A week since Aitana’s father screamed at her in front of everyone.
A week since she ran out of the clubhouse with tears streaming down her face.
A week since I watched her break and did nothing to stop it.
I tell myself I didn’t know what to say.
I tell myself it wasn’t my place.
I tell myself a lot of things to make myself feel better.
But the guilt is still there.
Heavy and suffocating.
I’m sitting in the clubhouse, nursing a beer, when Elena walks in.
Her arm is in a sling, her forehead still bandaged.
She’s pale and tired, but she’s smiling.
“Hey, Diego,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
“Mind if I sit with you?” I shrug.
“Sure.
Go ahead.” She sits down beside me, her hazel green eyes fixed on my face.
“You look troubled.
Is everything okay?” I snort.
“I’m fine.
Just…
thinking.” “About Aitana?” I look at her, surprised.
She’s too perceptive.
Too sharp.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“I feel bad about what happened.
She didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that.” Elena’s face softens.
“I know.
I tried to tell Rafael it wasn’t her fault.
I was the one who wanted to switch bikes.
She didn’t force me.” “Then why did she get all the blame?” Elena sighs, shaking her head.
“Rafael is just scared.
He’s been so worried about me.
He overreacted.
I feel terrible about it.” She’s so kind.
So selfless.
She’s the one who got hurt, and she’s worried about Aitana.
I feel my guilt deepen.
“You’re a good person, Elena,” I say.
“You didn’t deserve to get hurt.” She smiles, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
“Thank you, Diego.
That means a lot coming from you.” We talk for a while.
She asks about the club, about the races, about my life.
She listens to everything I say, her eyes never leaving my face.
Aitana never does that.
She’s always too busy, too distracted.
She never has time for us anymore.
But Elena has time.
Elena always has time.
It starts small.
A hello here.
A smile there.
A few words of encouragement when I’m feeling down.
Before I know it, we’re having real conversations.
She tells me about her childhood, about how hard it was, about how she always dreamed of having a family.
I tell her about my own struggles.
About the pressure to be strong, to be feared, to never show weakness.
She listens.
She understands.
She makes me feel like I matter.
I don’t know when it happened.
I don’t know when I started choosing her over Aitana.
But somehow, someway, Elena became my friend.
And I’m not sure if that makes me a traitor or just a fool.
— Aitana I haven’t spoken to my father in a week.
Not really.
Not the way we used to.
He walks past me in the hallway like I’m invisible.
He eats dinner at the table without looking at me.
He talks to Isabella and Elena like I don’t exist.
I feel like a ghost in my own home.
One afternoon, I can’t take it anymore.
I corner him in the living room, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Dad,” I say, my voice trembling.
“We need to talk.” He looks up from his newspaper, his cold eyes meeting mine.
“What is it, Aitana?” I take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry about what happened to Elena.
I know I made a mistake.
I know I should have been more careful.
It won’t happen again.
I promise.” He sets down the newspaper and looks at me.
His face is hard, unreadable.
“Aitana,” he says, his voice low and cold.
“Do you know what it means to be a princess?” I blink, confused.
“I…
I think so.” He stands up, towering over me.
“A princess never loses her guard.
A princess never makes mistakes.
A princess never causes problems for her people.
And a princess certainly never causes injury to the people she’s meant to protect.” I feel tears prick at my eyes.
“Dad, I know.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” “Sorry isn’t enough,” he says, his voice sharp.
“You failed.
You failed the rules I taught you.
You failed the morals I instilled in you.
And worst of all, you failed your family.” I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t speak.
“Dad, please—” I start.
“No,” he interrupts, holding up his hand.
“I’ve said enough.
I have nothing more to say to you.” He turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone in the living room.
I feel the tears fall, hot and fast and uncontrollable.
I try to hold them back.
I try to be strong.
But I can’t.
I am Aitana Fernandez.
I am the princess of this club.
But right now, I feel like nothing.
— I need to talk to someone.
I need to clear my head.
I need someone to remind me that I’m not crazy, that I’m not worthless.
Diego.
Diego will understand.
He’s always been my protector.
He’s always been there for me.
I walk to the clubhouse, my heart pounding.
I push open the door and scan the room.
I see him.
He’s sitting at a table with someone.
Elena.
She’s leaning close to him, her hand on his arm.
She’s laughing at something he said.
He’s smiling at her like she’s the most important person in the world.
I feel something cold settle in my chest.
Something painful and sharp.
I walk toward them, forcing a smile onto my face.
“Diego,” I say, my voice tight.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?
I really need someone right now.” He looks up at me, his eyes flickering with something I can’t read.
He glances at Elena, then back at me.
“Sorry, Aitana,” he says, his voice flat.
“I’m kind of busy right now.
Elena and I have some important things to discuss.” I feel the world tilt beneath my feet.
“Diego, please,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“I really need you.
I’ve been trying to hold it together, but I can’t.
I need someone to talk to.
Please.” He looks at Elena, who gives him a small, sympathetic smile.
He turns back to me, and I see his jaw tighten.
“I said I’m busy,” he repeats.
“Can’t this wait?” I stare at him.
The boy who swore to protect me.
The one who was always my shield.
My protector.
My brother.
He’s choosing her over me.
“Diego,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“Please.
I’m drowning.
I’m so alone.
I just need someone to be there for me.
Just for a few minutes.” His eyes soften for a moment.
For a second, I think he’s going to give in.
But then Elena speaks.
“Diego,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
“Maybe you should go with her.
I’ll be fine.
I can wait.” He looks at her, and I see something flicker in his eyes.
Guilt?
Relief?
I don’t know.
“No,” he says, turning back to me.
“We’ll talk later, Aitana.
This is important.” I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces.
I look at him.
I look at Elena.
I look at the way she’s watching me, her eyes wide and innocent.
“I understand,” I whisper, my voice hollow.
“I’ll leave you to it.” I turn and walk away.
I don’t run.
I don’t cry.
I just walk.
But inside, I’m screaming.
I make it to my room and lock the door behind me.
I collapse onto my bed and let the tears come.
Hot and fast and uncontrollable.
I trusted you, Diego, I think.
You were supposed to protect me.
You were supposed to be there for me.
And you chose her.
I think about Carmen.
About Sofia.
About Leo.
They’ve all been pulling away from me, one by one.
Elena is taking them all.
And I’m powerless to stop her.
When did it start?
I ask myself, my mind racing.
When did the first crack open?
I didn’t see it coming.
I was too blind.
Too naive.
And now I’m paying the price.
I feel like I’m drowning.
Like I’m being pulled under by a current I can’t fight.
I’m so alone.
And I don’t know if anyone will ever save me.