𝐖𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

•the one thing she said she'd never do (Mapí Leon)

The tension had been building for days, simmering beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break. Mapi and I had been dating for over a year now, our relationship strong and passionate, but lately, cracks had started to appear. It all came to a head one evening after a particularly heated argument.

We were in Mapi's apartment, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The argument had started innocently enough, a comment about work that somehow spiraled into accusations and hurtful words. But it wasn't until Jenni, a mutual friend, entered the conversation that things took a darker turn.

"You know, Jenni was all over you at the party last week," Mapi accused, her voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

I bristled, defensive. "It's not like I encouraged her. She's just friendly."

Mapi scoffed, her jaw tightening. "Friendly? She was practically flirting with you, and you didn't even bother to stop it."

I felt my own anger rising. "I didn't think it was a big deal. You know I'm with you."

"Exactly!" Mapi exclaimed, her voice rising. "You're with me, not her. You should have shut it down."

The tension crackled between us, each word like a blow in the growing storm. And then, in a moment of blind frustration, Mapi gestured wildly, her hand inadvertently striking my arm. It wasn't hard, but the impact triggered something deep within me—a childhood memory I had long buried.

Suddenly, I was transported back to a time when raised voices and angry gestures had meant danger. The fear and helplessness I had felt as a child flooded back, overwhelming me. Without a word, I recoiled, stumbling backward as tears welled up in my eyes.

Mapi's expression shifted from anger to concern as she reached out to me, her voice pleading in Spanish for me to stay. But in that moment, I couldn't hear her. All I could hear was the echo of my past, the echoes of pain and fear that I thought I had left behind.

I turned away, my heart pounding in my chest, and fled from her apartment without looking back. The cool night air hit my face as I hurried down the street, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing through me.

Mapi's calls followed me, desperate and pleading, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. My mind was a jumble of memories and confusion, grappling with the sudden resurgence of old wounds.

Hours passed before I finally stopped, finding myself in a quiet park illuminated by soft lamplight. I sank onto a bench, tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggled to calm my racing thoughts. The ache in my chest was a painful reminder of how fragile and raw emotions could be, how easily they could unravel even the strongest bonds.

Eventually, my phone buzzed with messages from Mapi, each one a plea for forgiveness and understanding. I took a deep breath, wiping away tears as I read her heartfelt apologies and declarations of love. Her words were like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of my own turmoil.

But even as I longed to reach out to her, to find solace in her arms, I knew that healing would take time. The wounds, both old and new, needed to be acknowledged and tended to.

As I sat alone in the quiet of the park, I made a silent promise to myself and to Mapi—that we would face this storm together, that we would learn from our mistakes and nurture the love that had brought us together in the first place. And when I was ready, when my heart had healed enough to embrace her again, I would return to her side, ready to rebuild what had been shaken but not broken by the tempest of our argument.