Dominick stepped away from Lizet and covered his face. Instead of feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, it was as though a massive block of concrete had been added to his back.
"You really are a son of a bitch," the black-haired woman exclaimed, speaking for the first time since he had begun telling her what was eating him alive. "But I'm not the one to judge you."
He uncovered his face and looked at her.
Lizet's expression was serene. She reached out her hand and brushed away the hair that had fallen on his forehead.
"What do you plan to do?" she wanted to know.
"About…?"
"The girl. What will you do now? Keep drinking until you die? Or will you answer other investigators?"
"Maybe both," he whispered.
"If you find her, if you manage to track her down, what then? Do you want her to see you like this?" the woman raised her brows. "You'd only be confirming what she already thinks of you. You're an alcoholic, and don't you dare deny it." She pointed a finger at him, narrowing her eyes when she noticed he was about to retort.
"I suppose I'm not the one to give you advice, but you need to change your ways if you want that woman to forgive you." Lizet stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"Get up. We're going to the bathroom." She extended her hand.
"Why do you live here? This place looks like a man's apartment, not a woman's," Dom commented, trying not to lose his balance as he stood.
"I like the place. Not every woman wants to live surrounded by roses, sweets, and pastel colors," she laughed, helping him toward the bathroom. "Take off your clothes."
"What for?" Dominick smirked.
Lizet rolled her eyes.
"So you can shower. You're not sleeping in my bed like this. You reek of alcohol, and my sheets smell way too good. Take off your clothes, I don't like repeating myself." She huffed, with a gesture anything but feminine. "And don't worry, I've seen plenty of dicks before. One more won't make a difference."
"As you wish." Dominick nearly toppled over as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt.
"Let me do it," she said. He didn't reply, and she took his silence as a yes. She unbuttoned his shirt, sat him down on the toilet lid, and removed his shoes and pants. Then she turned on the tap to fill the bathtub.
"Stay in there. Let the cold water sober you up a little," she snapped. "I'll make you some hot soup. Don't get out until I come back, you might fall and crack your skull…"
Lizet left the bathroom.
Dominick stared at his feet. The water didn't quite cover him, but the tub was spacious, as if it had been built for two.
He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the rim of the tub, feeling a trace of peace as his muscles loosened in the water.
Several minutes later, Lizet returned.
"Do you feel better?"
"Depends what you mean…" he murmured, opening his eyes.
The girl stepped closer to help him out, getting herself wet in the process. Dom pulled one foot out of the tub, then the other, clinging to her so he wouldn't slip.
Lizet looked into his eyes, narrowing hers when she felt his half-erect member brush against her.
"Sorry," he pulled back, slipping an arm around her shoulders as she slid hers around his waist. "The water's cold…" he let out a chuckle.
"It doesn't matter. Come on, before the soup gets cold. Besides, I need to change again," she sighed. They began walking out of the bathroom, and Lizet grabbed a towel.
"Here, dry off with this. I'll find you something to wear," she said.
"You have men's clothes here?" Dom frowned. She pulled out a pair of pajama pants.
"The owner's not going to come claim them, don't worry." She handed them over. "That's the only thing that might fit you."
Lizet grabbed a robe and stepped behind a screen to change.
In silence, they returned to the sofa. Dominick looked for the bottle, but it was gone.
"I put it away," she exclaimed when she saw his expression. "You're not drinking in my presence. Eat the soup."
She set it down on the small glass table.
She went for a glass of wine, grabbed her phone, and Dom watched her. She gave a look of annoyance and set the device aside. Her black hair was tied up in a makeshift bun, her skin slightly tanned as if she had spent some time under the sun, her eyes a mix of green and brown.
In silence, he finished the soup. The black-haired woman took the bowl and set it in the sink.
"Thanks," Dominick muttered. He couldn't remember the last time he had thanked a woman…
Since what had happened with Jazmín, he had lumped them all into the same category—the worst kind of people—and he still couldn't help but think that way. He had fallen in love only once in his life, and he had paid dearly for it—with years of suffering, hatred, and bitterness—for giving his heart to her.
"Are you okay?" Lizet stood and sat down beside him. "You seem… lost. You don't say thank you very often, do you?" She smiled, then frowned, her expression turning serious as she studied Dominick's state. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
"No… I'm just remembering."
"Must be something bad to put that look on your face," she remarked.
"The happiest part of my life, which later turned into the worst. Have you ever been in love, Lizet?" he asked.
"Once. And it was enough to never want to do it again," she smiled, sighing.
"Exactly." He slumped against the couch. "Once was enough to turn me into what I am today. After Jazmín, I became nothing…"
"You need to get over her, if you want to be happy," she assured him.
"I can't. I hate her so much. I feel so much resentment and anger that sometimes I think I can't breathe. It burns me, eats me alive. I can't find a way… how do you forgive the betrayal of your own brother and the woman you love?" he growled through his teeth.
"I understand that you feel—"
"You don't understand anything," he snarled, pulling away.
Lizet grabbed his arm.
"If your foot got gangrene, what would you do, Dominick?" she asked, catching his attention with the sudden shift in subject.
"What?" Dom frowned.
"Answer." She pressed.
"This is ridiculous," he scoffed.
