Diego Carter was a man most people admired from a distance. He had the kind of presence that made people turn when he entered a room. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with quiet authority. His eyes, though — they told a different story. Blue and intense. He smiled when he had to, for photos or boardroom meetings, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. His suits were always perfectly fitted, his watches expensive but never flashy. His hair was cropped low, not a strand out of place. Everything about him screamed control, discipline, order. But underneath everything was a man still hurting — a man who worked so hard to look like he had it all together, because deep down, he didn't. His mother married Dr. Richards after some years. She moved away in order to let him start his life afresh.
He was handsome, no doubt. But there was something in the way he carried himself — a silence — that made people wonder what he was hiding behind those sharp lines and tailored clothes.
At thirty-two, he owned a company, drove a black luxury car, and wore tailored suits like they were part of his skin. He had built his company from the ground up, brick by brick, barely sleeping, always chasing the next goal. To the people around him, he was successful. Focused. Driven.But behind the sharp suits and tight schedules was a man still haunted by the past.He never spoke about the accident. Never mentioned Sam's name. But the guilt lived in him like a shadow that followed him everywhere. Diego didn't laugh much anymore. He rarely let anyone close. Because deep down, no matter how far he had come, he still felt like the one who killed his friends.
Diego sat alone in his office. It was past midnight, but he didn't notice. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up, and his eyes fixed on the glowing laptop screen. Work was his escape — the only thing that kept him sane. His assistant had left hours ago. The building was silent. He reached for his coffee then something on the desk caught his eye — a stack of folders, nothing unusual, except one. Tucked inside was a photograph. He didn't remember putting it there. He pulled it out slowly.
It was an old picture. Two boys, maybe fifteen, smiling with popcorn bowls in their laps, a game controller in one hand. His living room. His mom behind them, laughing. Diego suddenly felt weak. It was him and Sam. The laughter, the smell of popcorn, the sound of the video game buzzing in the background — it all rushed back. He closed his eyes, but it didn't help. The memory was too strong.
"I should've died too," he whispered, the same words he had said years ago in a hospital bed. He held the photo tightly. All this success. All the wealth. All the fame. Everything. None of it had erased the guilt that still weighed him down.
*****
His secretary informed him that one of their business partners had arrived. He braced himself up for the task ahead
"l can't believe you're here," he said, finally breaking the silence. "After all these years."
Diane looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Yeah… well, I never thought I'd be sitting across from you either."
Diego nodded, unsure of where this was going. He thought maybe this was a chance to reconnect. To fix something. But then she leaned back in her seat, folded her arms, and said quietly:
"You know… for a long time, I wondered how you forgot so fast. "
He looked up, frozen.
She continued, her voice steady. "Not because I thought you meant for it to happen. But because you lived like nothing ever happened. You passed me each day at school and never once said a word to me. Was it because you walked away, and he didn't? "
He swallowed hard. "Diane…"
"You insisted on that ride and after everything, you didn't even bother to speak to me."
His hands tightened around the cup. "We were kids....that accident was my mistake.... I tried to save them... "
"I know," she said quickly, her voice breaking just a little. "I know you did. But that doesn't make it easier. I lost the person I loved most in the world. And I had to see you every time his name was mentioned. Successful. Alive. Doing just fine."
Diego stared down at the table. His fists clenched. "You think I'm doing fine?
"I guess so. "
Diego opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. The office around him started to blur. His chest tightened.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered, but even his own voice sounded far away.
Diane leaned forward. "Diego?"
He couldn't breathe. His hands trembled. His heart raced. He stood up too quickly, knocking his chair over, gasping for air.
"I—can't… breathe—" he choked out before his knees gave way.
"Diego!" Diane jumped to her feet as he collapsed. "Somebody help!"
Everything faded. His secretary rushed in.
" Sir! ", his secretary yelled.
" Please get help! ", she screamed trying to wake him up.
The next thing he saw was the white ceiling of a hospital room. Beeping machines. A dull ache in his chest. And Diane. She sat quietly by the bed.
"You scared me," she said softly.
"I'm sorry," Diego murmured. "I didn't see it coming."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"I am, this happens when I remember him sometimes."
"I'm sorry" she said.
"I blamed myself," Diego replied. "Every single day."
She looked at him then. Something changed. Later, Diane offered to drive him home. He hesitated at the car. But he got in. He was at the passengers seat just like the night of the accident. The moment the car started, memories crashed into him.
Diego grabbed the seat. His chest tightened again.
"Diego? " Diane glanced at him. "Are you—?"
"I—I can't—" he gasped, fighting the seatbelt. "Let me out!"
Diane pulled over quickly, her voice panicked. "Okay! Okay, I'm stopping—"
But it was too late. Diego slumped forward, unconscious again.
When he opened his eyes, he was still in the car, parked on the side of the road. Diane was beside him, holding his shoulders, her voice shaking.
"Diego Please…"
"I'm okay," he whispered weakly.
"You're not," she said. "But you will be."
This time, she drove slowly. No music. Just the sound of the wind and the soft drizzle outside.
At his apartment, Diego let her inside. It was clean, cold, and quiet. Too quiet.
"This doesn't feel like home," she said softly.
"It's not," he replied. "It's just where I sleep."
They talked again, this time without anger. Diane asked about a photo — the one of them and Sam.
Diego found it in a drawer and handed it to her. She smiled faintly, brushing her fingers across the glass.
"I remember his ridiculous laugh," she said.
Diego chuckled. "Like a cough and a sneeze."
