95 — Don't be there when I get back.

PEDRO

I watched her sprint after him, my heart shattering into a million pieces. I had never felt like such a failure, like such a loser, in my life.

Not only did I lose her, I never got to tell her the truth. I hate myself for my cowardice. I hate the weakling that my father gave birth to.

"I made my choice and she made hers. But why does it hurt so much?" I said, turning to the window and watching their car drive away. I felt hollow and empty, as if a part of me had been ripped away.

A sob wracked my body, and a guttural cry escaped my lips. "He'll never let her see me again," I said, the words like nails in my chest.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, a jarring sound in the stillness of the room. I reached a trembling hand into my pocket and pulled it out.

It was my father calling. I wanted to smash my phone against the floor, to rip it to pieces. I regretted ever trying to mend things with him, regretted the day I honored his request to meet him at the penthouse. I had been a fool, and