back to Italy, and I recommend that you use it, because if you don’t… “

She went to the corner she and Delfi had picked days ago and pulled out the hidden tablet, returning to Benicio's side so he could see it too. “This whole video of you admitting you harass me and that you hurt an innocent kid will go public!” She put herself in frame next to Benicio and waved. “Say hi to Delfi’s camera.”

Benicio's glare intensified, realizing he had been played. Unfortunately for him, even if he wanted to retaliate, he couldn't. His face was red, scrunched up with protruding veins on his forehead, and he seemed to be struggling just to breathe.

It must have really hurt.

Good.

If he weren’t still covering his crotch, she would kick him again.

Ámbar stopped the recording and lowered the tablet.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll use this video to make sure no skating team will ever want you. No one will hire you at all. I’ll use all of my connections, money, and power to completely destroy your pathetic life, and you will wish you had settled for just a kick in the balls.” She tilted her head to the side. "Do we have a deal?”

Benicio didn't answer as quickly as she liked, so she decided there were other parts available and kicked him on the chest.

Benicio wheezed. With a growl that showed his canines, he spat, "Yes!"

Ámbar smiled sweet like poison. “Good.” She turned to the exit. “Bye bye, Benicio. See you never.”

She didn't bother glancing back as she walked out the door.

-------------------

As discussed, Simón, Ramiro, Pedro, and Matteo were all standing outside the dressing room when Ámbar walked out with the tablet in hand.

“Done,” she announced. “If he doesn’t cooperate and leave this establishment quietly, you know what to do.”

“How did it go?" Simón stepped toward her immediately. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Ámbar bathed in his concern like it was life's greatest gift. It was relieving to see proof that he still cared about her.

Things had been awkward between them since yesterday.

Things had been awkward in general, really, and she had no one to blame but herself. Maybe that was why she had enjoyed putting Benicio in his place so much— Other than how much he deserved it. Because in there, in that room, she had control. Outside of it? She couldn't control anything.

All she could do was observe and wait to see how everyone took the news of her long-hidden secret. The guys, at least, had taken it pretty well, as proven by their presence right now and based on their interaction that morning. Ámbar had prepared herself for the most torturous breakfast ever, but they were all polite—tense, but polite— only asking a couple of questions, and even thanking her for speaking up.

Ámbar had no idea what Luna had said to them to get them to not accuse her of being the same evil girl as always— especially her lovely ex Matteo (come on, he must have been waiting for a moment like this)— but whatever it was, she guessed she owed her one.

(And wasn't that a shiver-worthy thought, being in Luna's debt.)

So, breakfast had been fine, and so far, her time in the Roller had been going pretty okay too. There were stares— She had been expecting that. She didn't want to wait for Delfi and Ramiro to hear it from the gossip mill, so she told them herself when they arrived. They took it pretty well too. Delfi knew how close Ámbar and Sharon were from all the years she knew her, so she understood the struggle, although she too thought she should've asked for help sooner. Ramiro wasn't very acquainted with the whole situation, having been exiled from his friends for months, so he was just glad that everything was okay now.

"So that was what you were scared of telling Simón…" Delfi's brows wrinkled with worry. "How did he take it?"

Ámbar wasn't totally sure how to respond to that.

Simón had been there during breakfast, and he took his usual place by her side at the table, but it was achingly obvious that things were not resolved between them yet. His smiles were a little forced. There was little to no contact between them. She kissed his cheek when they arrived at the Roller and split up to get to work, and that was as close as they'd been since yesterday.

Throughout the day, she'd been stealing glances at him, and he seemed mostly normal, but a little too quiet. Tired. Distracted. A couple of times, Ámbar thought she felt his gaze on her, but whenever she looked, he was back to doing whatever he was doing, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it after all.

"He took it well," she finally replied to Delfi. "I mean, no— He was upset, obviously. We argued a little. I think he's still angry for lying to him. But, in general, he supported me with all of this. He sat there next to me while I told everyone. I was so terrified that he wouldn't understand, but he told me that Sharon's actions are her own and not mine, so… that leaves me more at ease."

If he absolutely hated her now, he would've already said so, right? She was probably overthinking it. He was just a little angry. A little hurt. She could work with that. She'd earn his forgiveness.

