41

41
Javier

Two weeks.  
Fourteen days had passed since everything fell apart, but to me, it felt like time had stopped.  
Each second dragged on, a cruel reminder of what I couldn’t change. My office had become my refuge, my cell. I had spent the last few days buried here, surrounded by piles of papers and empty whiskey bottles. I did nothing with real purpose. The hours were spent staring at the desk, my gaze lost at the same point, as if waiting for some miracle to happen.  
The documents in front of me were important, I knew that. Some carried alarming numbers that should have demanded my attention, contracts waiting for signatures, and decisions that only I could make.  
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.  
My men had started to understand that it was pointless to come in here to demand answers. Marco had taken over some of the responsibilities that belonged to me, while the rest of the world seemed to adjust to my state of denial.  
I lifted my eyes for a moment, gazing out the window. The sunlight filtered through the poorly closed curtains, but even it seemed cold, lifeless. I vaguely remembered when the light of day used to energize me, when the idea of facing the world was a challenge I gladly accepted. Now, the mere thought of stepping outside of this office made me feel nauseous.  
Camille.  
Her name was a knife driven into my chest. I thought of her constantly, but I couldn’t look at her. Not since that day in the hospital. I remembered seeing her fragile, so different from the stubborn, strong woman who always faced the world with her head held high. The moment I knew what had happened, I felt as though something inside me had been ripped out. And worse, I did nothing to comfort her.  
How could I?  
I failed her. I failed our child.  
My chest tightened, and the pain surged like a punch. I breathed deeply, trying to dissipate it, but it didn’t relent. It never did. I opened the drawer to the right of the desk and grabbed another glass of whiskey, my only constant companion these past few weeks. The golden liquid slid down my throat, burning, but not enough to erase the memories.  
— Javier.  
Marco’s deep voice pulled me from my trance. He was standing in the doorway, a mix of exhaustion and concern on his face. I knew he had been patient with me, but even Marco’s patience had its limits.  
— What is it now? — I asked, my voice hoarse and dragged.  
He ignored my tone, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.  
— This needs to stop.  
I rolled my eyes, turning back to the papers in front of me, though the words were just smudges without meaning.  
— I have no idea what you’re talking about.  
Marco walked up to my desk, grabbed the glass of whiskey from my hand, and firmly set it aside.  
— You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been hiding here ever since Camille went home. You haven’t seen her, you haven’t talked to her. She’s facing this alone, Javier.  
His words hit me like a slap, but I didn’t let it show.  
— She doesn’t need me — I said, my voice heavy with bitterness.  
— Don’t be an idiot — Marco retorted, leaning over the desk. — She needs you now more than ever. And, to be honest, you need her too.  
I looked at him, my anger starting to mix with something deeper: shame. I knew he was right. I knew my absence must be hurting Camille, but the thought of facing her... of looking into her eyes and seeing my own failure, paralyzed me.  
— I can’t, Marco — I admitted, lowering my gaze. — Every time I think about looking at her, I remember what happened. What I lost. What we lost.  
Marco sighed, running a hand through his hair.  
— Do you think you’re suffering alone? That she doesn’t feel this pain too? That she’s not blaming herself? Javier, both of you lost something important. Both of you are hurting. But if you keep pushing her away, you’re going to lose Camille too.  
His words hung in the air. He straightened up and stared at me, waiting for an answer, but I couldn’t say anything. Finally, he shook his head, frustrated, and turned to leave.  
— Think about it — he said before leaving and closing the door behind him.  
The silence returned, but it was different this time. Marco’s words echoed in my mind, an uncomfortable truth I couldn’t ignore. I was losing her.  
I pushed the chair back and stood up. My legs were heavy, as if I hadn’t walked more than a few steps around the office in weeks. I walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Morning light flooded the room, and I could see the garden outside. It was there I imagined Camille. She had always liked spending the mornings among the plants, but I didn’t know if she still did. It had been weeks since I’d seen her.  