"Your foot gets gangrene. Do you cut it off, or do you die with it?" she gave him the choice.
"It's obvious, if you want to live…" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing her point. "You cut it off," he whispered.
"Exactly." She held his chin, making him look into her eyes. "You need to cut that part of your life away. Move on. Ask yourself if it's really worth letting yourself fall, staying trapped in the abyss you've thrown yourself into. Hate is only going to destroy you. And that girl, the one you hurt… if you want her forgiveness, you have to become better than you are today."
"You need to forgive," she advised. He pulled away. Lizet stood up and faced him. "You want her forgiveness for the horrible thing you did, but you can't forgive your brother and that woman for something that happened years ago." She shook her head. "A little hypocritical of you, don't you think?"
"That has nothing to do with it," he excused himself, glaring at her.
"Don't look at me like that, you know damn well I'm right. But if you want to keep destroying yourself, drowning in alcohol, holding on to all that hatred… that's your problem."
"That's right," he confirmed. "Doesn't matter what happens to me, no one cares."
"Really? You don't have family? Friends? From what I see, you only think about yourself. Those two men at the hospital were worried sick while you were nearly dying—but what does that matter, right? Poor little boy, nobody loves him. That's pathetic!" She let out a deep sigh, realizing she shouldn't have snapped like that. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it that way," she apologized, covering her face. "It just bothers me, people like you, who give up after the first blow. Don't fall into self-pity, Dominick. Think about it before it's too late."
She turned away.
"Lizet," he called, standing as well.
She turned back.
"Thank you for everything, but words alone can't erase years of pain, hate, all the suffering I went through…" He clenched his jaw. "You can't erase it overnight."
"I'm not saying forget it. The past is the best teacher of the future—it keeps us from making the same mistakes again."
"I wish I could…"
"Do you love her?" she interrupted, changing the subject, knowing this one was a lost cause.
"What? Could you be clearer? You ask half-questions," he complained.
"You say you regret it, you want to find that girl and get her forgiveness, but… for what? You're no gentleman, and it's clear you're a bastard—no offense." She stared at him intently. "So I don't understand your motivation. Do you love her? Are you in love with her?"
"I…"
"Don't answer me," she smiled. "Answer yourself. Think about my words tonight, and ask yourself if there's another reason you want to find her. Think if the life you're living is really the best one. Understand that the way you're going, you won't get anywhere. Let's go to sleep."
They both went into the bedroom and took a side of the bed. Lizet turned her back to him; she was exhausted, the day had been draining. It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep…
{...}
Lizet saw him off early because she had to go to work. Dominick returned to the hotel and locked himself in his room. He hired more investigators…
Months slipped by like drops of water, and everything remained the same. The investigators gave him nothing concrete, only false expectations every time they claimed they had found her.
He kept sinking into his black hole, drowning himself in alcohol, picking fights over anything. His friends tried to cheer him up, but nothing worked. His communication with Maximiliano grew thinner every day, and the brown-haired man had given up—he had his own problems, ones that kept him far too busy.
Marcus had returned three months earlier, without news and sadder than before, but determined to be a better man for the woman he loved. Dominick's stability was hanging by a thread. His visits to the hospital grew more frequent, and though Lizet had been by his side, she was growing tired of advising him.
By the time the first year had passed, no one bothered to make him see he was falling apart—they had given up. It was useless to try helping someone who refused to be helped.
The following months were the same, a routine that worsened each time a new negative report came in from the investigators.
He had spent thousands of dollars on private investigators who simply didn't know how to help him. It was as if the earth itself had swallowed Jade. His chauffeur had borne the consequences of trying to intervene—though in truth, he only wanted to help—and the poor man was fired, later hired by Maximiliano, who wouldn't tolerate such injustice.
When, months later, two years had gone by since the blonde's disappearance, Lizet decided to distance herself from Dominick. Staying with him was no longer pleasant nor healthy—though it never truly had been. His behavior had driven everyone away… Marcus was the only one still trying to reach him and help, because even if he wasn't in that same pitiful state, he knew what it felt like.
꧁ ꧂
Eleven months later
February first, 2019
Dominick opened his eyes slowly. He couldn't feel his limbs and could barely keep them open.
The last time he'd seen his friend, Marcus had told him that Ketlan—risking an argument with his now-wife—had confessed Genesis's whereabouts. That had been a month ago…
He tried to get up from the floor, but barely lasted five seconds on his feet before collapsing again. His saliva felt unbearably thick.
He forced himself up again, only to crash once more to the ground, this time shattering some bottles scattered across the floor.
"Shiiit!" he howled as glass pierced deep into his thigh.
He tried to focus his sight—he couldn't tell if it was day or night; everything was dark. Blood began to soak through his filthy pants. He was thinner now, malnourished; alcohol and near starvation had ravaged him. In less time than it should have taken, he passed out…
Marcus walked into the hotel with the widest smile a man could wear. There was no one happier than him at that moment. The woman he loved had given him another chance, and as if that weren't enough reason for joy, she had blessed him with wonderful news… He made his way to his friend's room, carrying news of his own.
He opened the door and rushed to his friend's aid when he saw him sprawled on the floor, a considerable pool of blood spreading from his leg…