"I told you he'd understand," Delfi told her with a little smile, placing her hand on top of hers. "It's Simón. He loves you."

"I'm peeved you didn't tell me you were having trouble in paradise," Ramiro had said then, half-joking. "I could've given you a male perspective."

Ámbar apologized for not keeping him in the loop, and then they kept talking for a while, moving on to what was going on in their lives— Ámbar was trying to be a better friend than she was before and she knew that meant not having everything revolve around her— and it was barely half an hour after they left her to her work that Benicio arrived.

No rest for the wicked.

The glance Simón and she had shared at that moment was the first time their eyes met in hours.

And now, all his attention was on her, his worry over her safety obvious, and that made her feel like she could finally breathe.

"No, he didn't do anything," she reassured him, "other than try to convince me to leave you and be with him." Ámbar rolled her eyes. "He's completely delusional."

"Why hasn't he come out yet?" Matteo asked with a little wrinkle between his brows.

Ámbar shrugged without a care. "I assume he's still recovering from the knee to the balls I gave him."

It was funny to watch all four guys reflectively wince, some of them even bending at the waist a little, jerking their arms as if to cross them protectively over their hips.

"Deserved," Pedro said, "but ouch."

"I don't think we'll need to do anything then," Ramiro said to the guys with amusement. "The little princess already made sure he'll be out of commission for at least a week."

"Oh, I hope so," Ámbar said tiredly. "But I would never underestimate again his ability to be stupid."

Delfi showed up just then, walking up to the group. "Did it work?"

"Yes, thank you so much," Ámbar told her, handing her the tablet. "And sorry for using your tablet all these days."

Delfi waved it off. "It's okay; I can always shoot videos with my phone. And it's not hard to delete one video file every day, even if it's a big one."

Planting a camera where Benicio didn't expect it had been the best idea Ámbar came up with to get proof of his misdeeds, but since a security camera like the ones in the lockers would've been too easy to spot, she'd had to ask for Delfi's help for a less conspicuous option. Not knowing when exactly Benicio would show up had meant hours of footage of nothing, but thankfully, it all had been worth it.

"So, now you edit this one and send it to Ámbar?" Simón asked.

"Yeah," Delfi replied with a smile. "It won't take long at all. I'll make a copy once I get home and—"

The dressing room door swung open.

Ámbar found herself suddenly behind Simón, and Delfi, too, was moved behind the line of guys as Benicio stepped out with an expression of fury and eyes blazing with a thirst for vengeance.

He scanned the whole group in front of him quickly and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, even through the grimace of pain still present on his face.

"Oh?" He said mockingly. "You're that much of a coward, Simón, that you had to gang up on me four on one?" He spat. "You were that scared to take me on by yourself?"

Ámbar could only see part of Simón's profile, but the tension in his body was evident.

"Oh, trust me, there is nothing I'd like more," he said. "But unfortunately, Benicio, you're not worth my time."

Benicio bared his teeth, ready to snap something back, but Pedro stepped forward before he could.

"Just go away, Benicio." His tone was conciliatory, final, all facts instead of taunts. "You know this is a fight you won't win. Not today, nor in the future, as I'm sure Ámbar let you know."

Behind him, Delfi hugged the tablet to her chest, the one with all the proof to doom him. Benicio's eyes fell on it before Matteo captured his attention this time, speaking full of mockery.

"Send my regards alla mia bella Italia, fallito."

It wasn't necessary to know Italian to understand the meaning of that last word. Benicio's smirk turned vicious, the snarl of a caged, cornered animal. This should've been the part where he walked away, recognizing he'd lost, but, of course, he couldn't make it that easy.

He turned to Ámbar.

"Don't think for a second that I will leave empty-handed," he said darkly. "I warned you that if you crossed me I would tell Vidia about your illicit relationship with an employee, and I can already imagine the faces they will make at your blatant lack of professionalism."

His smile was mocking and cruel. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he felt this was a victory, even if all his other plans had gone wrong. Just being able to hurt her in equal measure brought him satisfaction.

But Ámbar wasn't going to allow him to do that ever again.

"You want to tell them?" She stepped out of the guy's protection and stood in front of him. "Alright. Go ahead and tell them. Want to use my phone?" She pulled it out of her pocket and offered it to him. "Or better yet, I'll just tell them myself right now. I don't care, Benicio."

