#brokenvows

exile from the broken vows series (read all the chapters here) - chapter twenty

What had happened with Ellison still sat heavily in your chest. Days had passed, but the anger you were feeling towards Alexia hadn’t, neither had the hurt. You let yourself sink into it, refusing to talk about what had happened.

Whenever Alexia came to pick up the girls, you barely acknowledged her. You kept your eyes anywhere but on her. She tried to bridge the distance, but you gave her as little as possible.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask Dolores.”

The messages stayed exactly where they’d been left, between you, untouched.

Today, though, there would be nowhere to hide.

It was Eli’s birthday.

Alba said she was trying to keep it small, just family. Plenty of food, cake, and the kids keeping everyone entertained without even trying.

Before hanging up the phone a few days earlier, she’d added almost as an afterthought

“Déjalas dormir aquí esta noche. Mamá le hará muchísima ilusión.”

You’d smiled. “Claro.”

Now, with the evening finally here, you finished getting yourself ready as the house settled into its usual late-afternoon quiet.

You didn’t spend long in front of the mirror. A little concealer beneath your eyes, some mascara, a touch of blush, and you were done.

Your hair had dried almost straight after your shower, but you curled a few loose sections into soft waves before pulling on a pair of light-wash jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and an oversized beige linen shirt left unbuttoned. Comfortable. Simple.

You padded across the hallway toward Iris’s room and the first thing you noticed was the tiny pink backpack sitting neatly beside the door.

Inside, Iris was sprawled across the middle of her bed, quietly playing with the doll resting against her knees. She didn’t even look up when you walked in.

“Five more minutes,” she said confidently.

You laughed.

“I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”

“I know.”

Only then did she glance over, smiling as though she’d won some invisible argument.

You walked to her wardrobe.

“What are we wearing today?”

Iris slid off the bed, abandoning the doll without a second thought. “My star jeans.”

“The star jeans?”

“The pretty ones.”

You opened the drawer, “You mean these?”

She gasped dramatically, “Sí!”

The tiny pair of light blue jeans was embroidered with little pastel hearts and silver stars scattered across the legs, she’d insisted on buying them because they “looked magical.”

“And the pink sweater.”

“The one with the little flowers?”

“Nooo…” Iris giggled. “The fluffy one.”

“Right.”

You helped her step into the jeans, holding her hands while she balanced on one foot, then the other.

“There.”

She lifted both arms automatically, you pulled the soft pink sweater over her head before gently freeing her curls from the neckline.

She turned in a slow circle, “Pretty?”

“The prettiest.” you said.

Iris reached up, patting both sides of her head.

“Pig.”

You knew she was asking for pigtails, “Of course.”

She climbed onto the little stool in front of her mirror without being asked, feet swinging happily while you gathered her curls into your hands.

“You have to sit still.”

“I am.”

“You’ve moved three times.”

“I only moved a little.”

“Maybe three times,” you admitted, making her laugh.

You divided her curls carefully, smoothing each section with your fingers before securing the first pink elastic, Then the second.

She watched you through the mirror the whole time.

“When I get big…”

“Hm?”

“…I want hair like yours.”

You smiled without thinking. “I think your hair is much prettier than mine.”

She frowned at your reflection. “No mom”

“No?” She shook her head very seriously at you

“I want yours.”

You leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

“I think yours is perfect.”

She considered that. “…Okay.”

Iris turned her head from side to side, admiring herself from every angle.

“I look like a princess.”

“You do.”

She slipped her small hand into yours as she climbed off the stool.

“Vamos, vamos,” Iris said, already pulling you toward the door.

Before you could stop her, she took off down the hallway, darting past Nora’s room.

“Vamos, Nora!” she called, poking her head inside. “It’s Abuela’s cumpleaños! Vamos!”

A second later, she disappeared downstairs, the sound of her little footsteps echoing through the house.

You followed a few seconds later, heading toward Nora’s room.

She was sitting on her bed, phone in hand, barely looking up when you walked in.

“Go get changed,” you said.

“I don’t want to.”

You stared at her for a moment.

You really didn’t have the patience for this today, not for the attitude or for the arguing.

So you kept your voice calm.

“You have ten minutes to get dressed, pack your things, and be downstairs. If not, you’re grounded.”

Nora didn’t answer, she just looked back down at her phone as you walked out.

Ten minutes later, you waited by the front door as Iris excitedly told you all about the birthday gift you’d picked for Eli. When Nora finally came downstairs, her expression tense, you said nothing. You grabbed the bags, ushered both girls to the car, and drove over in silence.

By the time you arrived, Alba was already opening the door with her usual warm smile. And there, just behind her, stood Alexia.

She looked beautiful. The kind of beautiful that used to catch you off guard, no matter how many times you’d seen her.

Now, you found yourself looking for a second too long before forcing your eyes elsewhere.

The feeling wasn’t warmth anymore, it was a quiet sadness, born from realizing the person who had once felt most like home suddenly felt so far away, even standing only a few feet from you.

You stepped inside and greeted everyone the way you always did. Alba got the first hug, then Eli, along with a quiet happy birthday before she laughed and led the girls away to show them the decorations.

You exchanged a few more hugs, a few more hellos.

And when you looked up, there was only one person left.

Alexia.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you stepped forward and hugged her.

The familiar scent of her shampoo and soap reached you instantly. You recognized it without even thinking.

You pulled away first, giving her a small smile before turning back to everyone else.

After a while, everyone gathered around the table as the birthday cake was brought out. The room filled with an off-key chorus of Feliz Cumpleaños, making Eli laugh before she leaned forward to blow out the candles. Everyone clapped as the cake was sliced and passed around, conversations slowly picking back up around the table.

You did your best to stay present, smiling when you were supposed to and answering when someone pulled you into a conversation, but your mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Eventually, you slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water. You had barely filled your cup when Alba appeared in the doorway, her expression careful but determined.

“Alexia told me,” she said quietly.

“Told you what?”

“That you’re seeing someone.”

You set the glass down harder than necessary. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“She said you are.”

“Well, she’s lying.”

Alba narrowed her eyes. Of course she did, Alexia was her sister, after all. “Why would she lie?”

“I don’t know, Alba. Maybe you should ask her.” Your voice sharpened. “And while you’re at it, maybe ask why she lied to my face for months.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Alba replied, visibly shocked.

“Why? It’s the truth.” You let out a bitter laugh.

You loved Alba, you really did, but she was pushing every button you had left.

“I… I don’t know what to say to that,” she admitted.

“Alba…” you rubbed a hand over your forehead. “Stay the fuck out of this, please.”

Alba frowned. “I’m not trying to take sides.”

“It feels like you are.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t have to ask. I care about both of you.”

You let out a quiet laugh, one without any humor. “I know you do.”

“Then why are you getting angry at me?”

“Because you’re asking me to understand her.”

“I’m asking you not to give up.”

“I haven’t.” You looked at her, your jaw tight. “I’ve listened. I’ve heard everything she had to say. That doesn’t mean I’m okay.”

Alba’s expression softened. “I know you’re not.”

“Do you?” you asked quietly.

She was silent.

“I think I’m going to go,” you said, already turning toward the door.

“What?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “Why?”

You narrowed your eyes at the question. “The girls things are in the bag I brought. Everything’s there. If you need anything, call me.”

You left the kitchen without waiting for a reply and went straight to Eli. You pulled her into a tight hug, guilt twisting in your stomach.

“Sorry, Eli, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow about the girls, okay?”

She looked disappointed, her small shoulders dropping. “Oh… okay. But this early?”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling well.” The lie tasted sour on your tongue.

Alexia stood across the room, watching the entire exchange in silence. Her expression was unreadable. The girls were happily playing with her cousins, completely unaware.

You said your quick goodbyes to the rest of the family, then stepped out of the house. The cool night air hit your face, and for the first time all evening, you felt like you could finally breathe.

Or at least… you thought you could.

You’d barely reached your car when you heard the front door open behind you.

