Page 60 of Worth the Fall

"You don’t have to be perfect," I say, my voice rising in desperation. "I’m not asking you to be anything but yourself."

"You don’t get it," she says, her voice sharp with frustration and pain. "I feel like I’m drowning, Miguel. Every time I think I have it figured out, something else pulls me under. I can’t keep up with you, with Felicity, with work—any of it. And I hate that I feel this way, but I do."

Her words pierce through me, and for a moment, I can’t speak. I can’t think. All I can do is stand there, watching the person I thought was becoming my forever slip further and further away.

"I love you," I whisper finally, the words tumbling out in a last-ditch effort to hold on to what we’ve built. "I love you, Mia. And I know this is hard, but we can figure it out. Together."

She squeezes her eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love you, too," she says, her voice breaking. "But it’s not enough. Not right now."

My chest constricts, the air in the room feeling thin and suffocating. "Mia, please?—"

"I’m sorry," she whispers, stepping back into the apartment. "I can’t do this."

The door closes softly, but the sound reverberates through me like a gunshot. I stand there, staring at the wood grain, my hand half-raised as if I could somehow will it to open again.

But it doesn’t.

And for the second time in less than two years, I feel completely and utterly lost.

The drive home feels like a blur. The city lights pass by in streaks, but I barely notice them. My chest is heavy, my mind replaying every second of what just happened with Mia.

Her words echo over and over, each one cutting deeper than the last.I can’t do it. I’m not ready. I love you, but it’s not enough.

When I step into my apartment, the quiet feels oppressive. Felicity isn’t here tonight—she’s at her mom’s, likely curled up in bed with one of her stuffed animals. I wish she were here. Her laughter, her energy, even her tiny voice calling for me from her room would make this place feel less empty.

I kick off my shoes and head toward Felicity’s room. It’s not much—a small twin bed with pink sheets and a collection of her favorite plushies stacked neatly at the foot. But it’s hers, and being here makes me feel closer to her.

I sit down on her bed, leaning back against the wall. Her familiar scent—like baby shampoo and crayons—lingers in the air. It’s comforting in a way I didn’t expect.

Grabbing my phone, I pull up her contact and hit the button for FaceTime on her iPad. I know it’s late, and she’s probably asleep, but I just… I need to see her.

After a few rings, the screen lights up, and Felicity’s sleepy face appears. Her curls are flattened on one side, her unicorn pajama top wrinkled.

"Daddy?" she mumbles, her voice soft and groggy.

"Hey, princess," I say, forcing a smile. "I’m sorry for waking you up. I just… I wanted to see your face."

Her eyes blink slowly as she props herself up on her elbows. "Why, Daddy?"

"Because you always make me smile," I say honestly, my throat tightening.

She yawns, her little hand rubbing her eyes. "You look sad. Are you okay, Daddy?"

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Yeah, baby. I’m okay. I just miss you, that’s all."

Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head. "Are you sure?"

I nod, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. "I’m sure. I just needed to see you."

Her face softens into a sleepy smile, and she snuggles back into her pillow, her unicorn plushie clutched tightly in her arms. "Miss Mia would make you smile, too."

My chest tightens painfully at the mention of her.

"She told me she loves you, Daddy," Felicity says, her voice drifting into the haze of sleep again. "Tell her good night from me and Mr. Unicorn."

"I will," I whisper, my voice cracking.

"'Kay," she mumbles, her eyes closing. "Good night, Daddy. Love you."

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