Ámbar enunciated those words slow and firmly so they sank perfectly into his brain.

"The worst they could do is fire me, which, honestly? Wouldn't affect me much," she continued. "I still have class, money, and the reputation that comes with the Benson family to ensure my future in whatever I wish to pursue, something that you won't have. So, do whatever you want." She smiled. "But I hope you're willing to go down with me in Vidia's good esteem, because there is no way they won't be furious with you once they learn you tried to break a kid's leg and almost earned them a lawsuit in the process."

Benicio stood with his chest heaving, seething with rage.

For a moment, it looked like the tension was going to snap, consequences be damned— but it didn't. A breath, barely a mirthless laugh left Benicio's lips, almost inaudible. He squared his shoulders, as if rectifying his dignity with it, and zeroed in on Ámbar.

"You are going to regret not having taken my offer," he declared. His eyes swept over the rest with contempt. "I curse the day I chose to return to his hotbed of losers."

He turned on his heels with those words, walking to the exit with a slight limp he tried to cover with perfect posture and force of will, but couldn't completely manage it. The door rattled a little as he yanked it closed behind him. And that was all.

A little anticlimactic, maybe, that that was how Benicio walked out of their lives, but from what Ámbar had gotten to know him, she couldn't say she was surprised.

No matter how much Benicio accused others of being so, the real coward had always been him.

A breeze of relief seemed to go around her as he disappeared from view. Shoulders relaxed, hands uncurled from readied fists, Delfi emerged from behind the protective line and into Pedro's arms instead.

Ámbar doubted this would be the wake-up call that would make Benicio change his ways. Most likely, he would just do what he had done after Mexico and find some other country to terrorize, where no one knew him and therefore wouldn’t see him coming. She felt sorry for the people he would most probably hurt in the future, but she was glad that it would no longer be her and the ones she cared about.

The guys dispersed with some final words of equal exhaustion and victory. 'Good riddance' seemed to be the shared sentiment by all— A freedom long time coming. Some high-fived Ámbar, Delfi hugged her, and then it was just her and Simón.

Ámbar was smiling, high on the celebratory mood, but it dimmed a little when she noticed Simón was looking at her with furrowed brows.

"I didn't know Benicio had threatened you with telling Vidia."

It was Ámbar's turn to frown. Her smile finished fading with her bewilderment. "I didn't tell you?"

"You told me you preferred to lower the PDA because it didn't look professional and Vidia could find out; you didn't tell me Benicio had threatened to tell them himself."

Ámbar blinked. "Ah."

Honestly, while at the beginning she had cared about it, with time, her head had been spinning with a hundred other worries, and so that little threat sank to the bottom of her list.

She shrugged. "Well, it was the same thing, in essence," she reasoned. "Whether Benicio told them or not, if we went around kissing, Vidia would find out eventually. But I don't care anymore. Let them find out. I organized two very successful events; I can leave with my head held high if they want to." She placed one hand on his face fondly and offered him a smile. "You're more important."

Once upon a time, that would've called forward a softness in Simón's eyes that Ámbar only realized she'd been expecting when it didn't happen. Instead, he smiled— fleeting and weak, but he did, and Ámbar forced herself to believe it was enough.

He took her hand from his face, giving it a little kiss before letting it go.

It was more than nothing. It had to be enough.

"Well, I doubt Benicio will tell them when he gains nothing from it, so there should be no problem," he said. Simón fetched a tray from a nearby table and pointed to the side with his head. "I'm going to get back to work. Call if you need anything."

What if I need you to really smile at me?

What if I need you to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay? Would you do that if I asked?

"Okay," was all she said.

Simón walked to the other side of the cafeteria, and Ámbar went back to her work table, to focus on things she could fix.

*******************

Her parents had told her to go to the Roller directly after school. They advised her to be with her friends. Distract herself. Carry on with her routine as normal while they took care of everything.

Luna went to the mansion instead.

It wasn't out of disobedience. It wasn't curiosity either— She wished it was something that simple.

No, this was about her family, and Luna simply needed to know.

Nina's mom was in the living room when Luna arrived. She was sitting next to her parents and her grandpa. On the other side of the table, a few police men were taking their statements.

Sitting next to the police men, with their heads down, were Maggie and Rey.

Oh...

