KIMBERLY

to an overdramatic lunatic who was seconds away from being thwarted with a spatula.

"Jace, it's not that bad," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

The husband-in-question was coughing his lungs up, looking at me in disbelief through tear-lined eyes.

He really was overdramatic.

He was still coughing when he attempted to speak. "Woman, how much salt did you put in that? I swear I can feel the water leaving my cells trying to restore my body to equilibrium. God, this is one way to kill me."

My face flushed as I looked down, embarrassed by the abomination I just created.

Jace has been trying to teach me how to cook for the past couple of days, letting me watch him as he cooked. Now, he handed the reins over to me, giving me a simple recipe to follow. Apparently, given his condition, it wasn't simple.

He found a nasi goreng recipe for me, knowing that I wanted to feel more connected to my Indonesian side. Plus, it would be nice to pull up to my parent's house one day and feed Mom something from her heritage that wouldn't kill her.

"Not that much," I mumbled. Truthfully, looking back, it probably was a little too much. In my defense, when I tasted it, the dish was too bland. It needed something spicy or more salt. Since salt was nearby, I went for it first.

I don't know how much fell in, but I didn't think it would be enough to murder my husband.

Wasn't cooking supposed to have more leeway?

Sighing, Jace downed another glass. "It's okay, baby. Let's remake it together."

I nodded reluctantly, still frowning. There's a reason I wasn't allowed in anyone's kitchen. Jace chuckled deeply, using his index finger to tip my chin up, pecking my lips. "It's okay, Kimberly. I'm just... going to be watching over more carefully from now on."

True to his word, Jace took over the cooking, explaining the steps to me along the way. He looked particularly concerned when I asked how to tell if the chicken was cooked or raw, but he quickly shook it off and answered.

Less than half an hour later—way quicker than the two hours it took me to make the failed dish—Jace placed a plate in front of me, garnishing it professionally.

"You're so stupidly perfect," I said, glaring at him as I took another bite. "It's so stupidly annoying."

"Very eloquent," Jace replied. "But as long as you're not crying, I'm fine."

I groaned. "Don't remind me about that."

"Too bad," he mocked. "I never understood why you cried the first few times I cooked for you. I legitimately thought I broke you."

"Honey," I huffed. "It would take another dinosaur-extinction-level meteor for me to break. Lord knows I've been through it. Moving on, I... just..."

'We're going to be here all night."

I snapped, "Shut up. It's difficult to explain. It's just that... Well, home-cooked meals were rare growing up. It was always either the chefs or restaurants, and I'm not trying to complain. They're amazing at cooking, but there's just something more special about eating food made by someone who loves you and genuinely cares that you're full."

Jace's eyes widened and I realized that I nonchalantly used a certain four-letter word in relation to the two of us.

Shit.

Sensing my panic, Jace changed the subject. "Do you want dessert? Who am I kidding? Of course you do."

Even though he answered for me, I still nodded. I got up to clean the plates—the only thing I could do in the kitchen—recovering from the slip-up from earlier.

Jace was standing in front of the kitchen island, whisking the brownie batter, impervious to how I was falling apart inside.

Would he question me about it?

Would he ask if I felt that way about him?

Would he... reject me?

We said no feelings. No strings attached. Nothing even remotely resembling a relationship.

Us being us, the lines muddled after time, resembling something that everyone would say was the equivalent of a relationship. For fuck's sake, we were already married and practically acted like a married couple with our constant bickering and life-altering sex.

That, and Jace has become a really good friend of mine.

Effie was right about me not feeling the need to fix him. Sure, there was my meddling in his and Alex's relationship, but that was more for Alex's sake than Jace's. Alex knew what it was like to have kids, while Jace didn't know what it was like to have a father.

It was harder to miss what you didn't have, something that Jace made clear a million times when I asked about their relationship.

Regardless, Jace made it easier for me to feel... normal around him. He didn't know shit about my life, didn't have preconceived notions, didn't have unwarranted judgment...

But was he still expecting us to get a divorce after the two years were up?

Would I be okay with it?

The sound of the oven door shutting brought me out of my thoughts, reminding me that I've been drying the same plate for the last five minutes.

"Dance with me," Jace announced, holding his hand out.

"Why?" I stared at his outstretched hand like it was riddled with diseases.

