Relapse

Big Steps

The memory of last night's events lingers in the air as I slowly come to consciousness the next morning. The room is quiet, the soft morning light filtering in through the curtains. I can feel Miguel still nuzzled against my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin.

For a moment, I simply lay there, taking comfort in his presence. The sound of his steady breathing is a soothing rhythm, a reassuring reminder that he's here, that we're together. It's a peaceful moment, a welcome respite from the emotional turmoil of the night before.

But then, the tranquility is shattered by the shrill ringing of a phone. I flinch at the sudden noise, my heart rate spiking as I'm jolted out of my peaceful reverie. Miguel stirs beside me, his breath hitching as he's rudely awakened.

He groans, his hand reaching out to blindly fumble for the offending device. I watch as he squints at the screen, his brow furrowing as he reads the caller ID. I feel a jolt of surprise when I see the name "Elena" flash across his phone's screen. His ex-wife. I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest as a sudden wave of anxiety washes over me. Miguel groans next to me, clearly sharing my sentiment.

With a sigh, he picks up the phone call and puts it on speaker, shifting away from his comfortable position at my neck. His voice is thick with sleep and annoyance when he answers, "What?"

His tone is sharp, a clear indication of his displeasure at being woken up by her call. I hold my breath, waiting to hear Elena's response. Despite my unease, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Miguel's reaction. It's a small comfort, but it's a reminder that he's with me now, not her.

"Miguel, did you forget that today is your day to be with your daughter or what?" Elena says, clearly annoyed. Miguel remains calm in the face of her irritation, responding in kind.

"You said that I only get her on the weekends and it's not the weekend yet," he replies, his voice steady despite the early morning confrontation.

"Yeah, well things changed, I'm busy tonight and need you to take her. So, please act like an adult and get up and come get your daughter. Unless, of course, you're still with that high school student who's still a child herself and you're looking after her today instead," Elena's angry words echo through the room.

Her comments sting, unjustly painting me as an immature child, and I feel a flush of anger. I'm not a high schooler, and I certainly don't need to be looked after. Before I can respond, Miguel's voice cuts through my hurt, his tone matching Elena's in its anger.

"Enough, Elena," he snaps, his voice cold and hard. "I am not your punching bag and neither is Mileena. If you need me to take care of our daughter, you can ask me without insulting either of us."

Elena's voice drips with annoyance as she retorts, "Oh please, don't tell me you're with that skank now and she's listening to me right now."

But Miguel doesn't rise to her bait. Instead, in a move that speaks volumes about his regard for me and his declining tolerance for Elena's disrespect, he simply ends the call.

The room falls into silence once again, the only sound the soft hum of the disconnected call. The abrupt end to the conversation speaks more about Miguel's feelings than any words could. It's a clear message - he won't tolerate anyone insulting me, not even his ex-wife.

Miguel sets his phone down on the nightstand, a frown marring his features. He turns to look at me, his eyes full of apology. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Mileena," he says quietly. "Elena... she can be difficult."

I give him a small, understanding smile. "It's okay, Miguel," I assure him, "I know you have my back."

Noticing his smile, I stay in the bed as he slowly pulls away from me and sits up. As he does, my hand naturally moves to his back, tracing gentle circles on his toned skin. The silence between us is comfortable, a stark contrast to the tense phone call moments ago.