Footsteps.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“So…” Alexia said as she stopped beside you. “Are we going to talk about what you did the other night?”

You opened the car door, refusing to look at her. “What I did?”

“Don’t.” Her voice sharpened. “You know exactly what you did. I texted you. You read them. Then you ignored me completely. We have kids, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t bring the girls into this,” you said, finally looking at her. “They’re fine. I’m doing everything I need to do for them. I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Claudia saw you with Ellison.”

You froze for half a second, then rolled your eyes. “Whatever. I’m not discussing that with you.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “She seems like your type.”

You turned to her slowly, anger flashing hot in your chest. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” she said, the corner of her mouth twisting. “Athletic. Brown hair. Tattoos.”

Her voice was dripping with bitterness.

“Guess you have a type after all.”

For a second, you just stared at her.

Not because the comment hurt. Not only because it hurt. But because you couldn’t believe she had actually gone there.

“Stop.”

Alexia frowned. “What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Turning this into something it’s not.”

A humorless laugh left her. “Isn’t it?”

You looked at her, exhausted. “What is wrong with you?”

Her expression changed immediately.

“Excuse me?”

“You hear yourself, right?” Your voice stayed low, but there was no softness left in it. “You keep saying things, creating things in your head, and then getting angry at me for them.”

“Because maybe I’m not imagining everything.”

“You are.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, Alexia.”

She looked away, jaw clenched.

You took a breath, trying to hold yourself together.

“I’m going to say this one time.”

Her eyes came back to yours.

“I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” she repeated, almost offended.

“Yes.”

A bitter smile crossed her face. “Right”

“Stop,” you said sharply, your voice cracking with frustration. “Please, just stop.”

Alexia stared at you for a moment, her expression cracking.

“Then talk to me!” she snapped. “You shut me out completely and then act like I’m the only one who isn’t trying.”

You looked at her, disbelief flashing across your face.

“You disappear for days,” Alexia continued. “You don’t answer my calls. You don’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to fix this if you won’t even let me in?”

“Because I don’t know how to talk to you right now,” you said.

Alexia let out a laugh. “Of course you don’t.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you implying?”

“It means you’ve already decided I’m the villain,” Alexia said. “No matter what I say, no matter what I do, you’ve already made up your mind.”

“You cheated on me, Alexia.”

“I know.”

“You don’t!” Your voice rose. “It feels like you only understand that you hurt me when it affects you.”

Alexia’s face tightened. “Because I am hurting too.”

“And I’m expected to comfort you through that?”

“That’s not—.”

“It is,” you said. “Everything always comes back to you. How much you miss me. How much you’re suffering. How scared you are.”

“Because I love you!” Alexia shouted.

“And I loved you too!” you yelled back.

The silence afterward was immediate.

You swallowed, trying to hold yourself together.

“I loved you enough to trust you with everything,” you said. “And you destroyed that.”

“I know I did,” Alexia whispered.

“Then stop acting like I’m supposed to be okay just because you’re sorry now.”

“No,” Alexia said, shaking her head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Alexia looked at you, tears gathering in her eyes.

“I’m saying I don’t know how to fix something when you won’t even let me near you.”

You looked away.

“Maybe because I’m exhausted of being the only one who fought for us.”

Alexia went quiet.

Then, after a long moment, she asked softly:

“Do you want the divorce?”

You didn’t answer.

You just looked away, your eyes stinging as the question settled between you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, the honesty surprising even you.

Your voice barely came out.

“I love you,” You laughed weakly, shaking your head. “I love you so much… but I hate you too. I hate you so fucking much right now.”

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

You closed your eyes.

Not now.

Please, not now.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” you whispered. “I don’t want the girls growing up hating one of us because of this.”

Alexia closed the distance between you carefully, as though afraid you’d pull away.

Her hands cupped your face.

“Please,” she whispered.

She rested her forehead against yours.

“Let’s really talk this time. We can go to therapy. Couples therapy. We’ll do whatever you need.” Her thumbs brushed away your tears. “Please.”

The street was quiet.

Only the glow of the streetlights stretched across the empty road.

You held onto her forearms without thinking.

“I don’t know if I can,” you breathed, voice barely audible.

“You don’t know unless you try.”

“I know you slept with other people besides Eva,” you said quietly, the words scraping out of your throat like they hurt to speak.

Alexia looked away.

“I just…”

You stared at her. At this point, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to find the right words or another lie.

“The girl at the restaurant,” you said. “The night we went to buy Nora’s birthday present.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion.

“What girl?”

“The waitress. She told me the two of you had slept together.”

Alexia’s face shifted as the memory hit her. She closed her eyes for a second, exhaling sharply.

“…I didn’t even realize it was her.”

You didn’t respond. The silence pressed down on both of you, heavy and suffocating.

“I swear to you, the only person I slept with was a girl I met in a bar.” She swallowed. “It was after you threw me out of the house. I couldn’t even think straight.”

Her voice was so quiet it almost didn’t sound like hers.

You searched her face, looking for something, anything, that would tell you she was lying.

You couldn’t find it.

You looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“…Can you take me home?” you whispered.

For a second, she just stared at you.

Then something shifted in her expression. The hope in her eyes was impossible to miss.

“Yeah,” Alexia answered quickly. “Let’s take your car. Just let me say goodbye to the girls real quick.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

You tipped your head back, looking up at the night sky.

This is insane.

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore.

A minute later, the front door opened again.

“I’m ready,” Alexia said as she walked over. “Come on.”

You handed her the keys before walking around to the passenger side.

She slid into the driver’s seat, and you settled beside her.

The engine started.

Neither of you said a word.

Streetlights passed one after another, their light spilling through the windshield before disappearing again.

You swallowed.

“You were right, you know.”

“About what?” she asked, glancing at you before looking back at the road.

“I slept with Ellison.”

The words landed heavily between you. Alexia didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn her head, didn’t tighten her grip on the wheel, didn’t show anything at all. She just kept driving, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead, her face unreadable.

The silence settled again.

You wanted her to say something.

Anything.

To yell.

To cry.

To tell you it was over.

Maybe that would make this easier.

Maybe she’d have the strength to do what you couldn’t.

“I don’t even deserve to tell you this… you really don’t deserve it.” Your gaze stayed glued to the passing streets, voice shaking. “I couldn’t— I mean, I could. I did. But I couldn’t keep going. I mean… I did go through with it, but—”

Your words tangled, trembling just like the rest of you. Still nothing from her.

You closed your eyes for a second.

“She started kissing the tattoos I got for you…”

Your voice broke.

“…and I cried.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“How pathetic is that?”

You wiped at your face, but the tears kept coming.

“I couldn’t do it.”

Every word felt heavier than the last.

“Every time she touched me, all I could think about was you.” You swallowed hard. “I kept asking myself…” Your voice cracked. “How could you do it?”

A sob escaped before you could stop it.

“How could you? Because I couldn’t.”

Another tear slipped free.

“Is it because I still love you?” you whispered.

You finally looked at her.

“Does that mean you don’t love me anymore?”

The words barely made it out.

“Because I don’t understand how you can love someone… and still go through with it.”

Alexia’s grip tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

“…Don’t.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t.” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Because that’s the part that’s going to fucking kill me.”

“I’ve spent months trying to come up with a reason.” She swallowed hard, eyes never leaving the road. “Something that would explain what I did.”

She laughed again.

“There isn’t one.”

Silence.

“But then you tell me…” She finally looked at you. “You got all the way there…”

Her voice cracked.

“And you couldn’t.” Her jaw flexed.

“I did.”

The words came out almost angrily.

“I fucking did.”

She hit the steering wheel once, making the horn chirp.

“I loved you. I loved you every single day and I still did it.”

She shook her head, blinking away fresh tears.

“So don’t ask me how.”

Her voice broke.

“Because I’ve been asking myself the same fucking question since the day it happened.”

She looked back at the road.

“And I still don’t have an answer.”

You wiped roughly at your face, trying to hold back another wave of sobs.

“I wish that made it easier.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Neither of you spoke again.