The adults in the room fell silent upon her arrival. Luna felt the pressure in the air from the gravity of the procedure she'd just walked into. Her dad suggested she wait upstairs in her room until they were finished, but Luna asked for permission to stay. This was, after all, precisely the reason why she'd wanted to be home— to know, to be in the known of everything for once instead of constantly being blindsided or denied answers to coddle her.

The adults exchanged a glance with the police men.

"If you promise not to interrupt and let us adults talk, you can sit next to your mother," Ana said. She had that air of formality that Luna had so rarely seen in her. She knew what Nina's mom did for a living, but most of the time, she saw her as just that— a loving mother who sometimes embarrassed her daughter, but that was so proud of her.

This was a lawyer through and through.

Luna sat next to her mom as instructed, and the feeling of her arm around her quieted some of her nerves.

What followed was a long, tense conversation with some terms Luna only vaguely understood, but she got the important bits.

Her family declared they were not interested in pressing charges. They just wanted Sharon to be stopped. However, they weren't the only affected party. The people who bought the fake paintings did want restitution— which was the whole reason why the case existed in the first place— and so, Maggie and Rey, having been accomplices in the fraud, would have to pay for their part in it somehow.

The option of Community Service was mentioned. It all depended on how their trial went, which would take place at some future date yet to be determined.

In the meantime, neither of them was allowed to leave the country (as had happened with her parents and grandpa previously) and staying in their respective homes was strongly suggested.

It wasn't house arrest— They weren't considered dangerous enough for that— but any further movements would look bad to their case, lowering their chances of a lenient sentence, and, well, staying in the mansion, the place where everything had gone down, with the people they had acted against, wouldn't look good either.

By the time Luna went to the Roller, it was late afternoon. The sun was starting to set (ugh, she hated how short days were in winter) and some of her friends had already gone home.

The ones who hadn't flocked to her immediately to talk about everything that was going on. Some had heard directly from her, others had found out through the grapevine.

'How are you?' was a typical phrase used along with greetings all the time, but Luna had been hit with that question on so many occasions lately, with different levels of concern woven into it, that if she didn't hear it again for a few weeks, or months, it would make her very happy.

It would mean her life for once didn't merit being asked that.

Luna answered everyone's questions as best as she could, with the pieces of information she had, including what she had just heard regarding Maggie's and Rey's potential penalty. Worries and reassurances were exchanged left and right. Luna appreciated the support, even if it was a little overwhelming.

The only one who stayed uncharacteristically away throughout the whole conversation was Simón. He was working, yes, waiting tables, but normally, he would take some minutes to join their friends— to join her.

Of course, he knew most of it from last night; he didn't need a repeat. But still. Luna couldn't help but think that the avoidance was deliberate.

After a while, once the fuss quieted down enough that they could talk about other things, not focused on Luna anymore, she separated from the group and went to seek him out.

"Hi, Simón."

Her friend glanced up at her from where he was hunched over the bar, scrubbing some stain or something.

"Hey, Luna." He continued scrubbing.

"Did you hear everything just now?"

"No, not much. But it's not like it's anything I don't know; I was there yesterday."

The bar looked sufficiently clean to Luna, but maybe there was something there she wasn't seeing?

"Well, yes," she said a little awkwardly, "but the thing with Rey and Maggie happened today."

At that, Simón finally paused his task long enough to ask her what she meant. So, Luna told him about the conversation with the police men back at the mansion.

"Hm." He placed the rug under the faucet to wash it and then wrung it out to get rid of the excess water. "Maggie I can understand, but considering this is the second time Rey does something like this, I would think he deserves more of a punishment. But if that's your family's decision, it's fine."

"Yep..." Luna tapped her fingers idly on the bar. "To be honest, I understand them. I don't want anyone to suffer either; I just want all of this to be over."

Simón made another sound of assent while he proceeded to wash some glasses.

Luna could no longer hold her worry at bay. It tasted a lot like guilt, and it twisted her stomach more every time Simón refused to make eye contact with her.

"Simón… I wanted to apologize to you, about yesterday." That made him look up, but now it was Luna who struggled to keep his gaze. "I accused you without thinking, I'm sorry."

She should've told him the previous night, but she was more focused on Ámbar, and everything she'd found out, and telling the guys, and—

"It's okay, Luna." Simón broke through her spiral with a gentle voice. "You were in shock just like everyone else. I understand."