They sat on the couch, holding the photo together. For the first time in years, the weight didn't feel so heavy
"I used to imagine what you felt," she said softly, almost like she didn't mean to say it out loud. "If you ever cried for him. If you remembered the way he laughed. Or if you just buried it under work and forgot."
He looked up slowly. His voice was low. . "I never forgot. Not for a second."
Diane smiled. "Then maybe that's something we both have in common."
Diego and Diane became close — really close.
They talked almost every day, sometimes about deep things, sometimes about silly stuff. Diego wasn't used to opening up to people, but Diane made it easy. She listened without judging, and she always knew the right thing to say. It felt good bonding with someone who reminded him so much about Sam.
They spent time together — watching movies, eating out, or just going for walks. One time, Diego tried to cook for her, but it was a disaster. They ended up laughing so hard, and it became one of their favorite memories. Diane brought peace into Diego's life. She didn't try to change him. She just understood him. And that meant everything to him.
He even told her things he hadn't shared with anyone — about his guilt, about his friends , about how lost he sometimes felt. And Diane didn't run from it. She stayed. They weren't perfect, but when they were together, life felt lighter.
*****
The evening had started off casually — a dinner out, just the two of them. But now, as the night went on, things were beginning to feel tense. Diane had been talking about her faith, trying to explain how much peace it had brought her. But Diego couldn't shake the feeling that she was pushing it on him, expecting him to just accept it.
"I don't get it, Diane," Diego said, his voice low but frustrated. "You've been talking about Jesus like He's the answer to everything. But how do you know? How can you be so sure?"
Diane's expression softened, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes. "I know because I've experienced it. I've seen the changes in my life, Diego. I've felt the peace that comes from trusting in something greater than myself. It's not about having all the answers, but about having hope. The only reason I got over Sam's death was because of him. "
Diego clenched his fists, his hands tightening around his glass. "It just sounds like a crutch to me. Something you hold on to because life's too hard. And now you want me to believe in something that doesn't even make sense to me. How is that supposed to help me? How is that supposed to make me feel better? If he really existed, my friends wouldn't have died. "
Diane leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. "I'm not asking you to just believe it without question. I'm telling you that faith has helped me carry burdens I couldn't handle on my own. You don't have to carry all this guilt, Diego You don't have to punish yourself. Everything happens for a reason and that accident happened for a reason. "
Diego stood up abruptly. "I'm not punishing myself, Diane. I'm living with the consequences of my actions. I'm trying to make things right. And you want me to just forget about it and hand everything over to some invisible God? How does that fix anything?"
The tension between them thickened. Diane's face changed. The frustration evident in her eyes, but she didn't back down.
"Several panic attacks doesn't look like you trying to make anything right."
"I cant do what you're asking me."
"I'm not asking you to forget, Diego. I'm asking you to stop carrying it alone. There's a difference. You don't have to fix everything on your own. You don't have to bear that weight forever. Let Him take it."
"Let Him take it?" Diego repeated, his voice rising. "You think it's that easy? You think I can just pray and it will all go away? You think that's how it works?"
Diane's expression hardened slightly. "It's not about it going away, It's about healing, about letting go of the need to control everything. It's about finding peace in the middle of your pain. You think I don't know what it's like to feel lost? But faith has given me the strength to keep going."
Diego shook his head, his mind racing with anger. "I don't need your faith, Diane. I need to be real. I need to face the things I've done. I need to be able to look in the mirror and know that I'm trying to fix my mistakes. Your God doesn't fix that."
The words stung. Diane tried her best not to get upset. Her hands were trembling slightly as she set it on the table. "So you think I'm pretending? That I'm hiding behind my faith to avoid the truth? You think I don't see the flaws in myself, too? I've been there. I've made mistakes. But I found something that gives me hope. You don't have to be perfect, Diego. You just have to be willing to let go."
"I don't want your pity," Diego spat, his voice rising, anger and frustration clouding his judgment. "I don't need to hear about your perfect little life and your 'hope.' You don't know what it's like to lose someone like I did. You don't know what it feels like to have the guilt eat you alive every single day. Don't talk to me about peace when I can't even sleep at night without thinking about what happened."
"I lost him too!", she screamed.
"Well, you're not living with the guilt of killing all your friends!"
Diego turned away, unable to look at her. The anger inside him rose to the surface, but underneath it was something deeper — fear. Fear of being vulnerable, of letting go, of trusting. He couldn't let himself do it. Not after what had happened to Sam. He couldn't risk being disappointed again.
"I don't want your help, Diane," Diego said, his voice low and rough. "I don't want you to fix me. I don't need fixing."
Diane's eyes were filled with a sadness that made his chest tighten. She stood up slowly, taking a step toward him, but her voice was quiet now. "I'm not trying to fix you, Diego. I'm just trying to help you heal. But if you don't want it, I can't force you."
For a moment, there was only silence. Diego's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the walls he had built around himself tightening. Diane was right — she wasn't trying to fix him, but he couldn't let himself believe that. The fear was too much, the guilt too suffocating.
"I'm sorry," Diego said, his voice strained. "I just… I'm not ready for this."
Diane looked at him for a long moment. "I know, Diego . I know. But I hope, one day, you will be."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Diego standing in the middle of the room.. He didn't know if he was ready for what Diane was offering, but one thing was clear: the gulf between them had just grown wider. He had never been one to love God or believe in the Bible. He blamed God for his father's death and also questioned him about the accident. He firmly believed that if God really existed, he would never have gone through all the pain. His mother tried to change his views but Diego didn't want to hear anything about God.