When the car finally turned onto your street, something inside your chest tightened.

Home.

It didn’t feel like home now.

Alexia pulled into the driveway and shifted the car into park, you climbed out first, closing the door quietly behind you.

The street was still, almost peaceful, but there was nothing peaceful about the way you felt.

A second later, Alexia stepped out, closing the driver’s door quietly behind her.

She walked around the front of the car, holding out the keys.

You took them without a word.

“I’ll call a taxi.”

She reached into her pocket for her phone.

You watched her for a moment and she looked smaller somehow.

Like the woman who had walked into the party hours earlier had been left behind somewhere along the drive.

“…Alexia.”

She looked up.

Your hand was already on the front door key, but you hadn’t unlocked it.

Fake words, fake oaths, fake nod and fake smiles,

Fake relations and fake emotions were shown  in your eyes.

As fake as your promises that left me in the aisle,

Due to extensive conflicts that split our promised mile.

What a wonderful story? A wonderful surprise!

Surprise that wasn’t funny and brought tears into my eyes.

Your little joke of bomb, explodes in my heart,

Spreading thorns in my body, like a pointed, sharp dart.

Peculiar goodbyes darken my snowy wedding gown,

A farewell which  caused the mascara in my face to flow down.

Everything was unusual, unusual cries and shouts,

Freeing myself from the aches of the coming fall outs.

This bouquet of flowers were as dull as the body of yours,

My red trembling lips, were as bloody as your coat.

My tears burst out along with my curse,

chapter nineteen

It’s not about dinner - Broken Vows Series

It was the monthly team dinner, and this time everyone was coming to their house.

Alexia never should have offered.

At the time it had sounded perfect—one relaxed night with the team, good food, a chance to unwind before another brutal stretch of matches. Now, all she could think about was how she didn’t want to do it.

She came downstairs to the familiar sound of her mornings.

The television murmured in the living room, playing the colorful children’s show Iris demanded every single day. From the kitchen drifted the warm smell of fresh coffee and buttery toast.

Her wife was already up and moving.

Alexia paused at the bottom of the stairs and simply watched her.

This was the life she’d always wanted.

Which only made the choices she’d been making much harder to justify.

It had started with Eva almost by accident. One bad decision that snowballed into another. At first it had been purely physical—moments after training, hotel rooms on away trips. Now, Eva was the first person she wanted to vent to. Around her, there was no pressure to be Captain, no pressure to hold everything together, no pressure to be endlessly patient or strong. She could just be tired. Angry. Human. At home, someone always needed something from her.

Her wife glanced over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Alexia replied.

“You want coffee?”

Alexia nodded. “Please.”

Her wife poured a mug without another word and slid it across the island. Alexia wrapped her hands around it, letting the warmth seep into her palms.

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute, the kind of quiet that had once felt peaceful.

Her wife finally looked up from the list she’d been scribbling on the back of an envelope.

“So…” she said, voice casual, “what do you want to make for dinner tonight?”

Alexia stared at the grocery list for a long moment, then lifted her coffee for another slow sip.

“I don’t know.”

Her wife waited, pen hovering over the paper.

“…Anything’s fine.”

“‘Anything isn’t an answer, Ale.”

Alexia shrugged, eyes already drifting away. “I genuinely don’t care.”

Her wife tapped the pen against the counter, the soft clicking the only sound between them. “Pasta? Or should we just barbecue?”

“Either.”

A beat of silence.

Her wife exhaled. “I’m asking because I have to go shopping. I need to know what to buy.”

“I know,” Alexia said, still not looking up. Her gaze had drifted to Iris, who was spinning in dizzy circles in front of the television, arms flailing with joy.

“I’ll check later.”

Another patient nod. “What about dessert?”

Alexia set her mug down with a quiet clink. “Babe.”

“What?”

“You keep asking me questions I don’t have answers for.”

“I’m asking because it’s our dinner. I don’t want to make every single decision alone.”

“I said I don’t care,” Alexia replied, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “I’m fine with whatever you pick.”

Her wife studied her for a moment, the faint smile she offered not reaching her eyes. “That’s not helping.”

Alexia frowned. “It feels like you’re trying to pick a fight.”

“I’m not.” Her wife looked down at the list again, crossing something off with a little more pressure than necessary. “I’m really not.”

The kitchen grew heavy with silence.

Nora appeared in the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder. “I’m ready.”

Her wife’s expression softened instantly. “Okay, sweetheart. Go put your shoes on. We’ll leave in two minutes.”

Nora padded off down the hallway. The moment she was out of earshot, her wife turned back to Alexia, voice lower now.

“I have to drop Nora and Iris off, run to the supermarket, come home, clean the house, and start cooking before everyone gets here.” She let out a tired breath. “I just wanted you to help me decide a few things.”

“I did help.”

“You said ‘whatever’ to everything.”

Alexia’s frown deepened. “Why are we arguing over this?”

“We aren’t.” Her wife’s voice dropped even softer. “It just feels like… lately, I’m doing all the thinking for both of us.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s one dinner,” Alexia said.

Her wife looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“It stopped being about dinner a while ago, Ale.”

Alexia’s arms tightened across her chest. “What does that mean?”

Her wife hesitated, then spoke with quiet resignation.

“It means I feel like I’m losing you a little more every day.”

Alexia let out a frustrated breath and set her coffee mug down on the counter.

“I’m not doing this.”

Before her wife could answer, she turned and headed upstairs.

“I’m going to training.”

She disappeared down the hallway without looking back.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent.

Her wife closed her eyes briefly before exhaling, forcing herself to let the conversation go.

“Nora!” she called toward the house. “We’re leaving!”

She walked into the living room, where Iris was still swaying happily in front of the television, completely engrossed in the cartoon.

“Come here, baby.”

Iris turned with a grin and toddled straight into her mother’s waiting arms.

“Bye-bye, TV,” her wife murmured, pressing a kiss to the little girl’s temple as she switched it off.

An immediate whine escaped Iris’s lips, but it only lasted a second before she rested her head against her mother’s shoulder.

“Let’s go get your sister.”

With Iris balanced on one hip, she grabbed her keys, and her own bag from the kitchen counter.

“Ready?” she asked as Nora appeared.

Nora adjusted the strap of her backpack and gave a quick nod. “Ready.”

Alexia joined them by the door at the same time, dressed in her training kit with her gym bag slung over one shoulder.

“Ready, norita?”

Nora flashed a grin. “Yep.”

Alexia stepped over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders for a quick hug before kissing the top of her head.

“Have a good day at school.”

“I will.”

“And be nice.”

“I am nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I am!” Nora laughed.

“We’ll see.”

Nora rolled her eyes dramatically, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Her wife opened the front door first, and the cool morning air drifted inside. Alexia followed them out, closing the door behind her.

At the car, her wife opened the rear passenger door. Without thinking, Alexia reached for Iris.

“I’ve got her.”

Their fingers brushed as the toddler was passed between them. Iris immediately wrapped one arm around Alexia’s neck before pulling back to smile at her.

Alexia kissed her forehead and settled her into the car seat.

Iris immediately began babbling about her cartoon, speaking so quickly that half the words blended together.

Alexia nodded along with complete seriousness.

“¿De verdad? ¿Un dinosaurio hizo eso?”

Iris nodded excitedly.

“Vaya… eso sí que es impresionante.”

She tightened the straps of the car seat, checking each one before brushing a loose curl away from Iris’s face.

“There we go. Be good for Mom today.”

Iris giggled.

Alexia leaned in for one last kiss before gently closing the door.

She turned to Nora, who was already climbing into the back seat.

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Nora replied without hesitation.

Alexia smiled and shut the door.

Her wife was already behind the wheel. Alexia rested a hand on the open window for a brief moment.

“Drive safe.”

Her wife looked at her. The expression wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either—careful, restrained.

“You too.”

Alexia gave a small nod and stepped back, watching until the car disappeared around the corner before heading toward her own.

The rest of the day slipped by in a blur.

