9:00 PM
Sienna sat curled up on her couch, absently twirling the bronze medal between her fingers. The dim glow from the single lamp in the corner cast long shadows across the room, wrapping everything in a soft, quiet stillness.
Third place.
She should have been proud. She should have been happy. But all she could feel was exhaustion pressing down on her bones, pulling at her muscles like weights.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen. A notification from her bank.
The $1,000 prize money had been wired to her account.
She let out a breath and leaned back against the couch, rubbing her temple. The money was a relief—a blessing, really. But what truly gnawed at her was the crumpled check still sitting in her purse.
$2,000.
Rocco Montenegro.
The image of him stood vivid in her mind—his sharp, aristocratic face, the cruel edge to his mouth, the way he had barely looked at her before tossing money at her like she was some nobody.
A flicker of anger burned beneath her skin.
Who did he think he was?
She should have ripped that check in half, thrown it back at him. She should have told him exactly where he could shove his arrogance.
But she hadn't.
Because deep down, she knew she needed the money.
And that infuriated her even more.
A sudden knock at the door broke through her thoughts.
Sienna frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone.
She pushed herself up, padding across the small living room. As she reached the door, she hesitated, pressing her ear against the wood.
Another knock.
Cautiously, she peeked through the peephole.
Her stomach dropped.
Hector.
He stood there with a lazy smile, a single red rose in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other. The picture of a perfect boyfriend—if she didn't know better.
Sienna rolled her eyes and pulled open the door.
"My love," Hector cooed, stepping forward as if to embrace her.
She moved aside without a word, letting him in.
His chuckle was smooth, practiced. "Still mad at me?"
She turned away, crossing her arms as he shut the door behind him.
"Sienna," he sighed, setting the gifts down on the table. "I know you wanted me there today, and I'm really sorry, baby. Work was just… insane."
Right. The same excuse, different day.
She didn't respond.
He stepped closer, his hands finding her arms, rubbing them gently. "I hate seeing you upset, mi amor."
There had been a time when those words would have soothed her. A time when his touch had felt warm, safe.
They had been sitting on the beach, waves lapping gently at the shore, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold. Sienna had buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed—school, money, loneliness—it had all felt like too much.
And Hector had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
"You're gonna make it, baby," he had whispered, his lips brushing her forehead. "I believe in you. Always."
She had clung to those words like a lifeline, letting them anchor her through the hardest days.
Back then, he had been her safe place.
Back then, she had believed he really meant it.
Now, standing in her dimly lit apartment, she wondered when everything had changed.
Hector sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I also came because…I need your help."
Sienna's stomach clenched.
"With what?" she asked, her voice careful.
"There's this amazing business opportunity I want to invest in," he said, stepping back, slipping into salesman mode. "It's a sure thing, Sienna. I just need a little boost to get started."
She swallowed. "How much?"
"Only $2,000."
Her chest tightened. "Hector, I just won that money."
"Exactly!" He laughed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's perfect timing. You don't even need it right now, but I do."
Sienna shook her head. "I have bills to pay."
He let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. "Why are you being so selfish?"
The word sliced through her like a blade.
"I'm doing this for us," he continued, voice rising. "I'm trying to build something! Marry you, give us a real future! But I need your support, Sienna."
Her heart twisted. He always did this—made her feel guilty for not putting him first.
"You've had four different business ideas," she whispered. "None of them worked."
"This time is different."
She chewed on her bottom lip, doubt pressing in from all sides.
Then, Hector's voice dropped, his gaze turning cold.
"You know what?" he muttered. "I knew you never really loved me."
Her breath caught.
"You just want to see me struggle," he continued, shaking his head. "All your talk about 'supporting each other'—bullshit."
"Hector," she said softly. "That's not fair."
"No, you know what's not fair?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Me choosing you when I could have been with someone better."
The words hit like a physical blow.
She stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Hector sighed, rubbing his temples. "I mean, let's be honest, Sienna. Look at you. You're chubby. You're not exactly—" He trailed off, shrugging like he hadn't just shattered her. "Other men wouldn't even look at you, but I stayed. I chose you. The least you could do is help me when I need it."
Something in her cracked.
She pressed her arms tightly around herself, trying to hold in the pain, the rage, the overwhelming sense of betrayal.
"Hector," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You really had to go there?"
Realization flickered across his face—he knew he had gone too far.
But instead of apologizing, he sighed. "Come on, baby. You know I didn't mean it like that."
She inhaled sharply, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "How much again?"
His smile returned instantly. "Just $2,000."
Everything inside her screamed no.
But she couldn't fight anymore. She was too tired.
"Fine," she murmured. "But I want it back."
"Of course, baby," he said smoothly, leaning in to kiss her.
His hands roamed over her waist, but she stiffened.
Hector pulled back, frowning. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "I just—"
He groaned. "Seriously, Sienna? We've been together for four years. You still want to wait until marriage?"
"You knew this about me," she whispered.
"Yeah, but I thought you'd grow out of it."
She looked at him then, really looked at him.
And she realized something.
The man she had fallen in love with—the man who had once held her on the beach, whispering promises—was gone.
Hector scoffed. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."
He walked past her into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
Sienna stood in the silence, her arms wrapped around herself, holding in everything she wanted to scream.
How had she ended up here?
How had she let herself become this?
And why—why—was she still afraid to leave?