Until my Last Breath

46

"HE DID WHAT??"

Kika's voice practically shakes the walls of my Barcelona home, her fork clattering onto her plate. Across from her, Alex is frozen mid-bite, wide-eyed in disbelief.

I blink, realizing what just happened.

Shit.

I didn't mean to say it.

I didn't mean to say anything at all.

"Rita," Alex finally speaks, setting her utensils down carefully. "Did you just say he kissed you?"

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. The only sound is the occasional clink of silverware and the distant hum of the city outside.

I swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the way both their eyes are drilling into me. Kika, with her unfiltered curiosity, leans forward like she's expecting me to deliver the most dramatic plot twist in a movie. Alex, ever the calmer one, just watches-studying me the way Charles does when he knows something's wrong.

I push my food around my plate, my stomach twisting at the memory.

The way his lips felt against mine. The way time stopped. The way I kissed him back before my mind caught up with my body and reality crashed down.

I nod slowly.

"He kissed me," I confirm, my voice quieter this time.

Kika's jaw drops further, if possible. "And you didn't tell us sooner because...?"

"Because I wasn't planning on telling anyone."

Alex exhales, her eyes flickering with something between concern and understanding. "Rita..."

"I'm fine," I cut in quickly, forcing a small smile. "It's not a big deal."

The problem is-I don't even know if I believe that myself.

Kika crosses her arms. "Not a big deal? You've barely spoken all day. You've just been sitting there, pushing your salad around like it personally offended you."

"I always push my salad around," I counter weakly.

"Rita." Alex's voice is softer now, coaxing. She tilts her head, eyes searching mine. "Be honest with us. What's going on?"

I exhale slowly, leaning back against the chair. The words are there, at the tip of my tongue, but I don't even know where to begin.

I feel fine. I should feel fine.

And yet-

I wake up every morning with my chest tight, my mind spinning in a million different directions. I move through the day like a spectator in my own life, distracted, unsteady. Training isn't there to anchor me. The season isn't there to drown out the noise.

And the noise is loud.

My fingers tighten around my fork. "I don't know," I admit finally, my voice quieter now. "I just... I feel weird."

Kika raises an eyebrow. "Weird how?"

"Like I'm here, but not here." I gesture vaguely, struggling to put it into words. "Like I'm on autopilot. Like my body is doing things-eating, sleeping, talking-but my mind is stuck somewhere else."

Alex and Kika share a glance.

I drop my fork onto the plate, my stomach turning. "I didn't mean to be weird today. I just-" I shake my head, exhaling sharply. "I can't stop thinking about it. About him. About what happened. And I hate it because I shouldn't be."