By the time night settled over Barcelona, their house was exactly as it always was on team dinner nights.

Music played softly through the big open living area. It mixed with the sound of people talking and laughing. Teammates walked easily between the kitchen, dining table, and terrace.

Alexia had just reached for another beer when she heard—

“Ale.”

She turned.

Mapi was standing a few feet away.

“You got a minute?”

Alexia nodded.

They walked toward the side of the house, away from the voices and laughter.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Mapi shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“You know…” she started quietly, “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Alexia looked at her.

“I kept telling myself it wasn’t my place.”

“What isn’t?”

“Irene asked me something the other day,” Mapi said, leaning her forearms against the railing.

“Yeah?” Alexia asked before taking another sip of her beer.

“She asked if everything was okay with you.”

Alexia shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” Mapi looked at her. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“I’m fine.”

“And here?” Mapi asked after a brief pause.

“We’re fine,” Alexia replied.

“You sure?” Mapi searched her face.

Alexia let out a small laugh. “Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know…” Mapi admitted, glancing back through the patio doors. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”

“I’ve been tired.”

“We’re all tired.”

“It’s been a long season.”

“It has,” Mapi agreed, letting the silence settle between them.

Finally, she looked back at Alexia.

“Is there someone else?”

Alexia frowned before letting out a disbelieving laugh.

“What?”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you mean, ‘someone else’?” Alexia asked, her brows drawing together.

“I’m asking if there’s someone else.”

Alexia shook her head.

“Mapi, that’s ridiculous.”

“I thought so too,” Mapi admitted quietly. “I kept telling myself I was reading too much into things.”

“You are.”

“I wanted to be.”

Alexia’s smile faded.

“But then I started paying attention.”

“There isn’t anything to pay attention to.”

“You and Eva.”

Alexia answered almost immediately.

“She’s the club doctor.”

“I know who she is.”

“So?”

“So…” Mapi hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “People have noticed you spend a lot of time together.”

“We work together,” Alexia replied, irritation creeping into her voice.

“I know.”

“We’re around each other because of football.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Alexia asked, spreading her hands.

Mapi held her gaze.

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened.

“I’ve told you everything there is to tell.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Maria…”

“I’m giving you the chance to be honest with me,” Mapi said, her voice still calm.

“I am being honest.”

Mapi gave a slow nod.

“Okay.”

She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back up.

“Then look me in the eye and tell me there’s never been anything between you and Eva.”

Alexia met her gaze without hesitation.

“There hasn’t.”

Mapi watched her in silence.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Finally, she shook her head.

“No.”

Alexia frowned.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean…” Mapi swallowed. “I don’t believe you.”

Alexia scoffed. “That’s your problem.”

“No.” Mapi’s voice grew firmer. “It’s yours.”

“I answered your question.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Alexia took a step back, shaking her head.

“This is insane.”

“Is it?” Mapi asked, the hurt finally creeping into her voice. “I’ve spent weeks convincing myself everyone else had it wrong.”

She laughed bitterly, rubbing a hand over her face.

“I kept thinking, ‘Not Alexia. She’d never do that.’”

Alexia looked away.

Mapi felt her heart sink.

“There it is.”

Alexia stayed silent.

“You can’t even look at me,” Mapi said quietly.

Alexia swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Ale…” Mapi’s voice softened. “Please.”

Alexia squeezed her eyes shut.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Mapi whispered.

Alexia didn’t answer.

“Please… tell me I’m wrong.”

The silence stretched between them.

Mapi felt her stomach knot.

“…Did you?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Alexia’s shoulders sagged.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

Mapi froze.

For a long moment, she simply stared at her friend of years.

Then she let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh.

“You did.”

Alexia couldn’t bring herself to respond.

“You actually did. Jesus Christ, Ale.”

She shook her head slowly.

“How could you?”

Alexia kept her eyes on the ground, unable to meet her gaze.

“How long?” Mapi asked quietly.

Alexia swallowed. “…A few months.”

Mapi closed her eyes.

“A few months,” she repeated, almost to herself.

When she opened them again, the hurt had given way to anger.

“So every day you’ve come home…” she said, gesturing toward the house, “…you’ve looked her in the eye and lied.”

Alexia rubbed a hand over her face.

“It wasn’t supposed to—”

“No.” Mapi cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. “Don’t say that again.

Silence settled between them.

“I know,” Alexia whispered.

“No, you don’t.”

Mapi turned toward the patio doors.

Inside, Alexia’s wife was helping Nora cut another slice of cake while balancing Iris on her hip. She was laughing at something Cata had said, completely unaware of the conversation happening outside.

Mapi stared at her for a long moment.

“She has no idea, does she?”

Alexia didn’t answer.

Mapi looked back at her. “Does she?”

“…No.”

A bitter laugh escaped Mapi. “Of course she doesn’t.”

Another silence.

“You need to tell her,” Mapi said firmly.

Alexia’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

Alexia shook her head. “It’ll destroy her.”

Mapi stared at her in disbelief. “It already is.”

Alexia frowned. “What?”

“You just don’t see it yet.”

Mapi took a step closer.

“When she finds out and she will find out, it isn’t just the affair that’s going to destroy her.”

Alexia’s chest tightened.

“It’s every morning you kissed her goodbye.”

Mapi’s voice shook.

“Every ‘I love you.’ Every dinner. Every night you climbed into bed beside her while you were sleeping with someone else.”

Alexia squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop.”

“No.”

Mapi’s composure finally broke.

“Do you think she’s going to look back on the last few months and remember the happy moments?”

“She’s going to question every single one of them.”

Alexia couldn’t breathe.

“She’s going to wonder which smiles were real. Which touches were real. Whether you were thinking about Eva while you were holding your daughters.”

“Mapi…”

She pointed toward the house.

“There’s a woman in there who has built her whole life around you.”

Alexia looked through the glass.

Mapi’s voice softened, but it hurt even more.

“She trusts you, Ale.”

Alexia felt tears sting her own eyes.

“You owe her the truth.”

Alexia’s shoulders slumped.

“I know.”

“No,” Mapi said quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

She looked at Alexia one last time. “I can’t do this right now.”

Alexia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

With that, she turned and walked back toward the house, leaving Alexia standing alone on the patio.

The warmth and noise hit her the moment she stepped inside.

No one noticed the redness around her eyes.

“You’re leaving already?” Pina asked, looking up from the couch with a half-empty wine glass in her hand.

Mapi forced a small smile. “Yeah. I have to call Ingrid.”

“You always have an excuse,” Patri teased.

“I know.”

She walked over to the dining table where Alexia’s wife was.

“Hey,” Mapi said softly.

Alexia’s wife looked up and smiled. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having us.”

Without thinking, Alexia’s wife wrapped her in a quick hug.

“I’m sorry it was a bit chaotic.”

Mapi closed her eyes for the briefest second before hugging her back.

“It was perfect.”

When they pulled away, Alexia’s wife laughed.

“You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” Mapi said quietly.

She meant it.

Mapi glanced around the room, saying goodbye to the rest of the team before making her way to the front door.

Alexia didn’t move for another minute.

She stood on the patio, staring into the darkness, until the laughter from inside reminded her that everyone else was still there.

She drew in a slow breath, rubbed both hands over her face, and forced her expression back into something neutral before sliding the patio door open.

Her wife looked up the moment Alexia walked in.

“There you are,” she said, her brow knitting together almost immediately. “Everything okay?”

you’re losing me

read the full series here: broken vows

recap: this chapter takes place before alexia cheated. this is just to give you guys a better understanding of what was happening between them before everything went wrong.

word count: 1.2k

The bathroom door is still open. Warm light spills into the bedroom as you finish your skincare routine in front of the mirror. You smooth the last of the eye cream beneath your eyes, barely looking at your reflection.

“Baby?” Alexia’s voice drifts in from the bedroom, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What?” you call back, still focused on the mirror.

“Can you come here?”

You sigh. “Alexia… I’m literally finishing. Give me one second.”

She doesn’t answer.