Jace rolled his eyes, pulling me in by my shirt. "Just do it. You're stressed and I don't want you running after a bottle, so dancing's the next best thing."

"Meaning?"

"You're happier when you're dancing," he replied as cool as a cucumber, grabbing his phone to play a song on the speakers riddled throughout the house. "Well, you were the last two times we danced together."

The club in São Paulo and the night of our wedding...

Two events before everything went to shit.

The odds weren't in our favor.

Still, I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling when the familiar tune hit my ears.

Chiquitita by ABBA filled the overheard speakers, the graceful melody floating down. "You remembered?"

"Of course," he beamed. "You said it was the only song that calmed you down as a kid. I figured it would come in handy one day."

I pulled at his hair, fighting down a smile. "Keep this back-handed shit up, I'll knock you out."

He laughed, pressing a gentle kiss on my nose. "So violent."

Quietly, the two of us swayed to the music, grinning at each other with something akin to adoration in our eyes. The song went on and on, replaying over and over again, but we didn't pull apart.

Even when the oven timer shut off, letting us know the brownies were down, we still danced there, neither one of us wanting to make the first step to move.

We'd been so wrapped up in each other's comfort, aura, familiarity... It was impossible to even want to pull away.

The world seemed to just disappear, leaving us behind to not let the fears and doubts of anything stop us from being together.

Chiquitita, you and I know...

How the heartaches come and they go...

And the scars they're leaving...

You'll be dancing once again...

And the pain will end...

If only the younger me knew how applicable these lyrics would be to her now.

I knew myself. I knew I was at the edge of finally letting go of the pain and heartbreak. I just needed... I didn't know what more I needed.

Thinking about it was just too much, but being here with Jace—dancing with him—made everything feel so much better.

This man made it abundantly clear that he didn't dance, but he would do it to make me happy and I had a feeling he always would.

Every single time.

"God, I'm so in love with you," Jace hummed distractedly, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

We both froze at his sudden admission.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

"Jace," I warned softly, pulling back. "I..."

I didn't know how to continue or what to continue with. I was utterly speechless. If anything, I was mad at myself for pulling away from him, but I was truly at a loss for emotions and words.

Those little words were deceptively small considering how they had the ability to completely flood your world with insecurity and instability.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Jace replied, reaching out to me. "Not for saying the words because I meant everyone single one of them, but for springing it on you now, Venus. Now that it's out, you have to know that it's true. For so long, I hated the concept of love because of how heartbroken Mom always was. But I understand now. Even if you don't feel the same way, loving you is fucking worth it. Every single moment I've had with you means more than any amount of pain you could ever cause me."

"I—" The words were jumbled in my head, nothing sensible even queued up.

The urge to tell him that it wasn't about me not feeling the same way but the inability to express how much I felt and how consuming it was.

Jace's eyes hardened when he realized I was making no move to get closer to him, the way I was mere moments ago. "Please don't do that, Kimberly."

"What?"

"Don't do that thing where you pull back," he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, scuffling at his stubble. "Be mad at me all you want, but for fuck's sake, don't do this."

"What?" I repeated, not because I was confused, but because I was so conflicted internally.

It felt like the world's shittiest virus decided to take host of my body, warming it up to uncontrollable numbers and making me delirious.

"Come on, Kimberly," Jace snapped. "Brazil... the wedding... the first time we had sex... Hell, even after you found that box at your old apartment. You always pull away, and I've been trying to be patient, but it gets to be so fucking impossible sometimes."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, shaking my head. "I'm sorry... I can't."

"Don't apologize, baby," he pleaded. "Please don't shut me out. Please... just talk to me."

I started moving backwards, in desperate need of fresh air. "I'm sorry. I can't do this right now, Jace. Please give me some time. Please." The last word was barely audible, but the pained and defeated look on his face told me he got the message.

I didn't look back as I headed for the door, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head.

♕♕♕

Vivian wasn't one to dress up.

It's comical, seeing as we're best friends despite being complete opposites of each other.

So, when I stepped into our old apartment, seeing her getting dolled up, I knew I was interrupting a date with Van, someone she didn't tell me she was seeing.

It stung like a bitch, having to hear it from Jace, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

A few days have passed since, but nothing.

