Fired Up

Valeria's POV

The doorbell rings, and I freeze for a second. I've just come back from picking Mateo up from school. The day has been smooth so far, just the usual routine. But when I open the door, I'm met with an unexpected face—Alejandro.

He holds a small gift in his hands, wrapped in vibrant paper. "It's for Mateo," he says curtly, eyes avoiding mine. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else but here. I force a polite smile, stepping aside so he can enter. "Thanks," I reply, trying to keep things civil. "I'll put it in his room."

I don't know why, but his presence always stirs up something in me—a feeling I can't quite explain. He's Mateo's father, but our history has never allowed things to be easy.

As I turn to leave, I spot Lewis in the living room. He's quietly sitting on the couch, his eyes immediately locking with mine. The weight of Alejandro's gaze shifts to Lewis too, and suddenly the air between them becomes thick with tension. I can see the wheels turning in Alejandro's head.

"Your 'man with the fast car' is here, I see," Alejandro says coldly, his tone sarcastic. The words sting, but I don't let it show.

I keep my voice neutral, though it's hard to hide the frustration. "He's here to visit," I reply shortly, unwilling to explain myself any further.

I head toward the kitchen to put Mateo's gift away, but I can feel the icy atmosphere grow as I walk back into the living room. Alejandro doesn't move, staring at Lewis like he's some kind of competition.

Alejandro doesn't hold back, and neither does his sharp tongue. "You think this man is really going to help Mateo?" he says, suddenly getting louder. I tense. "You think he'll be a father figure? He's got his own life, his own priorities. He doesn't care about you, Valeria."

I can feel my patience beginning to snap. "Alejandro," I say, forcing my words through gritted teeth. "This has nothing to do with you anymore. You don't get to control who I spend my time with."

But Alejandro steps closer, his eyes narrowed. "You think you can move on that easily?" he spits out. "You think I won't notice? You really believe you can just put everything behind you and act like nothing happened?"

My heart races. "I am not going to explain myself to you. You've lost that right," I snap back, trying to keep my emotions in check.

But Alejandro is relentless. His gaze moves back to Lewis, looking him over like a threat. "If you think you're going to be some role model for my son, you're wrong," he says, voice low but seething.

Just as the argument begins to escalate, I hear the soft shuffle of feet behind me. I turn, and there stands Mateo, his big brown eyes wide, clearly having overheard everything. He looks at me, then at Alejandro, then at Lewis. He's confused. Scared.

"Mom?" Mateo's small voice breaks through the tension in the room. I feel a pang in my chest, a fresh wave of guilt.

"Why's Dad yelling?" he asks quietly, standing at the edge of the room, clutching the hem of his shirt like it's the only thing holding him together.

Alejandro straightens, offering his son a smile that feels far too forced. "It's nothing, Mateo. We're just talking."

But Mateo isn't fooled. He looks at me again, then glances at Lewis, who's standing near me, his hands clenched in fists, trying to remain calm.

"Es el hombre del coche rápido," Mateo says, his voice small and uncertain. He points toward Lewis, who watches him carefully. "Dijo que vendrá otra vez, ¿no?" (It's the man with the fast car. He said he'd come back, right?)

I look down at Mateo, my heart aching. I never wanted him to be in the middle of this. I want to promise him that everything will be okay, but it feels like I'm not even sure myself.

I force a smile, brushing his hair out of his face. "Yes, Mateo, he'll come back soon. He's a friend."

But Alejandro, whose anger hasn't subsided, cuts in before I can finish. "A friend? Really?" he says with a bitter laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How convenient."

I can feel my frustration building. I'm so tired of the animosity between us. "Alejandro," I warn, my voice shaking, "please leave."

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he steps closer to me, eyes dark and cold. "You think this man is going to be there for you when things get tough? When your world crumbles?" he sneers.

My pulse quickens. "I'm not talking about this with you anymore. I'm not the same woman I was when I was with you," I say firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "You don't get to have any say in who I see, what I do."

I turn to Lewis, who looks like he's holding back, trying to keep himself in check. But I see the way his fists tighten, the way his jaw clenches.

Before I can step in, Alejandro moves towards me, his hand reaching out to grab my arm. His grip is too tight, too forceful. I flinch instinctively, and that's all it takes for Lewis to react.

"Don't touch her!" Lewis roars, stepping forward, his hands pushing Alejandro back.

Alejandro takes a step back, surprised, but doesn't back down. "What's this, huh? You think you can intimidate me?"

"You don't scare me," Lewis growls. "But if you ever touch her again, I'll make sure you regret it."

The air in the room crackles with tension, and for a moment, I think it might escalate into something worse. But just as quickly as it started, the fight simmers down, Alejandro's anger deflating. He gives me one last, hate-filled glare before turning and storming out the door.

I stand frozen, heart pounding in my chest. My mind is still reeling from what just happened, from how quickly everything spiraled. Mateo looks up at me, his small face a picture of worry.

"Mom, is everything okay?" he asks softly, his voice hesitant.

I crouch down to meet his gaze. "It's fine, Mateo. Everything's fine now."

But I know it isn't. I know it's far from fine. The storm between Alejandro and me isn't over—it will never be truly over. And yet, in this moment, with Lewis by my side, I realize that I don't have to carry it alone.

Lewis turns to me, his expression softer than before, but there's a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks gently, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I whisper, more to myself than to him. But even as I say the words, I know the battle is far from over.