A minute later, you switch off the bathroom light and climb into bed beside her.

She’s sitting against the headboard, the comforter pulled over her legs. Her phone rests face down on the nightstand. A small detail that immediately catches your attention, usually she’d be scrolling while she waited for you.

Instead, she’s just… sitting there. Waiting.

“What happened?” you ask, studying her face.

Alexia lowers her gaze, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the blanket. “I’ve been thinking,” she says quietly.

You give a small nod, waiting for her to continue.

“I think I want to leave Barcelona,” she admits, her eyes finally meeting yours.

Your brows knit together as you stare at her, certain you’d misheard, “…What?”

“I think I want to play somewhere else,” Alexia says quietly, her eyes dropping to the comforter.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her.

Leave Barcelona?

Leave the house you’d spent years turning into a home. Leave her family. Leave Nora’s school.

Your heart sinks.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, unable to keep the confusion from your voice.

Alexia lets out a slow breath, as if she’d rehearsed this conversation a hundred times but still can’t find the right words. “I don’t feel like I have much left to achieve here. We’ve won everything, and…” She hesitates, searching your face before looking away. “I think I’d be happier somewhere else.”

“Happier?” The word slips out before you can stop it, sharper than you intended.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “What do you mean, happier? You’re not happy here?”

“No.” Alexia shakes her head almost immediately. “That’s not what I meant.”

You stare at her in disbelief, still struggling to follow. “Then explain it to me.”

“I’m happy,” she says quickly. “I mean… I’m happy here.” She draws in a slow breath, her eyes fixed on a spot across the room. “I’m talking about football. Career-wise.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “I just… I feel like my time is coming, and I don’t want to stay until I’m already on the decline.”

You don’t know what to say.

This wasn’t the first time she’d brought it up.

A passing comment after a match. Another one months later. Every time, you’d shut the conversation down before it had the chance to go anywhere, convincing yourself she’d eventually stopped thinking about it.

Looking at her now, you realize she never did.

“I don’t want to move,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Alexia’s expression barely changes. She only nods once, as though she’d seen it coming, “I know.”

A heavy silence settles between you.

“But…” Her voice is careful now, almost hesitant. “What if I do?”

You stare at her, “What?”

She presses her lips together, then speaks again, “I was talking to my agent—”

“You were talking to your agent?” Your head snaps up “And you’re only telling me now?”

“I—”

“So you’ve been having this conversation without me?”

The next question is already out before she can answer, “You’re thinking about moving us to another country, and you’re only telling me now?”

Even as the accusation leaves your mouth, you know it isn’t entirely fair.

But the shock reaches you before reason does.

Alexia lets out a frustrated breath.

“Will you let me finish?” she asks, her voice firmer now. “I asked what my options would be if I ever decided to leave. That’s all. Nothing is happening. Nothing’s been decided.”

She pauses, waiting for you to meet her eyes.

“I would never make a decision like that without talking to you first.

The frustration drains from her face, giving way to hurt.

“Who do you think I am?”

You pause for a moment barely recognizing the woman sitting in front of you. “I don’t know who you are right now.”

Alexia’s expression falls before hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are we even having this conversation?” you ask, your voice quieter now, though no less defensive.

“Because I think I want to change clubs,” she replies, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You think…” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Or you know? Because those are two very different things.”

“I think,” she repeats, the frustration beginning to seep into her voice. “Oh my God, that’s why I’m talking to you. I wanted to know what you thought before this became anything.”

She exhales slowly, searching your face for some sign that you’re listening.

“We’d have a support system wherever we went.”

“You definitely would,” you mutter, the sarcasm slipping out before you can stop it.

Alexia closes her eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Can you stop being sarcastic for one second and actually try to understand me?”

You fold your arms across your chest, leaning back against the headboard. “I don’t know, Alexia. Because last time I checked we were supposed to make decisions together.”

For a long moment, she simply looks at you.

Then, as though something inside her gives out, she lets herself fall back against the pillows.

“Oh my God…” she murmurs, turning onto her side. “Forget it.”

You stare at the back of her head, stunned.

“Forget it?” you repeat.

She doesn’t answer.

“No.” You sit up straighter, your heartbeat picking up again. “You don’t get to say ‘forget it.’ You can’t tell me you want to leave Barcelona and then decide the conversation’s over.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she says quietly, not turning around.

“No.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Alexia lets out a tired sigh before pushing herself back upright. Rubbing a hand over her face, she looks at you with exhausted eyes.

“I think moving would be good for us.”

You don’t say anything.

“I think it’d be good for the girls. I think it’d be good for you.”

You keep your eyes on her, but you still don’t answer.

She swallows.

“And…” Her voice catches ever so slightly. “I think it’d be good for me.”

You press your lips together, “I don’t agree.”

Her eyes search yours, looking for even the smallest sign that you’re willing to meet her halfway.

“Can you at least think about it?”

“Not really.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Why are you acting like this?” she asks, frustration finally slipping through.

A humorless laugh escapes you, “I don’t know.”

Your eyes stay on hers. “Why are you acting like this?”

Silence settles over the room.

Neither of you moves.

Neither of you looks away.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Alexia pulls the comforter off her legs and swings them over the side of the bed. She reaches for the pillow behind her.

“Where are you going?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

She tucks the pillow beneath her arm, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

“Right. Because you’ve already decided everything on your own. So go sleep alone,” you say, the bitterness clear in your tone.

mdni

If you want to read the full series, it’s pinned on my Tumblr in my masterlist. After an entire year, it’s finally here. I hope you guys like it!

marked - from the broken vows series - chapter eighteen

You arrived at the bar a few minutes later than you meant to.

Ellison was already there.

You spotted her almost immediately, leaning against the bar like she belonged there, like every room knew to make space for her. Cream pants, a white shirt, a leather jacket thrown over it all.

Fuck. She looked good.

Too good.

For a second, she reminded you of Alexia a few years ago.

That same kind of certainty.

That same easy confidence, like the world had never once given her a reason to doubt herself. Like everything she believed in was solid beneath her feet.

It was strange, almost cruel, how much could change, how drastically someone could become someone else.

You pushed the thought away and walked over to her.

“Hi,” you said. “Sorry if I’m late.”

Ellison turned to you, her face brightening. “Oh, don’t worry, you weren’t. I just got here.”

You smiled, relieved in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.

Ellison tilted her head. “So, how are the post-party nerves?”

You let out a breath, dramatic but sincere. “Honestly? Happy that it’s over. And seriously considering never doing it again.”

Ellison smiled. “That’s probably what everyone says right before they do it again.”

“I’m serious.”

“Of course you are.”

You laughed, and then she did too, and you liked it immediately. The sound of it. The way it loosened something in her face. The way it made her seem warmer, less impossible to reach.

“Next year,” she said, “when you’re sending out invitations and pretending this was your last one, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Please,” you said. “I’m begging you. Be cruel if you have to.”

“Oh, I will,” she said lightly. “I’ll do what’s best for you.”

The conversation stayed soft after that, easy and light, and somewhere in the middle of it you started really looking at her.

Not just at the clothes, or the confidence, or the way she held her drink.

Her.

The small expressions she made when she listened. The way her eyes stayed on you like she wasn’t half anywhere else. The way she seemed so sure of herself, and somehow still curious.

And despite yourself, you wanted to know more. Maybe that was why, when she said something else you were a beat too slow to answer.

It was embarrassing, the force of it. The simplicity. She was beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was how easy she was to be around. How quickly your body had decided that she could be trusted.

You took a sip of your drink, mostly to give your hands something to do.

And then, sharply and without permission, you remembered the first time you and Alexia had gone out for drinks. The same low light. The same charged feeling of sitting across from someone and being absurdly aware of every small movement: fingers around a glass, the tilt of a smile, the quiet thrill of being chosen for the evening.

The memory caught hard enough that you looked away.

“You disappeared,” Ellison said.

You looked back at her. “Sorry?”

Her mouth twitched. “For a second. You got that look people get when they’re either remembering something tragic or trying very hard not to kiss someone.”