"But still, I— I feel terrible because…" She searched for the right words, but there was only the image engraved in her mind. "Simón, I saw your face as Ámbar was telling us everything… You really didn't know, did you?"

A shadow of that same pain she'd seen last night appeared again on his expression, and Simón looked down.

Oh.

So that was what he'd been really shying away from, not her.

"No," he confirmed quietly. So small, in a way her best friend, such a vibrant soul, rarely was.

Luna's heart ached.

"And, how are you with all of this?" She asked carefully. "Did you talk to Ámbar? Where is she now, by the way?" She hadn't caught a glance of her since she arrived at the cafeteria.

"In the rink, supervising the dismantling of some final stuff left over from the party." Simón left the clean dishes on the side to dry. "And, no, we haven't talked much since yesterday."

Luna fidgeted with her hands, thinking of how to help.

"I imagine all of this was a big shock for you," she opened up with. "I mean, it was for all of us, but you're the one closest to her…" Maybe she shouldn't have said that, maybe that just made it worse— Change tactics. "But hey! At least now you know what she had been hiding from you." Better. "You know, what we talked about the other day. You don't have to worry about that anymore. I mean, clearly this was what she was so reticent to tell you."

A huff of laughter left his lips. "Can you imagine if there was more?"

Luna joined him with a little chuckle of her own. "What more could there possibly be?" She said with wide eyes.

Simón actually laughed this time, but the longer it went on, the more evident it became that the sound held no amusement. It came out broken. Wet.

The eyes Simón didn't seem to be able to focus on Luna filled with a particular sheen.

"I don't know," he said, hollow.

Luna's chest tightened.

"Simón—"

As quickly as the vulnerability had shown, it disappeared. Simón straightened, picked up the rag he'd been using, and set his sights on some table far away.

"I gotta keep working."

He was already walking away when Luna caught him with both hands.

"Simón." She only talked when he looked back at her. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? All of this is hard for everyone— You don't have to go through it alone."

She'd had a whole crowd of people offering their support. He deserved the same, if not more.

Long seconds passed in which Simón just looked at her, complicated things in his eyes that Luna couldn't read.

He gently removed her hands from his arm. "I know, Luna. Thank you." His tone was solemn, and it said a lot that he didn't even try to smile. He took a breath. "But I… I don't want to talk about it. Not yet."

Luna swallowed. She wanted to insist, but she didn't want to disrespect her friend's wishes.

"Okay," she acquiesced finally. "But if you change your mind—"

"I know," Simón assured her, and then continued on his way to the table before Luna could say anything else.

**************

For two more days, Ámbar excused herself from the dining table to go up to her room, and Simón made no move to follow her.

Sleeping alone felt strange. She'd been doing it her whole life— she was conscious of that fact— but in just weeks, she'd gotten used to the warmth of another person. To the feeling of peace and safety.

During the day, she and Simón had some moments. Coming and going from the Roller, they talked almost normally, holding hands like usual, even smiling. (Ámbar felt very proud of herself every time she could coax a genuine chuckle from Simón.)

They didn't really talk during work. Ámbar tried to invite him to have lunch with her— only to eat, just that— but he declined. The only kisses they shared were short ones she gave him on the cheek, for good morning and good night. She'd tried, once, to kiss him on the lips, but Simón had tensed up, and she'd ended up changing course at the last second.

Until the evening of the third day.

In the evening of the third day, right at the mansion's door, when they had a moment alone between the crowd of the Roller and the crowd inside the house, Ámbar turned to him like the only light in the dark.

And Simón—

Simón kissed her like she was his air.

It was hard. Passionate. He held her face in his hands and pulled her close, as if there was anywhere else Ámbar would've rather be. She answered in kind, clinging to his clothes, his shoulders, his hair, opening her mouth to him and taking as much as he was willing to give her. Simón's hands adjusted too, squeezing her against him, and Ámbar forgot how to breathe.

She would've gladly stopped breathing at all if only he kept kissing her like that.

Simón broke away first. His forehead came to rest on her own, and Ámbar felt no desire to open her eyes or move in the slightest. Neither did he.

They stayed like that, feeling, breathing each other in for a moment that felt eternal and entirely too short.

Simón's hands tightened on her waist and her hair.