I sat back down, burying my face in my hands. I needed to get out of here. I needed to see her. But how? What could I say? What could I do to fix all of this?  
Hours passed, or maybe minutes, I couldn’t tell. I lost track of time as I battled with my own thoughts, hearing the soft sound of the door opening. I didn’t bother to lift my gaze, since whoever it was probably didn’t have anything new to tell me.  
— I brought clean clothes. — Carmen’s familiar voice broke the silence.  
I glanced at her as she walked across the office with determined steps, a stack of folded clothes in her arms. Her presence was always marked by a mix of authority and care, and today was no different. Carmen didn’t ask if she could enter or if I wanted the clothes. She just acted, as she always did.  
She placed the stack carefully on the desk, moving a few messy papers to clear space. Then, she stared at me, hands on her hips and forehead furrowed.  
— I thought you might need this — she said, her tone practical, but there was something more in her voice. A note of concern.  
— You didn’t have to bother — I replied, emotionless. I turned my gaze back to the papers in front of me, but I wasn’t reading anything.  
— Javier. — She said my name in a way that forced me to lift my eyes. Her look was firm, but there was no judgment there. — You did need this.  
Carmen was the only person who dared to face me without fear. Maybe because she had known my family forever, or maybe because she simply didn’t care about the consequences. Either way, she never hesitated to tell me what she thought I needed to hear.  
— You’ve been hiding here for weeks — she continued, gesturing to the office around us. — I know you’re suffering, but this... this isn’t a way to live.  
— I’m living the way I can — I answered, my tone cold.  
— No, you’re not. — She crossed her arms, her face expressionless. — You’re surviving. And poorly.  
I fell silent, clenching my jaw. I didn’t want to hear this, but I knew she was right. Carmen was always right, even if I hated admitting it.  
— Camille needs you — she said, stepping forward. — And you know that.  
I swallowed hard, avoiding her gaze.  
— I don’t know how to help — I admitted, my voice softer than I intended.  
— Start by helping yourself. — Carmen moved closer to the desk, leaning in to look me in the eyes. — Take a shower. Put on those clean clothes. Eat something decent. Then, go to her and be present. You don’t need to say anything fancy. Just be there.  
I laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.  
— It sounds easy when you put it that way.  
— It’s not easy. — Carmen’s tone hardened. — But it’s necessary. You’re starting to love her, I know that.  
The question took me by surprise, but the answer came instantly.  
— You’re right.  
She nodded, as if she already knew what I was going to say.  
— Then act like you love her. Because right now, you’re doing the opposite.  
Her words were a direct hit. I ran my hand over my face, tired and defeated. It wasn’t the first time someone had said this to me, but coming from Carmen, it sounded different. She wasn’t trying to attack me. She was trying to wake me up.  
— I’ll think about it — I muttered, without much conviction.  
She huffed, impatient.  
— Don’t think about it, Javier. Do it.  
Before I could respond, Carmen straightened up, smoothing her apron as if trying to calm herself.  
— I’ll have someone bring food. And I expect you to eat. — She started walking toward the door, but stopped before leaving, turning to me one last time. — Oh, and one more thing.  
— What? — I asked, looking at her.  
— Camille doesn’t need a perfect Javier. She just needs you. Even broken, even lost. Just you.  
I stood still, her words echoing in my head long after she had left the office. As much as I wanted to ignore them, they stuck with me like an inescapable truth.  
I looked at the pile of clean clothes on the desk. As simple as it was, it was a gesture loaded with meaning. It was Carmen’s way of saying, without words, that I needed to start somewhere. Even if it was something as small as putting on a clean shirt.  
I took a deep breath, running my hand over my face once more. Maybe she was right. Maybe I had been hiding, avoiding reality. But I couldn’t keep going like this.  
I stood up from the chair and grabbed the clothes. It was a fresh start.