A laugh escaped you, startled and a little breathless, mostly because the alternative was choking on the truth.

“Those are wildly different situations.”

“Are they?”

Her tone stayed light, but her eyes didn’t leave your face.

You could feel yourself wanting her attention with an intensity that made you feel younger than you were, and not in any flattering sense. Younger as in raw. Younger as in unfinished. Younger as in capable of making stupid, needy decisions and calling them instinct.

You wanted her to keep looking at you.

That was the dangerous part.

Not even wanting to sleep with her, though you did. That part was blunt, physical, almost simple.

The dangerous part was wanting to be wanted by her. Wanting her attention to land on you and make you feel less like a woman in the middle of a divorce and more like someone still fully alive inside her own body.

Ellison tipped her head. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Thinking instead of talking.”

You smiled into your drink. “Occupational hazard.”

“That bad?”

You could have lied. Probably should have.

Instead, you said, “I’m out of practice.”

“With talking?”

“With this.”

Something in Ellison’s expression softened, just slightly. “Having a drink?”

You laughed.

“Sure,” you said. “Let’s call it that.”

Ellison smiled, but didn’t answer right away. For a second she just looked at you, like she was considering whether to let that sit or say something that would make it worse.

Then, from somewhere behind you, a laugh cut through the noise of the bar: bright, familiar, impossible to mistake.

You turned before you meant to.

Claudia.

She was across the bar with her girlfriend, one hand wrapped loosely around a glass, the other moving as she talked.

For one brief, cowardly second, you thought maybe she wouldn’t see you.

Then she did.

Recognition crossed her face in pieces. First surprise. Then warmth. Then, quick enough to be almost invisible, her eyes moved to Ellison. Took her in. Came back to you.

Nothing in her expression changed, exactly.

That was the problem.

Claudia had always been too perceptive to need to show her hand. She just seemed, suddenly, to understand more than you wanted understood.

She said something to her girlfriend and started toward you.

Of course she did.

“Hey, you,” Claudia said, leaning in to hug you, quick and easy and familiar enough to make something in your chest tighten. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Nora’s birthday. It was Lina’s mom’s birthday too, and we couldn’t miss it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said. “Really. Nora loved the present, though.”

“I’m sure she did.”

Claudia smiled, then looked at Ellison with effortless openness. “Hi, I’m Claudia.”

“Ellison.”

They shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Claudia said, and she meant it, which somehow made it worse.

“You too.”

Claudia’s gaze moved between you once, briefly, with the calm of someone noticing more than she let on. Then she looked at Ellison again.

“I don’t think I know you,” Claudia said to Ellison. “Are you two old friends?”

“Not really,” you said.

Ellison smiled, easy. “I coach Nora.”

Claudia’s eyebrows lifted, just slightly. “Oh.”

It was a small reaction, almost nothing, but you felt it anyway.

“She’s been training with her for a few months now,” you added, hearing the extra explanation in your own voice and hating it a little.

Claudia nodded. “Right. Of course.”

Her girlfriend appeared at her shoulder then, smiling, and Claudia made the introductions with her usual easy warmth. For a few minutes the conversation stayed harmless. Nora’s birthday. Lina’s mother. The party. Some joke about children having better social lives than the adults responsible for them.

You smiled when you were meant to. You even meant some of it.

But something underneath had shifted.

Maybe it was only that Claudia belonged to a part of your life Ellison didn’t know. Or maybe it was the opposite, that Ellison had entered your life through Nora, through this newer, smaller, more fragile version of it, and Claudia had understood that immediately.

Either way, you felt suddenly too legible.

When the conversation began to thin, Claudia touched your arm lightly. “I’m glad I ran into you,” she said.

“You too.”

And you meant that, which was annoying.

Her eyes held yours for half a second longer than necessary, warm, knowing, careful not to say anything she didn’t need to. Then she smiled at Ellison again.

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Ellison said.

Claudia and her girlfriend drifted back into their seats, and for a moment you watched them go without really seeing them.

Beside you, Ellison was quiet.

Then, after a beat, “That was subtle.”

You laughed despite yourself, looking down at your drink. “Was it?”

“Not especially.”

You glanced at her.

There was no judgment in her expression. Just a kind of dry steadiness that made it hard to decide whether you wanted to laugh again or kiss her.

“She knows Alexia,” you said at last.

Ellison nodded once, like she’d already guessed as much.

“Right,” she said.

You turned the glass slowly between your hands. “And she knows enough to know what this might look like.”

Ellison’s mouth twitched. “What does it look like?”

You looked at her then.

At the calm confidence of her face. At the fact that she was making you answer your own question.

“That,” you said, “is not very nice.”

“No,” she said lightly. “But it is a real question.”

You looked down at your drink and turned the glass once between your hands, suddenly too aware of them, of yourself, of the noise of the bar pressing back in around you. Music low under everything. Glasses knocking together. Someone laughing too loudly near the door.

When you looked up, Ellison was already watching you.

Not impatient. Not offended. Just quiet in that deliberate way people got when they were choosing not to crowd you.

For a while neither of you said anything.

The bar kept moving around you, careless and loud, but it felt far away now, as if the room had shifted slightly out of reach. You could feel your pulse in strange places. Your throat. Your wrists. The space just under your skin.

Claudia was gone. That should have helped.

Instead, the feeling she’d left behind stayed lodged in you, sharp and humiliating, like being seen too clearly and all at once. Not by her, exactly. By yourself. By the version of yourself standing here with a drink in her hand and Ellison in front of her and too much of the past suddenly crowding in at once.

You looked back at your glass because it was easier than looking at Ellison.

When you finally spoke, your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.

“I think maybe I should go.”

Ellison held your gaze for a second, then nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

That was all. No argument, no attempt to make it lighter than it was. She just reached for her pocket, set some cash on the bar before you could protest, and slid off her stool.

You followed her out into the night almost without thinking.

Outside, the air felt cooler than it should have. Cleaner. The noise from the bar dulled the second the door shut behind you, leaving only the street, the traffic further off, the sound of someone laughing at the corner.

Then Ellison looked at you and said, quietly, “I get it.”

You frowned a little. “Do you?”

A small smile touched her mouth, but it faded quickly.

“I get enough of it,” she said. “You don’t have to explain.”

The gentleness of that made something in your chest tighten.

Ellison tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. “I know where you are in your life,” she said. “I’m not trying to push you into anything.”

You looked at her, really looked at her, standing there under the streetlight with her face gone softer than it had been inside.

“If you want a friend,” she said, “I can be that.”

The words landed more heavily than they should have.

Maybe because they were kind. Maybe because they weren’t. Maybe because there was something unbearable in hearing her make herself smaller for your sake, even gently.

You stared at her.

At the patience in her face. At the restraint. At the fact that she was letting you leave without asking for anything, letting you retreat with your dignity intact, as if that was all this had been, as if the last hour had not shifted something live and reckless awake in you.

And maybe that was what did it.

Maybe it was the kindness. Maybe it was the way she said friend like she would mean that too. Maybe it was just that you were suddenly terrified of letting the night close over without touching her.

Before you could think better of it, you stepped toward her and kissed her.

Not carefully. Not with the hesitation you’d carried all evening. Just the sharp, undeniable fact of wanting, finally given somewhere to go.

Ellison made a startled sound against your mouth, brief and soft, and then kissed you back.

Her hand came up to your jaw, warm and steady, and for one impossible second everything in you went quiet. No Claudia. No Alexia. No divorce, no fear, no past crowding in to tell you what this meant.

Just this.

Just her mouth on yours, the cool night air, the feeling of having crossed something you wouldn’t be able to uncross.

When you pulled back, it was only far enough to breathe.

Ellison was still looking at you, her hand still lightly against your face, her expression unreadable in a way that made your pulse jump all over again.

“Well,” she said softly.

You laughed once, breathless and a little wrecked. “Yeah.”

A small smile touched her mouth.

Ellison’s hand stayed lightly at your jaw for one more second, then fell away.

