Nothing to Say

As I made my way back to the group, still feeling the high from performing, Tara practically pounced on me.

"Oh my God, Lena," she squealed, grabbing my arm and shaking me lightly. "That was perfect. Your voice? Are you kidding me?"

Freddie, equally animated, clapped his hands together. "Seriously, seriously. You've been holding out on us!"

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. "I don't really sing anymore."

Tara furrowed her brows. "Why not?"

I exhaled, running a hand through my damp curls. "I don't know... I guess I just don't have much to say."

Freddie gave me a look. "That's bullshit." His voice was softer than usual. "Your voice says things even when you don't. That performance? It felt like something."

I didn't know how to respond, so I just shrugged, offering a small smile.

Then, suddenly, a voice behind me—low and smooth, teasing but familiar—spoke in English.

"Look who's back in town."

I turned quickly, my wet curls whipping over my shoulder, and saw her.

Sofía.

A sharp jolt of recognition shot through me. She looked almost exactly the same as she did in high school—bronzed skin, dark curls falling in perfect waves down her back, warm brown eyes that held the same mischievous glint I used to fall for.

"Dios mío," I breathed, my lips curling into a grin. "Sofía?"

"In the flesh." She smirked and held her arms out, and I stepped into them without hesitation.

She smelled like coconut oil, salt water, and the kind of nights where we'd sneak out and drink cheap rum under the stars.

When we pulled apart, I turned back to the group. "Guys, this is Sofía." I hesitated for only a second before adding, "My high school ex."

Freddie let out an excited ooooh while Tara's eyes widened in interest. "Wait, what? Ex?"

Sofía grinned. "We were each other's first heartbreak."

Freddie placed a dramatic hand over his chest. "This just keeps getting better."

Meanwhile, Stefani remained quiet.

I could feel her presence at my side, could almost hear the tension rolling off of her. She offered a polite smile, but it was too polite, too practiced.

I glanced at the group. "Hey, would you guys be okay walking back without me? I just wanna catch up for a bit."

Tara waved a hand. "Of course! We'll be fine."

Freddie winked at me. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I rolled my eyes, and Sofía let out a low chuckle.

Stefani didn't say anything.

I didn't look at her before walking away.

—

Sofía and I sat at the bar, drinking slowly, our conversation dipping between easy reminiscing and catching up on lost time.

"So," she started, twirling the straw in her glass, "you're living the dream now, huh?"

I exhaled. "Something like that."

She studied me, lips pursed in thought. "You don't seem happy."

I let out a dry laugh. "That obvious?"

She smirked. "I know you, mami."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt an odd ache in my chest. Nostalgia, maybe.

She tilted her head. "What are you thinking about?"

I hesitated, then shook my head. "That I can't do this. Us."

She didn't look surprised, just nodded. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

She squeezed my hand. "Don't be. I'm just happy to see you again."

The tension in my chest loosened slightly. "Me too."

We stayed at the bar a little longer before she walked me back to my aunt's house.

—

The house was dark when I slipped inside, the only sounds the distant hum of coquí frogs and the gentle rustling of palm trees outside.

I tiptoed through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone, but when I reached my bedroom, I hesitated.

Stefani was lying in bed, facing the wall. She was still, but I could tell she was awake.

I stripped out of my damp clothes, leaving only my underwear and a thin tank top before sliding into bed, facing away from her.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, softly—

"Where's your friend?"

Her voice was quiet, but there was something underneath it. Something raw.

I swallowed. "She walked me back. We just talked. Reminisced."

A pause. Then, "Is that true?"

I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "Yes."

Another long silence.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, I turned onto my side to face her.

She was already looking at me.

In the dim light, I could see the tired lines around her eyes, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding something in.

Stefani reached out and placed a hand on my face, her fingers warm against my skin.

And suddenly, everything I had been pushing down—everything I had been forcing myself to ignore—broke.

My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, the tears came.

Stefani didn't say anything. She just pulled me into her arms.

