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Those words still ring true, as hard as it may be to say them out loud. Solana didn’t seem all that shocked by the confession, and with some reluctance, she agreed to bring him some more balm from her shop for his scars.
With that settled, I spend my time focusing on the more immediate future and the biggest hurdle I have yet to overcome. I know it’s not going to be an easy task, but I’ve been preparing all week, and this morning, I asked Ivy to make the request.
I’m waiting anxiously in my room when she finally comes to meet me, and I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she’s just as nervous as I am.
“He’s ready for you.”
I nod, rising from my chair and smoothing down my modest black dress. It’s a far cry from my usual style, but I figured I better dress the part before I face my brother. Every detail will matter, and I need to prove to him that I’m not making a reckless, spur-of-the-moment suggestion.
I join Ivy at the door, and she gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before we walk down the hall in silence. It’s strange being back in this house. It’s the home I grew up in, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore. It feels like Ivy belongs here, and I never did, and surprisingly, I’m okay with that.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Ivy asks as we pause outside Santi’s study.
“No.” I offer her a grateful smile. “This is my battle. I want him to see that I’m capable of fighting it on my own.”
“I understand.” She nods. “I’ll wait for you upstairs.”
With that, she leaves me, and I steel myself as I draw in a long breath and knock on the door.
“Come in,” Santi calls from the other side.
My fingers tremble slightly on the knob, but I don’t give in to the desire to hesitate before stepping inside. My brother is at his desk, waiting for me with an expression I’ve come to know well. It’s the same expression my father wore when he was disappointed. And in some ways, that’s always been difficult for me. Because I love my brother, but I am haunted by his similarities in appearance to the man who broke me down so brutally.
Santi would never physically hurt me. Not intentionally. But he unknowingly produces the same undercurrent of fear in me at times. For most of my life, I have tried to make him proud. I never wanted to let him down because I was afraid if I did, the consequences would be too severe. Yet, even as I face him presently, noting the lingering tide of anger in his features, I know one thing without a doubt. He loves me, and I love him. Regardless of everything that has happened, or what may come, that one thing is undeniable. So with that in mind, I hold my head high, and I begin.
“I know you probably expected me to come here and atone for my sins, brother. You’re disappointed in me, and for that, I am sorry. But I’m not sorry for what happened. I’m not sorry that I fell in love with a man, even if he doesn’t love me back. And I’m not sorry that I’ll have his children and raise them on my own.”
Santi shifts, his brow furrowing, but he doesn’t respond, so I continue.
“Over the years, you have taken on the burden of caring for me. I know you’ve done it from a place of love and a desire to protect me. I have always been grateful for that. But I have long resented the hypocrisy of the rules bestowed upon me by The Society. I am a daughter of the upper echelon, and I understand that I represent the De La Rosa name with every decision I make. Regardless of those facts, you cannot tell me that I have done anything the men in IVI don’t do themselves every day. I had a relationship before marriage, and perhaps it didn’t work out the way you would have liked, but I don’t regret the experience. Given the chance, I would do it all over again, even if it means being shamed in The Society’s eyes.”
Santi folds his hands across his desk, the vein in his neck pulsing. It’s hard to get a read on him right now, but I don’t know how long he’ll let me talk, so I keep going.
“It’s an unfair double standard, and we both know it. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I’m capable of making my own decisions. I understand you might see some of those decisions as mistakes, but this—” My hand settles over my belly. “I will never see as a mistake. I’m going to be a mother, and my children will only ever know love. I’ll do what I must to take care of them, regardless of what you say here today. But I am asking you, as my brother, my protector, and the head of our household, to give me that opportunity without a fight. I’m not going to live here, Santi. I won’t remain a prisoner any longer, allowing others to move me around like a chess piece. I have a life outside. Friends. A home. I’m capable of standing on my own, and if you release me, you will see it firsthand. I want you to be a part of my children’s life, just as I want to remain a part of Elena’s, but I am done playing by everyone else’s rules. If you don’t give me the opportunity to go freely, I will leave on my own at the first chance, and as painful as it will be, I won’t come see you again.”
A strained silence settles over the room as I finish, and Santi leaves the words hanging between us for so long, it unnerves me. His eyes move over my face, then he rises from his seat and walks to the window, giving me his back as he stares outside. I’m not sure what to expect from him because I’ve never given him an ultimatum like this. There’s a chance he might see my demand as a slap in the face. There’s a chance he might just try to lock me up in my room and never let me leave. History dictates it’s likely to be one of those two options, but he surprises me with an admission I didn’t see coming.
“Ivy told me about your scars.”
My shoulders tense, and I suck in a muted breath, hoping he can’t see my despair in the reflection of the window. I told myself I wasn’t going to fall apart, but I didn’t prepare for this. It has long been a De La Rosa tradition that we bear our shame in secret. For Santi to even mention this has knocked me off balance, and I’m not sure I can bring myself to speak.
“I wish you had told me.” He shakes his head. “I would have murdered him myself.”
His words stun me, not so much by the bluntness, but the anguish in his tone.
“And I will give you this, Mercedes. You are right.” He turns to look at me, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “I’ve failed you.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, Santi,” I croak. “I have never seen it that way.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But that’s because you want to see the best in me. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. I was supposed to protect you, and clearly, I’ve been failing for many years, far longer than I ever knew. You didn’t feel safe to come to me with this. You were just a little girl…” He swallows painfully. “And you endured it on your own. You’ve endured most things on your own. Yet I’ve never given you credit for it or tried to understand the reasons.”
“We were both just doing the best we could,” I answer in a whisper. “That’s all we knew how to do. It’s how we survived.”
He dips his head, shaking it as if he can’t accept that. Santi has always taken the responsibility of our family to heart, and I know it doesn’t matter what I say right now. He will feel guilt for not preventing or changing my fate regardless.
“I put you in this position by doing what I thought was best for you. I’ve made choices that altered your life irrevocably, and whether or not you regret it, I do. Because I can see now I’ve caused you further pain. And I can admit that perhaps I don’t know what’s best for you.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, jaw set with reluctant determination. “What I want for you is simple. I can’t change what’s happened, but I can change how we go forward. And going forward, I want you to be happy.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he shakes his head, forcing the rest of the words out even though it’s obviously difficult for him.