She looked at you for a moment, like she was recalibrating.

Then she said, quietly, “My place is close. We can call you an Uber from there.”

You knew what she was doing. Giving you an out inside the invitation. Making it easy to say yes without asking for too much all at once.

You held her gaze for a beat, long enough to feel your pulse kick again.

“Okay,” you said.

Something in her expression shifted at that. Not surprise, exactly, but a small, contained warmth, like she’d expected you to refuse and was trying not to show she was pleased.

“Okay,” she said back.

And then, because apparently neither of you trusted the moment to survive too much examination, you just drifted into step beside each other and started down the street.

When stepped into Ellison’s apartment, the contrast hit you immediately. It was sleek, modern, and impeccably neat. Clean lines, soft lighting, and that quiet sense of order that felt expensive.

“Well, this is nice,” you said, glancing around.

Ellison raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Did you think I lived in a dump?”

“I didn’t think anything, actually,” you replied honestly.

She leaned against the kitchen island, watching you. “I know you don’t know me… but I was a good player.”

“I mean, I’ve never really known much beyond Alexia and Europe, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s fair,” she said with a soft laugh. “You shouldn’t know.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Well… do you want something to drink while you order the Uber?”

You narrowed your eyes, studying her. The air between you had shifted.

“Do you want me to call an Uber?”

Ellison held your gaze, her voice low and steady. “I don’t. But if that’s what you want to do, then that’s it. I didn’t bring you here with expectations.”

The alcohol had loosened something bold inside you. You took a slow step closer, eyes locked on hers.

“No expectations then?”

The phrase hung between you like a challenge.

Ellison didn’t move, just watched you with that intense, unwavering stare. You kicked off your heels, feeling the cool floor beneath your feet. Then, without breaking eye contact, you began unbuttoning your blouse one button at a time, deliberate and unhurried.

She stayed perfectly still, her eyes never leaving yours, even as your shirt parted.

You moved closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. Your fingers dropped to your pants, unbuttoning them slowly.

Only then did Ellison’s gaze finally drift downward, tracing over your exposed skin. Her eyes burned with unmistakable hunger, dark and heated.

Ellison exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath. She finally pushed off the kitchen island and closed the distance between you. Her hand rose slowly, almost reverently, and brushed her fingertips along your collarbone, then down the center of your chest.

“You’re really doing this,” she murmured, voice husky. Her thumb grazed the edge of your bra, sending a shiver through you.

“I thought you said you didn’t bring me here for that.” you teased, though your voice had grown breathy.

A low, dangerous smile curved her lips. “I didn’t. But I’m not about to stop you either.”

She leaned in, her mouth hovering just inches from yours. You could smell her perfume, something warm and subtly sweet, you could feel the heat of her body.

When you didn’t pull away, she closed the gap, kissing you deeply. Your hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Ellison’s fingers slid into your hair, gripping just tight enough to make you gasp against her mouth. She walked you backward until your back met the cool edge of the kitchen counter, trapping you between her body and the marble.

She broke the kiss only to trail her lips along your jaw and down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point. One of her hands moved lower, skimming over your ribs, your waist, then boldly cupping your ass and pressing you harder against her.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispered against your skin, “and I will.”

You answered by arching into her touch, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Don’t stop.”

Ellison let out a soft, satisfied sound

Her hands were everywhere, kissing, touching, exploring. Confident and sure, like she’d imagined this moment more than once.

The tension snapped the second you told her not to stop.

Ellison grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing. Your legs parted instinctively as she stepped between them, mouth claiming yours in a deep, greedy kiss. There was nothing polite about it, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, breath mixing hot and fast.

You yanked her shirt up and over her head. She did the same to your bra, tossing it behind her. Skin met skin. Her hands were everywhere, squeezing your breasts, sliding down your stomach, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks.

She broke the kiss only to drop lower. Her mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard, then moved to your breasts. She took one nipple between her lips, biting just enough to make you gasp, while her hand pinched the other. You arched into her, fingers tangled in her hair.

Ellison pulled back, eyes dark and wild. She pushed your thighs wider apart, staring at your soaked pussy like she wanted to devour it. Without a word, her tongue dragged slowly up your slit, tasting all of you, before she dove in.

No teasing.

She ate you like she was starving: mouth wide, tongue fucking into you, then sucking hard on your clit. Two fingers pushed deep inside, curling instantly against that spot that made your vision blur.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, head falling back against the marble with a thud.

She groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your thighs shake. Her free hand gripped your ass, pulling you harder against her face as she devoured you. The sounds were obscene, wet, filthy, relentless. You could hear how soaked you were with every thrust of her fingers and every swipe of her tongue.

Your hand tightened in her hair, hips grinding against her mouth. Ellison looked up at you, eyes locked on yours while she sucked your clit and fucked you harder with her fingers. The eye contact was almost too much.

You were close already, the pressure building fast and brutal.

“I’m gonna—fuck—Ellison,” you moaned, the words breaking apart.

She didn’t slow down. If anything, she got more aggressive, sucking harder, fingers pumping faster, growling against your pussy like she needed you to come just as badly as you did.

The orgasm ripped through you violently. You cried out, thighs clamping around her head, body shaking as pleasure flooded every nerve. Ellison kept licking you through it, drawing out every last pulse until you were a trembling, gasping mess on her counter.

When she finally stood up, her chin was wet with you. She kissed you fiercely, letting you taste how much you’d come for her. You reached for her pants immediately, desperate to return the favor, but she caught your wrist with a dark smile.

“Not yet,” she rasped, voice wrecked. “I’m not done with you.”

She pulled you off the counter, spun you around, and bent you over it. Your breasts pressed against the cool marble as she kicked your legs apart. From behind, she reached around and slid her fingers back inside you, fucking you deep while her other hand rubbed your sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, pushing back against her hand, completely lost in the feeling.

Then she saw them.

Her hand slowed as her eyes caught the tattoos you had forgotten about, the ones that had become so much a part of you that they barely registered anymore. A small, “A” was inked on the lower left side of your back, and just above the curve of your ass on the right side sat a “11”. Both of them somewhat hidden, but impossible to miss in this position.

Ellison’s fingers stilled inside you for a second.

You suddenly became hyper aware of them. The marks you’d gotten for Alexia years ago. Still there. Still on your body. The realization hit you like cold water. You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way that went far beyond being naked and bent over her counter.

Ellison traced the “11” with her thumb, then brushed over the “A” on the other side. She didn’t say anything, but you could feel her gaze burning into your skin. She leaned down and kissed the “11” softly, then the “A”, her lips lingering as if she was processing what they meant.

Even as she started moving her fingers again. Slower.

Deeper

Your mind was spiraling.

Overthinking.

The pleasure was still there, but it was now tangled with guilt, shame, and memories of your Alexia. Her mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting softly while her thumb circled your clit with devastating precision.

You were trembling, so close again, when your phone started ringing from inside your purse.

You reached for it with a trembling hand.

Ellison felt you tense instantly. Her mouth slowed against your shoulder, her fingers still buried deep inside you as her other hand settled carefully at your waist.

Alexia.

The screen lit up with a flood of angry texts.

Your stomach sank.

The phone kept ringing, vibrating angrily in your palm. You stared at the name, the heat that had been consuming you moments ago now clashing violently with a cold rush of tension.

You set the phone down without answering. The ringing finally stopped, but the damage was done. Frustration swirled in your chest.

Then something else took over.

You turned around sharply, grabbed Ellison’s face with both hands, and kissed her hard, desperately. She made a surprised sound against your mouth before melting into it, kissing you back. You pushed her backward, guiding her out of the kitchen and down the short hallway toward what you thought it was her bedroom.

The moment you reached the bed, you pushed her down onto it. Ellison looked up at you as you climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. You kissed her deeply again, grinding down against her as your hands roamed over her body.

For a few blissful moments, it worked. The heat returned. You kissed down her neck, her chest, tasting her skin while your hand slipped between her thighs. Ellison moaned softly, arching up into your touch, her hands gripping your ass.

