Best Mistake ︱Pedri González

17

Luciana's POV

As soon as I got home, I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me. The apartment was empty—Dante still wasn't back. I had about 45 minutes before he'd come through the door, and the panic of being caught swept over me. Without wasting another second, I darted into the bathroom.

I turned the shower on, the water rushing from the faucet like it could wash away not just the scent of sex but the guilt that clung to me. I stood under the hot stream, scrubbing at my skin, shampooing my hair twice, trying to erase any trace of Pedri from my body. My heart pounded in my chest as the minutes ticked by, each one bringing me closer to Dante's arrival.

After drying off, I threw on a simple outfit—a soft sweater and leggings, something comfortable. I didn't have time to think too much about my appearance; I just needed to make everything look normal. I hurried to the kitchen, pulling out the garlic bread I'd bought earlier and getting to work on the pasta. Simple, quick, something I could pass off as a normal dinner without raising suspicions.

As I stirred the sauce, I couldn't stop thinking about Pedri. What we'd just done. The way he made me feel. And then, immediately, the guilt would creep in, reminding me that Dante was the one I was supposed to be with. My mind felt like it was at war with itself, but I pushed those thoughts aside for now.

I plated the garlic bread, setting it on the table with the steaming pasta and a small fruit salad I'd quickly whipped together. Everything looked perfect, as if I'd planned a nice dinner for Dante's return. It was the least I could do, considering everything I was hiding from him.

I put a TV show on, pretending to relax as I waited for him to come home. My heart raced every time I thought I heard the elevator doors down the hall. Then, finally, the key turned in the lock, and Dante walked in.

"Hey, babe," he greeted me, looking tired but happy to see me. He dropped his bag near the door and came over to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi," I smiled, trying to act as casual as possible, though my nerves were still on edge. "I made dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

He glanced at the table, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, you did all this? You didn't have to go to so much trouble."

"It's nothing, really," I said, shrugging it off, though the guilt gnawed at me for the effort I was making to cover my tracks.

We sat down together, and as Dante took his first bite, his face lit up. "This is amazing. I mean, seriously. I didn't expect this after the day I've had."

I smiled, watching him enjoy the meal, but inside, I felt like a fraud. How could I sit here, acting like the perfect girlfriend, when just hours ago, I had been with someone else? The contrast between this peaceful moment and what had happened earlier felt suffocating.

"So, how was work?" I asked, trying to focus on him and our conversation, hoping to steer things away from my spiraling thoughts.

"Same old," Dante replied with a sigh. "Meetings, phone calls, putting out fires... You know how it is."

I nodded, listening as he talked about his day, but part of me was still somewhere else—wondering how I'd gotten into this mess, and how much longer I could keep it from unraveling.

Dante looked up at me with a smile, completely oblivious. "You know, I missed this. Us. It's nice to come home to something like this after a long day."

I forced a smile, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Yeah... me too," I murmured, hoping he couldn't hear the guilt in my voice.

We continued eating, and while Dante seemed relaxed and happy, I felt like every bite I took was heavier than the last. 

After finishing dinner, Dante suggested we watch something before heading to bed. "How about a movie?" he asked, settling into the couch with a contented sigh, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

I hesitated, knowing every minute spent with him was just another layer of guilt piling on, but I nodded, forcing a smile. "Sure. You pick."

Dante scrolled through the streaming options and chose something light—a romantic comedy. He seemed in such a good mood, and I didn't want to ruin it. We sat together on the couch, his arm casually draped around my shoulders. As the movie played, I felt his fingers gently stroke my arm. The warmth of his touch should have comforted me, but instead, it felt like a weight pressing on my chest.

I tried to focus on the film, but my thoughts kept drifting back to earlier. To Pedri. I couldn't shake the image of him, the words he'd whispered to me, the promises he'd made. And now, here I was, sitting with Dante, the person I was supposed to love.

Halfway through the movie, Dante turned to me, smiling softly. "You seem quiet tonight. Everything okay?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired," I lied, trying to muster a more convincing smile.

He nodded and pulled me closer, resting his head against mine. "Well, let's finish this and then head to bed. You've had a long day."

The rest of the movie passed in a blur, and soon enough, Dante yawned and stretched, signaling it was time to get ready for bed. As he stood up and reached out his hand for mine, I hesitated for a moment before taking it. His grip was warm and familiar, but it felt different now—like a reminder of everything I was betraying.

This was my life now—keeping secrets, walking on bricks, and hoping the truth didn't explode in my face.

But for tonight, I could pretend. I could push it all down and play the part.