𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 | ᴊᴀᴠɪᴇʀ ᴘᴇɴᴀ |

~ 12 ~

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

[JAVIER PEÑA POV]

Descending in the elevator, I checked my watch. It was 9 p.m. sharp. I hadn't told Madison and her coworkers I'd join them tonight. The decision was spur-of-the-moment, a sudden urge to see her again. I adjusted my dark green shirt, the first three buttons undone, and smoothed out the black linen trousers I wore. I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. Would they still be there, waiting?

When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped into the lobby and was greeted by the sound of their laughter. It echoed across the marble floors, filling the vast space. Mark, Sarah, and Madison were huddled together, lost in their own world. They all looked great, but Madison stole my breath away. She wore a short red dress that barely reached her mid-thighs, strapless, with a neckline that invited my imagination to wander. For a moment, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

As I approached, Madison's eyes met mine. For a few seconds, we locked gazes, the rest of the world fading away. But the spell was broken when Mark clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's get going!"

The club was only five minutes away, and Mark had secured a VIP table for us. Once inside, the night unfolded like a movie on fast-forward. Mark and Sarah danced with abandon, returning to the table intermittently to catch their breath and chat. I stayed put, nursing my whiskey and observing. Madison, on the other hand, was a whirlwind on the dance floor. Random guys and a few women approached her, drawn to her energy, but they never stayed long. She was clearly enjoying herself, but after a couple of hours, it was obvious to everyone that she was drunk.

I couldn't help but frown as I watched her, swirling my whiskey glass. She looked so carefree, yet there was a wildness in her eyes that made me uneasy. Mark's laughter broke my concentration.

"What's so funny?" I asked, looking at him.

He and Sarah were smiling knowingly. "You," Mark said, pointing his finger at me. "You haven't taken your eyes off her all night."

I tried to act nonchalant. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sarah shook her head, still smiling. "Come on, Javier. It's obvious. You like her."

I was silent, my mind racing. Mark leaned in, his expression more serious now. "She might be tough at work, but she's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. Not many get to see her like this—open, vulnerable. She's had a rough go of it."

Before I could respond, a loud crash drew our attention. Madison had dropped her glass, and the people around her were either laughing or trying to help. She was apologizing profusely, her words slurred. I stood up, making a decision.

"I'm taking her back to the hotel," I announced. "You two okay with that?"

"Go ahead," Sarah said, giving me a reassuring nod.

As I approached Madison, the smell of alcohol was strong. She looked at me, her eyes glassy. "Javier, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she kept repeating.

"It's okay, Madison. Let's get you back to the hotel," I said, guiding her out of the club.

In the elevator, Madison started crying. "I'm a shitty person, Javier. I hate myself."

"Hey, hey, that's not true," I said, trying to console her. Her words tumbled out, a litany of self-loathing and regret.

"I fucking left everything and everyone and ran away, I'm such a coward," she cried. "My brothers, I left them with my parents."

"Maddie it's not your fault that you chose your welfare over all," I tried to calm her down.

She denied. "Even my granmother, she was the only one who had always supported me."

"Hey, stop blaming yourself for everything."

She took a deep breath as we entered the elevator. "She died and I wasn't there for here Javi," she said crying.

The way she said my name sent shivers through my spine. "Madison don't say that."

Her hand reached ny arm as if she was trying to find some support. "She was my support, she always was there for me and, I couldn't be there in her finsl days."

When we reached her room, I took the key from her purse and opened the door. I helped her to the bed, then opened the balcony doors to let in some fresh air, as it was hot inside. Madison continued to cry, blaming herself for not being there for her grandmother, for feeling like she had failed in every aspect of her life.

"Madison, please. You're not a failure," I said, kneeling to get some water from the minifridge. "Do you want some water?"

She didn't respond, and when I looked up, my heart skipped a beat. Madison was heading for the balcony, her hands gripping the handrail. Panic surged through me. I dropped the bottle and rushed to her, grabbing her and pulling her back inside.

"Don't do this, Madison," I said, my voice trembling. "There are people that care about you."

She fought against me, her fists pounding weakly against my chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. "That's not true! No one care about me! Why don't you just let me do this, you always have to stop me, I hate you!."

I held her tightly, laying in bed with her, not letting go until the punches stopped and her crying began to subside. Her breathing gradually slowed, and she relaxed in my arms.

As she finally drifted into sleep, I carefully got out of bed, closed the balcony door, and locked it. I went to her purse to return the key and noticed two pill bottles inside. My heart sank as I read the labels—antidepressants and sleeping pills. I looked back at her, feeling a wave of guilt and sorrow.

I approached Madison again, gently removing her heels. Her dress had ridden up, revealing more than I was comfortable seeing, given our history. I pulled the cover sheet over her. "Descansa, preciosa (Have some rest, beautiful)," I whispered leaving a kiss on her forehead.

I stood there for a moment, watching her sleep. Why was she like this? What had brought her to such a breaking point? The answers eluded me, but one thing was clear—I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

She acted so normal by day, so rough, so hard on herself and on everyone who approached her, and the reality was just another, she was suffering.

As I left her room, I knew I had to find a way to help her, to show her that she wasn't alone. The guilt I felt for my actions the other night weighed heavily on me, but this was no longer about me. It was about Madison, and the fragile soul hidden beneath her tough exterior.

[To be continued...]