I felt vulnerable and exposed as I hastily covered myself with the robe that had hung casually over the railing. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the strings, tightening them around my body, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Enrique's footsteps were getting closer, and I knew I couldn't hide forever. I took a deep breath and turned to face him.

As Enrique entered the room, concern etched across his face, my eyes met his, filled with a mixture of longing and self-doubt. "What— Demiah, what's wrong?" he asked softly, a trace of worry in his voice.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find my voice. I needed to know, to understand why he wanted me, especially when I was so different from the image of perfection that I believed he deserved. "Enrique," I began, my voice quivering, "I need to know. Why do you want me?"

I held my breath as if that would stop the tears from falling. I tried so hard to stop the tears from forming at the corners of my eyes, but the longer I looked at the perfect man in front of me, not just in physical appearance but in everything in between. He was kind, caring, gentle and just too good for me. 

Enrique's expression shifted from concern to confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

I felt my cheeks grow warm, and I took a step back, my hands wrapped tightly around my body. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes. 

I watch as Enrique's eyes draw downward. He had managed to grab a towel from the bathroom and wrap it lowly around his waist before entering his bedroom, but my eyes were drawn to Enrique's physical response; the biology of the moment was impossible to ignore. His body, still exhibiting the signs of our previous encounters, was a testament to his desire, but I had taken a step back, my hands wrapped around my body, keeping the atmosphere strictly within the boundaries of a PG-13 scene.

The air was charged with tension, and I asked him once more, "Enrique, please, I... I just need you to answer the question.

His confusion was evident as he tried to grasp my question. "Demiah, why do I— I don't understand what the fuck you're asking me." An upset crease began to form at the center of his forehead as he replied to me, letting me know that he was beginning to have an inkling on where the conversation was potentially headed.

Avoiding his gaze, I took a deep breath. I needed to be honest with him. It wasn't fair for me to drag to drag this one and push my insecurities and problems onto Enrique, especially not at a time right before we were about to share intimacy, "I'm trying to understand, Enrique. I see you, and you're... you're so attracted to me, but I can't help feeling like I'm not what you should want. Seeing women like Meghan and how..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. Meghan, his ex-girlfriend, was kind, and he still held a place for her in his heart. 

That much could be seen from their interaction.

Enrique's eyes flared with anger as he interrupted me, "Demiah, don't do this. Is that what this is about? Meghan? Because if so, after this divorce, I can stop—"

It's now my turn to interrupt him. "This isn't just about Meghan, Enrique. It has nothing to do with being friends of anything. It's everything!"

My gaze dropped to his bed, and I couldn't help but imagine the beautiful women who had been here before me. The room seemed to close in around us as my voice grew louder, filled with frustration and anger.

My hands were trembling as I expressed the insecurities that had haunted me. Enrique was taken aback by the sudden shift in my tone and the way I started yelling.

Enrique's anger seemed didn't seem to subside, even as he noticed my distress, and he raised his voice even higher, "Demiah, tell me, what do you mean by 'everything'?" He starts. "How can you stand over there and tell me what I should want? I could list all the reasons why I want you, Demiah, why I need you, but ask yourself. Will that make a difference? Will anything that comes out my mouth make a difference to how you feel?" His hands were moving with conviction to show his point.

I watched him, never have thought about his question. A question so simple, yet so... hard. He continues without letting me have a chance to talk, when really— I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. "I don't understand why you're making our relationship so difficult. I'm trying, really trying, to show you how much I fucking love you, but it seems like you refuse to see it. I can't keep allowing you to be with me and then push me to the side only to then take me back when you see convenient." Enrique's eyes burned into mine. I had never seen him so angry yet... calm before. My heart pumped harshly against my chests in regret.

"Enrique, that's not what I was do—" He cut me off before I could continue.

He took a step closer, and the frustration in his eyes was mingled with sorrow. "For ten years, I've searched for you in every woman, in every encounter, but I've found nothing. It's always been you. Why can't you see that, Demiah? Why can't you just let me love you. Why can't— why can't... you just love me?"

Enrique's words hung in the air, and they hit me like a tidal wave. I was stunned, shocked that he had carried this burden for ten long years, searching for me in others, trying to fill the void that was left when we parted ways a decade ago. The realization that he had felt this way, that he had suffered in silence all this time, left me breathless.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find the right words to respond. "Enrique," I began, my voice trembling with emotion, "I do... care about you deeply, but I can't... I can't express it the way I want to. It's not about you. It's about me. I can't get past everything that— so much has happened to me in these past years. I've  just... been hurt so deeply, and it's like... I can't help bringing this baggage everywhere I go."

My heart sank as Enrique's words from before cut through me like a knife. His unamused scoff echoed in the room, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"I know this may come as a bit of a shocker to you, Demiah, but the world didn't stop for me a decade ago," Enrique snapped, his frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. "I've also been through my own shit. The only difference is that I'm not using it as an excuse."

I watched helplessly as he turned away from me, his back rigid, and my eyes filled with tears. The room felt heavy, suffocating, as I realized the depth of the pain I had caused.

I struggled to find her voice, my throat tight with emotion. "Enrique, please," I pleaded, my voice quivering. "I didn't mean to use it as an excuse. I just... I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted that."

But Enrique remained resolute, avoiding my gaze and pulling out a shirt from the drawer. The message was clear, even if he didn't say the words. He wanted me to leave his house.

I tried to remain resolute and keep it together but it was no use. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I began to gather my scattered clothes. My hands trembled, and I could hardly see through my blurry vision. The reality of losing Enrique for the second time was more painful than I could bear.

I looked at Enrique's back, the man I had loved and lost, now standing before me, and the weight of all those years apart felt unbearable. I wanted to tell him what he meant to me, but the pain of my past was a wall I couldn't break through.

Without another word, I turned away from him and left the bedroom, the only evidence of me being in the room was the salty droplets of liquid that I left on the floor where I stood.

I dressed in the hallway, and I took my slow time. Even after I made it downstairs, grabbed my bag and put on my shoes...

Enrique still didn't come after me, and it was a heavy heart that I thought— maybe there was really nothing I could do to fix it this time.

'~~~~|~~~~' 

Sooo sorry for the long wait and very short update guys, but life update! I'm now in medical school which is why I will probably get wayy sloppier with the updates. I'll update at least once a month though, which I know isn't much but I'm really trying guys!

Love.