"Can we talk after dinner?"

Ámbar felt a dizzying mix of relief and dread.

Her heart was a hummingbird, trapped between her ribs.

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and added a bit more strength to her voice, which had come out like a whisper. "Yes, of course."

A couple more seconds passed. Another few.

Simón parted from her and went inside.

-----------------------

If questioned later, Ámbar couldn't have told anyone what they had for dinner.

She half-heard everyone mentioning Maggie and Rey, managed to grasp the gist of it, some leftover corner of her brain signaling, This is important, you have to listen.

The rest was stuck like a broken record thinking what she was going to say to Simón. She had thought about it a lot the last few days, but now that the moment was finally here, she found herself constructing the same sentences over and over, rehearsing her words as if she had to give a school presentation.

Dinner felt like a two-minute affair. Before she knew it, plates were empty, people conversed, and of all the ten times she had looked at Simón, he hadn't looked back once.

But when she excused herself from the table, he followed.

They hadn't discussed where they'd have their conversation, but Ámbar went to her room out of habit, and Simón didn't stop her.

As the door closed behind them both, Ámbar felt, against all odds, a little relieved. She knew this was going to be awkward, but it was nice to have Simón back here with her, in this space that lately she had started thinking of as theirs rather than just her own.

Before the silence could settle in and make everything more tense, Ámbar turned to Simón and began her speech, looking at him solemnly. Better rip it off like a band-aid, she figured.

“Okay, first of all, I'm sorry again for everything. I know you’re angry, and I understand that completely." She looked down at her hands. "You have every right to feel that way, and I want you to know—"

“I’m not angry.”  

Ámbar blinked.

Her carefully crafted note cards fell from her hands. Disappeared entirely.

She looked up with a frown. “You’re… not?”

Simón's face was turned away. She could see the contour of his jaw from where he was clenching it too hard. She expected the serious expression, but instead of brows furrowed in anger, there was a brittle air trying to pull every feature down, and a redness in his eyes.

A jab of pain went straight through Ámbar.

Oh.

Oh no.

She took a step toward him but held herself back, pausing with her hand up, an offer of comfort she wasn't sure if she should try to give, if her touch would even be comforting, or allowed.

“My love?" She prodded gently instead.

Simón gulped, a notorious movement she could follow with her gaze, and turned his head back to her.

His eyes stared at her face for long seconds, as if taking in every detail.

“Ámbar, I love you. I really do.” He looked down. His lip quivered. “But I don’t know if I can be with you anymore.”

The ground vanished from underneath Ámbar's feet.

Everything came to a halt, her ribs forgetting how to expand to let her breathe. Silence, thick and cutting to the bone, swallowed everything, and she couldn’t even formulate a “what?”, “why?”, or some “please don’t say that.” Her tongue lay on her mouth like dead weight.

“I understand your situation," Simón continued. "I know it was hard. I understand your reservations, I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. But every time I think about all that was happening behind my back while I was with you, I—” He looked away, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. “Ámbar, have we ever been together without some plan behind? Have you ever been with me without thinking about the next way you’re going to hide something from me?”

Ámbar's heart wrung itself out dry, beating like an entire orchestra simultaneously. There has to have been a moment. She flipped through her memories with haste. Of course there was, right? There was. There has to have been.

“I can’t stop thinking…" Simón's gaze went faraway. "…that if you’re capable of hiding something as huge as this, you’d be able to hide anything. And while I think that, I start questioning if anything you’ve ever told me is true.”

Ámbar grabbed his hands. “It is,” she said rapidly, pleadingly, desperately. “Of course, it is.”

He pulled his hands out of her grasp. “But that’s the thing, it’s not a matter of course for me anymore." His eyes were a little wide now, willing her to understand. "Ámbar, you’ve betrayed my trust twice.” He scoffed mirthlessly. “Twenty times if we're really counting, or a hundred, I don’t even know how many lies there were. And I know you didn’t want to, and I know you had your reasons, but…” His shoulders rose and fell weakly. “How do I trust you after this? How do I manage?”

Ámbar stared into his broken eyes and knew that this wasn't a rhetorical question. He was really asking. He was begging for anything that could convince him to stay. He didn't want it to be over.

She stepped closer to him, achingly aware that this moment was all she had. Whatever she said next would decide everything.

