HE COMES AT NIGHT

7

Jessica shook her head, the anger giving way to weariness, a tiredness that seemed to sink deep into her bones. “Protect me? Protect us? All I see is you bringing more danger into our lives.” She exhaled a shaky breath, her voice breaking slightly. “I don’t want Alvaro growing up like this. I don’t want him to live in a world where he learns fear before he even learns to walk.”

His hand clenched, the helplessness evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jessica held up a hand, stopping him.

“Just…stop,” she murmured, turning away, too drained to continue arguing. She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing herself to calm down, but her pulse was still racing, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Armando watched her, the silence thickening around them. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to live any other way, Jessica. This… this life—it’s all I know.”

Jessica’s gaze softened, a mixture of pity and sadness crossing her features. “Then maybe that’s the problem,” she said quietly. “Because I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t think I can keep pretending that I’m okay with it.”

The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, and for a moment, Armando looked as if he might say something, but he held back, his expression unreadable. He turned away, grabbing the ice pack, and handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers briefly.

“Just… take it,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You’re only making things worse for yourself if you don’t.”

She hesitated, but the soreness in her chest was relentless, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Reluctantly, she took the ice pack, pressing it against the swollen area. The cold seeped through her shirt, numbing the pain, but it did little to soothe the ache inside her.

Satisfied that she was complying, Armando sat down in the chair by the bedside, his gaze on her, though he said nothing. He seemed lost in thought, his expression tense, conflicted. Jessica glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, the anger fading, replaced by a quiet sadness that weighed on her heart.

“Armando,” she said softly, breaking the silence, “why are you so afraid of letting me go?”

He looked at her, his eyes darkening, a vulnerability flickering in his gaze. “Because… I don’t know how to do this without you,” he admitted, his voice raw, honest. “And because I don’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”

She shook her head slowly, her voice gentle but firm. “But that’s the problem, Armando. You keep trying to control everything around me. And all I want is the chance to feel… free, to feel safe on my own terms.”

For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then his shoulders sagged, a defeated sigh escaping him. He looked down, his fingers tapping against his thigh in a nervous rhythm. “I don’t know if I can change,” he whispered, almost as if admitting it to himself.

Jessica looked away, her heart heavy. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if anything could bridge the growing chasm between them.

After a while, Armando stood up, his movements slow, deliberate. He reached out, brushing a hand over her cheek, his touch lingering, though it felt more like a goodbye than a reassurance. “Get some sleep,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ll check in on Alvaro.”

She nodded wordlessly, pulling the covers over herself as he walked to the crib, bending down to gaze at their sleeping son. His expression softened as he watched Alvaro, the hardened mask he wore slipping, replaced by a tenderness reserved only for his child. Jessica watched him from the bed, a bittersweet pang hitting her heart as she saw a glimpse of the man she had once fallen in love with.

After a moment, he straightened, casting one last look in Jessica’s direction. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Jessica lay there, the silence settling around her, thick and suffocating. She closed her eyes, her mind replaying the conversation, the weight of their words pressing down on her like a heavy stone. She knew that Armando loved her, loved Alvaro. But she also knew that love, in his world, came at a price—a price she wasn’t sure she could keep paying.

Her hand drifted to her chest, fingers brushing over the sore, bruised skin beneath her shirt. She let out a slow, shuddering breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She was terrified—terrified for her child, for herself, for a future that seemed so uncertain, so fraught with danger.

As sleep finally claimed her, her last thought was of Alvaro, and a fierce, protective resolve settled within her. She didn’t know how or when, but she knew she had to find a way out—for his sake, if not for her own.

___

The next morning, Jessica awoke to the faint glow of early sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her body was stiff, every ache and bruise making itself known as she shifted in bed. She was used to enduring pain, but this time, it felt heavier—laden with the emotional toll of last night's conversation with Armando.

Alvaro was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Jessica watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with both love and a sense of urgency. She needed to protect him, to give him a life free from the chaos and darkness that Armando brought with him. But as she considered her options, a knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.