Sorry Comes After Death

Maybe I'd finally snapped, because when I said "divorce," all I felt was peace.

The room went quiet. I just stood there, waiting.

Marco had no reason to say no. Niama was back. Once we were done, he could run straight to her—no drama, no family gossip, no pretending.

Then his phone rang. I knew that sound. Niama's exclusive ringtone.

His eyes flicked with panic. He answered, right in front of me.

Her voice came through loud and needy.

"Marco, I think I caught a cold. Can you take me to the hospital? I called Pedro, but he didn't pick up."

She sounded so fragile, like always.

And just like that, I saw it—that flash of worry in his eyes. I'd told myself I was ready for this, but yeah, it still hurt.

She had a cold and he was falling apart.

Me? I once had a 104 fever. Begged him to take me in. He threw a "call an ambulance" my way and left to check on Niama.

Even now, after I dropped the divorce bomb, he still picked her.

He almost tripped when rushing out, with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Niama, I'm coming. Hang on, okay?"

And when he was gone, it hit me—if she was in the picture, I'd never matter.

Three years. That's how long it took me to finally get it—some hearts? You just can't warm them.

I rummaged through Vivian's room for hours.

I found nothing. Just a diary, cover worn, with Pedro's name all over it.

It started with love. Then came the letdowns. By the end? Pure heartbreak.

The last page hit like a punch:

[From this moment on, I will never love Pedro Domingo again.]

My chest heaved with emotion. It felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing straight through my heart.

Three years back, one night, Vivian blew up my phone.

[Ree, guess who I'm marrying.]

[It's Pedro Domingo.]

[The Prince Charming I told you about.]

[He said he's going to marry me.]

[My family is saved.]

Every message screamed joy.

I knew it wasn't just about saving her family. What really lit her up was marrying Pedro—the guy she'd crushed on for three years.

We talked till 3 a.m. that night.

She was glowing.

Now? That spark was long gone. Six months of silence, and all that joy had shattered into pieces.

I clutched her diary, and somewhere along the way, I fell asleep.

The dream was too real.

Vivian and I were on a snowy mountain. The wind was biting, but she was in this thin coat, totally unbothered.

She raced ahead, face glowing.

"Ree, I made it! I'm at the top! I can't hear anything from the bottom anymore. I'm free!"

Sunlight hit her like she was wrapped in gold.

I started to smile—

Then she fell, slipping backward into the snow. Silent. Gone.

"Vivian!"

I reached out, but my hands caught nothing.

I shot awake, soaked in sweat, heart racing.

It was dark out.

I set the diary down and prepared to head to the place she jumped from.

But as soon as I opened the door, someone was there.

Pedro.

His eyes were like winter.

"Why did Vivian jump?"