She took a few seconds to compose herself and then started.

“From as long as I can remember, I always lived under Sharon’s shadow. Trying to be like her, trying to please her. But now, for the first time in my life, I'm free of that. I can just live my life from now on. I want to live my life— with you, with Mónica, Miguel, with everyone… I won't be that version of myself I created anymore— I'll just be myself. And I promise you that I won’t keep any more secrets."

She took his hands again and held them tight. "I’ll be transparent with you. I’ll keep Sharon out of my life, and there won’t be any more plans, or lies, or anything. You don’t have to forgive me now… but give me the chance to prove to you that I can be better. I’m finally free to be better and do things right. It’ll be different, I swear. I swear it on…” She brought her shaking hands to his face. “On you, who are what matters the most to me." Simón's face scrunched up to hold back tears. One fell freely down Ámbar's cheek. "Give me one more chance. The last one. Please, I beg of you.”

Simón looked into her eyes for a long time.

Finally, two tears escaped from his own eyes and spilled on Ámbar's fingers.

“I’m sorry," he said. "I can't.”

Ámbar froze.

Simón took her hands by the wrists and lowered them. His next intake of breath made his entire body shudder. "I can't, I'm sorry, I can't—"

He took a step back. Ámbar tried to grab at him. “My love—”

Simón jerked away, his breathing ragged, another tear escaping. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he was trying not to break down and losing that battle quickly, so he left through the door instead.

“Simón— Simón!”

Ámbar hurried to the hallway after him, but he kept walking away.

"My love, please, let's talk about this," she said on his tail. "We can fix it. Just tell me—"

"How?" Simón whirled around suddenly. "Please, tell me how, because I've been racking my brain over it these past few days and I don't know."

His voice broke, and there was no stopping his crying now, tears falling down his face like raindrops.

Ámbar pushed her mind to maximum speed and still drew a blank. She had never felt so useless.

"I don't know either," she confessed. She could hardly think with how loud her heartbeat was in her ears. "But if you give me time—" Simón wiped his face with one hand "—if you give us time, we can find a solution."

"Ámbar, I believe in second chances, I don't know if third ones," he declared. "Fourth, fifth, sixth— I think—" His breath hitched. He swallowed and tried again. "I think it's time to accept that it didn't work. We tried, and it didn't work. There's nothing left to do."

"But it does work," she appealed, shaking like a leaf. "It can work. I just told you—"

"But Ámbar, I don't believe you." That sentence, said so simply, stopped the world. Simón gave her a small, wobbly smile, even as his tears fell. "I don't believe you."

Ámbar could feel nothing but a slash of anguish tearing up her soul.

Simón craddled her head in his hands and pressed a long kiss on her forehead. His warm breath brushed her skin.

"Please don't make this any harder."

He turned around and walked away. His warm breath, his warm touch, his warm everything— they all left.

Ámbar couldn't follow.

...

..

.

---------------------

Someone in the comments once said that I should let Simón cry because he was always holding it in, and you know what? You're right.

You must be wondering, "So many months waiting for an update for this?" …yup.

The fact of the matter is, this whole story was always pointed towards this. It's been planned for years. I always wanted to explore this place in which logic and emotion don't align. We already saw it a bit on Ámbar's side with how she knows giving away Sharon it's the right thing but she just can't. Now there's this other concept, which I always saw so clear in my mind, of— "I understand why you did what you did, I do. But it still hurts. What do I do with this pain in my hands?"

I had to hold myself back everytime someone left a comment like: "I'm sure Simón will understand her, he's not stupid." Cause like… yeah, he understands, that's not the issue.

How they navigate this from now will be very interesting. At least, I hope it is.

On a different note, I got the idea of using Delfi's tablet to secretly film Benicio from how Jazmín accidentally filmed the switching of the paintings in the show. That didn't happen in this AU because there was no need, so, might as well use that narrative device for something else.

Lastly, a fun fact: I wrote Benicio's reaction to a kick in the balls based on what I witnessed once on one of my classmates during high school. And that wasn't even a deliberate blow. My classmates were just playing around and it was an accident. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if it was on purpose. Maybe I should've made Benicio throw up? lol

Well, I can confidently say no one will miss him!

Or his balls, if they never recover.

As always, thank you for reading, and um… I'm sorry ?