But then it happened.

As you hovered over her, looking down at her flushed face and parted lips, Alexia’s face flashed in your mind. Alexia’s voice. The way she used to look at you before everything fell apart. The betrayal. The call. The anger.

You froze on top of Ellison, breath shaky.

Suddenly the heat in your body felt wrong. The anger you felt toward Alexia twisted painfully in your chest until your eyes started to burn.

Ellison noticed immediately. Her hands moved up to your waist, gentle and grounding.

“Hey… hey, look at me,” she said softly.

You tried to blink the tears back, but one slipped down anyway, landing on Ellison’s chest. Your throat tightened.

“I can’t…” you whispered, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You climbed off Ellison quickly, legs unsteady. She sat up, confusion written across her face as you hurried out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen, still completely naked.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t,” you kept repeating under your breath, the words tumbling out as you gathered your scattered clothes from the floor. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your blouse, your pants, your underwear.

Ellison followed you out, pulling a loose robe around herself, looking shocked and concerned.

“Hey, wait, what’s going on?” she asked, voice gentle but clearly thrown off. “What happened?”

You didn’t look at her. You just kept dressing, fumbling with the buttons on your blouse.

“Who was it?” she asked. “On the phone?”

You shook your head, eyes glassy. “I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t. I don’t know.”

You grabbed your phone and opened the Uber app with trembling fingers, requesting a ride. Ellison stood a few feet away, watching you, still trying to understand the sudden shift.

You zipped up your pants and slipped your heels back on, repeating softly, “I’m sorry… I really can’t right now.”

Ellison took a slow step closer but didn’t crowd you. “Okay… talk to me. What just happened?”

You finally looked at her, eyes wet. “Can we talk about it another day?” Your voice was small and exhausted. “Please?”

Ellison studied you for a long moment, then gave a slow nod, even though she was clearly unsettled.

“Yeah… okay,” she said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The Uber notification pinged on your phone. You grabbed your purse, hesitating for half a second at the door.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For tonight. I’m really sorry.”

Fractured Pieces - From the Broken Vows series

The dining table is a battlefield of school supplies.

Pencils roll dangerously close to the edge, erasers are scattered across the wooden surface, and Nora’s workbook is flipped open to a page she’s half-heartedly working on. You already know how this will end—she’ll finish her assignment, push her chair back, and run off without a second glance at the mess.

Then, you’ll call her back. She’ll groan. You’ll ask again. She’ll groan louder. You’ll threaten no screen time. She’ll sigh dramatically and say, 'Mom, in a minute! I’m playing.'

You already know the script.

Right now, though, she’s pretending to concentrate, tongue poking out slightly as she grips a red pencil and presses it into the paper a little too hard. You watch her from across the table, chin resting on your hand.

"Nora, careful. You’re going to rip the page."

She loosens her grip but doesn’t look up. "I know."

You hide a smile. She’s stubborn, just like her other mom.

For a few blissful moments, the only sound is the faint scratch of her pencil against paper. It’s peaceful, almost.

Then—

"Mom?"

There’s something about the way she says it that makes you pause.

"Yeah, baby?"

She finally lifts her head, eyes wide, brows scrunched together in that serious way that makes her look too grown for her little face.

"Why isn’t Mama here anymore?"

The question slams into your chest like a freight train.

You choke. Literally choke. Air catches in your throat, and for a second, all you can do is blink at her, heart pounding.

"What do you mean, baby?" You force a smile, keeping your voice light. "Mama’s always here."

Nora’s lips press together in a tight line. She’s not buying it.

"No, she’s not. You don’t sleep in the same bed anymore."

Your stomach twists.

"Abi said you and Mama are breaking up. She said that’s what happens when parents don’t love each other anymore."

Your jaw clenches.

"Abi said that?"

Nora nods, playing with the corner of her workbook. "Yeah. Her parents don’t live together anymore, so she knows stuff. She said first you stop sleeping in the same room, then one moves out, and then… then they don’t love each other anymore."

There’s an ache in your chest so sharp it’s hard to breathe.

"Sweetheart," you start gently, reaching across the table to brush a curl from her face. "That’s not what’s happening, okay?"

Nora’s nose scrunches. "Then why doesn’t Mama sleep here?"

You hesitate—too long. She notices.

"She just… needed to stay closer to training and the city for a little while," you lie.

It’s a bad lie. Even you don’t believe it.

"Then why can’t we live there too?"

You open your mouth, then close it again.

"Because… her apartment is small. It wouldn’t fit all of our stuff, would it?"

Nora stares at you. Unblinking.

"But it’s just for now," you add quickly, too quickly.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to work out a puzzle with missing pieces. You can see the gears turning in her little head, the doubt creeping in.

You swallow. This is going to come back and bite you. You know it will.

After a long moment, she looks down, dragging a finger over the edge of the page.

"Is it going to take long?" she asks quietly. "For her to come back?"

Your heart shatters.

"No, baby," you whisper, stroking her hair. "It’s going to pass faster than you think."

She doesn’t look up. She doesn’t believe you. You don’t either.

"I miss her," she murmurs. "Iris misses her too."

Your throat tightens.

"I know," you say, and it’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.

She doesn’t push anymore. Just nods, picks up her pencil, and goes back to her homework. But the mood has shifted. There’s a weight in the air that wasn’t there before.

You glance at the clock. It’s late.

"Finish this last part, and then we’ll clean up, okay?" you say, trying to steady yourself.

"Can’t you do it?" she groans.

"Nope." You stand, stretching. "Your homework, your responsibility."

She huffs, slumping over the table dramatically. "Ugh. Fine."

You don’t answer, already walking toward the kitchen, heart still pounding. You grab the baby monitor, checking the screen. Iris is curled up in her bed upstairs, one tiny fist resting against her cheek.

She’s been clinging to you more than ever lately. So much so that even her naps are restless unless she knows you’re nearby.

You exhale slowly.

Maybe therapy wouldn’t be a bad idea. For them. For you.

Your phone sits on the counter, screen dark now, but you remember the morning—

Alexia had called earlier, just after breakfast. You had picked up.

"Hey," she had said, voice careful, almost too soft. "I wanted to talk about Nora’s birthday. What are we getting her?"

You kept your voice even. "She wants a new bike. Says her old one is too small now."

"Yeah, I remember her saying that," Alexia murmured. There was a pause, then— "Do you want to pick it out together?"

You blinked, caught off guard. That wasn’t what you expected.

"Uh… if you want."

"I think we should," she said, her voice careful. "I mean… it’s her birthday. We should do this together."

The words made your stomach twist. They were reasonable. Too reasonable. Like she was trying too hard to sound normal.

You hesitated. You didn’t want to do this with her. But you had to.

"Yeah," you said finally. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoed, softer this time. Then, "And what else? What should we get her?"

You exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers against your temple. "She’s been asking for more art supplies. I was thinking of putting together a little kit."

"That’s a good idea," Alexia said. Then, after a beat, "Maybe we can pick those out together too?"

There was something about the way she said it. Careful. Testing the waters.

You didn’t want to. Not really.

"If you want."

"I do."

Silence stretched between you, long enough that you could hear your own pulse in your ears.

"How is she?" Alexia asked. "And Iris?"

"They’re good," you said, even though good wasn’t the right word.

Another pause.

"And you?"

The question felt dangerous. Too close to something you weren’t willing to touch.

"I’m fine," you answered, because anything else would be too much.

Alexia hesitated again, like she was on the verge of saying something more.

"Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? We can go together."

Your stomach twisted again, this time sharper. No. That was your first instinct. But then you thought about Nora, about the way she still checked the front door at night, as if hoping Alexia might walk through it.

"I’ll drive there," you said instead. "We can meet at the mall."

There was a slight pause before she responded, hesitant. "Okay."

You swallowed hard.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, all leading to the same realization—tomorrow, you’d have to see her. Spend time with her. Go through the motions.

You weren’t ready. But you’d do it anyway.

For Nora. For Iris.