HE COMES AT NIGHT

5

Armando’s expression darkened further, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tightened and his fists clenched. He couldn’t stand the thought of Jessica brushing off her injuries, downplaying the danger she had been in tonight. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and then, without warning, he pulled out his phone.

“I’m calling a female doctor,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “She’ll come here and check you thoroughly. You need to be looked at properly.”

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she folded her arms across her chest. “Armando, I told you I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

But Armando wasn’t listening. He was already dialing the number, his focus now completely on making the call. His need for control in this situation was taking over, his mind set on ensuring her safety—even if she didn’t want it. Jessica’s resistance only made his protective instincts flare stronger.

She stood there, watching him, her frustration building. It wasn’t just about the pain or the attack anymore. It was about everything—how he was always making decisions for her, always dictating what was best without considering how she felt.

“Why can’t you just let me decide what I need?” she snapped, her voice sharp. “I don’t want a doctor, Armando. I don’t want you controlling every part of my life!”

He paused, his fingers stilling over the phone as he turned to face her, his expression unreadable. There was a tension in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap. But instead, he took a slow breath, his voice low and controlled when he spoke.

“I’m not controlling you, Jess,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “Is that what this is? Because all I see is you dragging us deeper into your mess—into a life I never asked for.”

Armando’s face tightened, the guilt and frustration boiling beneath the surface. He knew she was right, to some extent. His world had bled into hers, and now both she and Alvaro were caught in the crossfire. But he couldn’t just let her go unchecked after what had happened. Not after she had been attacked, hurt, right in their home.

“Jess…” he began, his voice softer this time, almost pleading. “Please, let me do this. For once, just let me take care of you.”

Jessica’s resolve faltered for a brief moment, the weariness of the night catching up with her. She was exhausted—emotionally, physically, and mentally. But there was still that part of her that couldn’t let go of the resentment, the feeling that she was losing herself in this life Armando had built.

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, seeing the man she once loved and the man who had put her in this impossible situation. Her chest ached—not just from the injury, but from the weight of everything they had become.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Armando,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just need you to stop putting us in danger.”

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite place. Then, without another word, he turned back to his phone and made the call.

Jessica stood there in silence, her arms wrapped around herself as she listened to him speak to the doctor, arranging for her to come to the penthouse immediately. There was no point arguing with him anymore—she knew that. He was relentless when it came to things like this, and no matter how much she resisted, he would find a way to get what he wanted.

But as she stood there, watching him handle things with the same cold efficiency he used in every aspect of his life, she couldn’t help but feel the distance growing between them. The love they once shared seemed buried beneath layers of control, anger, and fear. And she wasn’t sure if they could ever find their way back to each other.

When Armando finally hung up, he turned to her again, his expression softer now but still filled with determination.

“The doctor will be here in an hour,” he said, his tone gentler. “You need to rest until then.”

Jessica didn’t respond. She just turned away, walking over to the crib where Alvaro lay sleeping peacefully. She gently stroked his soft hair, her heart aching at the sight of her son—the innocent boy caught in the middle of this storm.

Armando watched her, his gaze lingering on her slender frame, the exhaustion etched into her posture. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay. But he knew that words weren’t enough anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

As the silence stretched between them, the tension remained, unspoken but heavy in the air. And though they were both standing in the same room, it felt like they were miles apart.

Jessica turned her head slightly, glancing back at him. “I’m going to sleep,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “You can stay if you want. But don’t expect me to be okay with any of this.”

With that, she walked away, disappearing into the bedroom and leaving Armando alone with his thoughts. He stood there for a moment, staring after her, his chest tight with the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and sank into the nearby chair, the weight of his world pressing down on him once more.