Chapter 4

"Day one thousand and twenty-three since the breakup."

"The fire station downstairs changed their siren sound."

"It took me three days to get used to it."

"Before, when that sound went off, I knew he was going on a call."

"I'd lean out the window and watch the fire truck leave."

"Then count the seconds until it came back."

He paused, his Adam's apple rolling violently.

He continued reading.

"Today I passed the mall and smelled cigarette smoke on a man."

"It was Camel brand. He used to smoke those too."

"I stood there in a daze for a long time."

"Everyone around me was staring."

"I pretended to be waiting for someone, but really I was waiting for the tears to go back inside."

At the last sentence, Gustavo's voice completely shattered, like a piece of glass violently smashed on the ground.

"One thousand days since the breakup. Why does the smell of smoke still make me want to cry?"

The notebook hung limply from his hand.

He didn't close it. Just held it there halfway, knuckles white, the blood on the back of his hand already congealed into a dark brown scab.

His eyes were red—not just slightly bloodshot, but the entire whites burned crimson.

The bedroom was quiet as a tomb.

Gustavo lowered his head, his gaze moving from the notebook, slowly, slowly, settling on the cut pink fluffy handcuffs on the floor.

Then—I saw his expression change.

The anger was gone, the mockery was gone, that bone-deep hatred was gone too.

In its place was something I'd never seen on his face before.

That thing was called—heartbreak.

He understood everything now. No other man, no hookup, no one who pulled up their pants and ran.

Just a woman he'd left behind, holding his old photos and a diary full of his name through one thousand and twenty-three nights after the breakup, rotting alone.

Even buying novelty handcuffs—she was playing alone.

I crouched by the bed, burying my face in my knees.

My shoulders shook like leaves in the wind.

Utterly humiliated.

Ares, oh Ares, look at yourself now.

Wearing a lace dress, cornered in your bedroom by your ex-boyfriend.

He read your diary, recited your most pathetic thoughts, saw your ugliest secrets.

In front of him, even your last shred of dignity has been stripped away.

Tears fell heavily onto my knees, spreading dark stains.

I raised my head and forced a smile at him, uglier than crying.

"Satisfied now, Captain Gustavo?"

"Now you know."

"Ares is just this pathetic."

"Three years broken up, can't forget you."

"Are you happy? Can you put this in your incident report?"

I roughly wiped my face with the back of my hand, stood up, and pointed at the bedroom door.

The final order to leave.

"If you've seen enough, get out."

"Please."

"Leave me... just a little bit of dignity."

My voice broke in my throat.

The bedroom fell into a long, dead silence. Gustavo stood motionless.

I thought he would leave. He should leave.

Three years ago, I was the one who broke up with him. I was the one who said "I don't love you anymore." I was the one who packed his things in a box and left it at the door. I was the one who changed my phone number and moved, cutting ties completely.

He had ten thousand reasons to hate me.

He should laugh coldly, slam the door, and leave—that would be the normal script.

But he didn't.

I heard the notebook fall to the floor with a dull, soft thud.

Then footsteps.

One step, two steps, three steps, getting closer.

Close enough that I could smell the smoke from his fire gear, mixed with sweat and the metallic scent of blood.

A hand covered in wounds and dried blood cupped my face.

His palm was rough enough to scrape skin, but his fingertips were trembling badly.

I was forced to lift my head, meeting his eyes.

Red, moist, like a wounded beast with its heart gouged out but refusing to fall.

Gustavo knelt on one knee before me.

This man who had pried open twisted car doors with his bare hands in fires.

This man who had carried two children down from the fifteenth floor through thick smoke.

This man I had pushed away with my own hands and then abandoned.

He knelt before me, cradling my face.

His voice so hoarse it sounded like he was speaking through broken glass.

"Since you miss me so much—"

His thumb wiped across the tear tracks on my face, the pressure so light it was like touching something fragile.

But the emotion churning in his eyes was fierce enough to make your legs weak.

He unbuckled his tactical belt, the metal clasps clanging in the silent bedroom.

Gustavo pressed his forehead against mine, nose tip to nose tip, breath intertwining.

"—why use some cheap toy? Use me."