Not a single thing.

"You look beautiful," I said, a wistful smile on my face as I saw her fidgeting with the deep blue dress she was wearing.

"You think?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a not-Vivian fashion. The girl I knew better than myself rarely got nervous, so seeing her like this proved how special Van was to her.

Her I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude was replaced by an endearing I-give-every-fuck one.

I couldn't burden her with my mess right now.

Vivian looked so joyful—a little shy, in all honesty—and I couldn't ruin it the way I always have.

"Absolutely, bitch," I teased. "Whoever she is... she's lucky. There's no one quite like you, Vivi."

"I love you," Vivi replied, smiling as she pulled me into a hug.

Holding tears back, I wrapped my arms around her tighter. "I love you too."

"Is everything okay?" Her words made it harder to keep the flood at bay, but I put all my energy into it.

No matter how hard I tried to hide it, she always knew. After spending our entire lives as best friends, it was impossible for us to not know. But, with that, came the need to put everything weighing us down aside to be there for the other. Lord knows how many times Vivi put me first... even when I didn't deserve it.

"Yeah," I lied. "I'm gonna head to Ash's for a bit, so I decided to stop by."

Considering that Ash's apartment was in a completely different direction, she was totally able to see through me. But I was hoping she'd just deem this as one of my Kim-tendencies and let it go.

"Are you sure?" She was still concerned, frowning this time. "I can reschedule my date, K. Sa—She'll understand."

Another sting.

I pushed the corners of her lips into a smile. "If you cancel your date, I will microwave your fingers... until you like it."

Vivi laughed at my threat, knowing how Kim-esque it was.

"You're psycho," she replied, her smile finally back.

"That's why we work so well," I teased. "I'm going to head out now... You better enjoy your date."

With a kiss to the side of her head, I left the penthouse.

Since Vivi was busy, Ash was the next best person I could talk to, so what I told her wasn't completely a lie. Plus, knowing Ash, Camelia would probably be at his apartment, her wisdom being necessary to shed some light on my situation.

Hell, maybe I'll just talk to her.

Maybe I needed someone with a blank slate. Someone who wasn't attached to the situation, but who still cares.

I spent the entire subway ride mulling over my decision.

Should I be burdening Lia with this too?

How many more lives could I fuck up with my fuck-uppery?

Should I even be talking about it?

The attractiveness of leaving the country didn't escape my mind, but all I could think about were Jace's words.

I always run away.

The mental turmoil must've really gotten to me because—for the first time—I knocked on Ash's door. My cousin was shocked that I didn't waltz in the way I usually do, but when he noticed how I was on the verge of a breakdown, he ushered me in.

"What happened?" Ash asked when I dropped onto his sofa and laid on it like it was a therapist's couch.

"Everything, where's your better half?"

Ash smiled at my sentiment for his girlfriend before she walked into the living room. "I'm right here. Is everything okay?"

"Honestly," I started. "No. I don't think I'm okay. I need a therapist."

I heard the shuffling of reluctant footsteps following Lia's silence, letting me know she silently told Ash to leave.

"The uncertified Dr. Matsuda is at your service. Tell her what's wrong."

God, this girl was something else.

I opened my mouth, spilling years of emotional baggage on her doorstep.

♕♕♕

It's been almost two hours since I was home.

Jace must've been worried out of his mind. I couldn't call him since my phone died an hour ago, but I didn't even know what to say even if I could call him.

I decided I was going to come clean about everything I needed to say when I got back home tonight. Doing this shit over the phone wouldn't cut it.

But, after the emotional and mental clarity Camelia provided me, I knew I needed to be here first.

Marcel Vivas.

The name on the tombstone that I haven't seen in years stared back at me as if he was actually here with me.

The last time I came here, I was a drunken mess, yelling at him—cursing him out—for leaving me. And, just like he used to when we were younger, he just silently listened, letting me get all my emotions out.

But I needed to move on.

I needed to finally let go.

"Marcy," I called out, talking to him as if he could listen. "I have a confession to make. You were right. Some promises are meant to break, and I finally broke my promise."

***

the emotional rollercoaster that is this chapter...

while.

but, everything is finally being revealed and all that jazz.

so, i hope y'all enjoy (even though these need to be heavily edited).

love, zia.