I buried my face in her shoulder, my body shuddering as she held me.

She kissed my head, her lips lingering for a second longer than they should have.

Neither of us spoke.

We just lay there, tangled together, until sleep finally took us both.

I woke up to the warmth beside me missing.

My arms instinctively reached out, but the sheets were empty, slightly cool. My stomach twisted as I blinked myself awake, the weight of reality settling on my chest like a stone.

Stefani was gone.

I pulled myself out of bed, every movement sluggish, every breath heavy. My head ached—not from drinking, but from the exhaustion of pretending.

I reached for a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, dragging them over my body before stepping out into the hallway. My feet moved on autopilot, but before I could reach the kitchen, I stopped.

A voice.

Two voices.

I pressed myself against the wall, my breath caught in my throat.

"Era una niña feliz," my tía murmured. "Pero algo cambió. Hay una oscuridad en ella ahora."

She was talking about me.

A pause. Then, Stefani's voice, softer, but filled with knowing. "I know."

My stomach twisted.

"She never talks about it," my tía continued. "But I know why."

A silence stretched between them. Then, my tía sighed.

"Es por ella," she said, her voice heavy with meaning.

Stefani was quiet, waiting.

"La última novia de Lena."

I gripped the doorway, bracing myself.

"We don't say her name anymore," my tía continued. "Lena won't. But she was it for her. They were together for years. And then, a year ago..." She exhaled shakily. "They were driving home late one night. They started fighting about something—I don't know what, maybe something stupid. But her girlfriend got distracted, lost control."

A lump formed in my throat.

"The car crashed."

Silence.

My tía lowered her voice, like saying it out loud made it more real.

"Lena walked away." A pause. "Ella no."

Stefani inhaled sharply.

"When?" she asked, almost breathless.

"A year ago."

Another pause.

Then, my tía sighed again, as if she could physically feel the weight of it. "She has a heaviness that cannot be lifted."

Something inside me snapped.

A sharp, searing pain tore through my chest, and before I could stop myself, the sob crawled out of my throat. My hand flew to my mouth, but I knew they heard it. I turned, ran, grabbing my sandals and pushing out the door before my name could even leave Stefani's lips.

—

The sand was still damp from the night's tide, cool against my burning skin.

I dropped to my knees, my chest heaving, my nails digging into the earth as sobs racked through me.

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this.

I had buried it.

I had locked it away, thrown the key into the deepest part of the ocean.

But hearing it in someone else's voice—Stefani knowing—it was too much.

Footsteps.

Soft, careful.

Then, a familiar presence settled beside me.

Stefani.

She didn't touch me. She didn't say anything right away. She just waited.

"Go away," I choked out, my voice raw.

She didn't.

I sniffed, dragging my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. "I don't want to do this, Stefani."

Her voice was quiet. "Do what?"

"This." I gestured between us, exhaling sharply. "This thing where you try to fix me. Where you look at me like that."

She was silent for a long moment before she murmured, "How am I looking at you?"

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Like you care. Like I'm someone worth caring about." I turned to face her, my eyes burning. "But I'm not."

Her face was calm, unreadable. "That's not true."

My jaw clenched. "You don't know me, Stefani. You think you do, but you don't."

"I know enough."

I scoffed, turning away. "You don't know what it's like to carry something like this. To wake up every day and feel it crushing you."

She exhaled through her nose, steady. "You think I don't know pain?"

I hesitated.

She shook her head, her voice still calm, but firm. "I know what it's like to carry something too heavy for your own body. I know what it's like to pretend. To smile and laugh and be everything for everyone else when inside you're screaming."

Tears burned my eyes again. "I don't need you to understand me."

"Maybe not," she said softly. "But I'm still here."

That did it.

Something inside me caved, and before I could stop myself, I let out a broken sob.

Stefani moved then.

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me against her, and I let her.

I collapsed into her.

She held me as I cried, her hands warm against my back, her lips pressing softly against my temple.

Neither of us spoke.

Because there was nothing left to say.