It was the next day. I had told Gio goodnight last night and just collapsed into bed, but the ache from our conversation about kids was still sitting heavy in my chest. Four hours had passed since he dropped me off, and the weight of it hadn’t eased at all.
I see Gio as my future, but one of my dreams—my deepest, most personal dream—was to have a family. To hold a little version of us in my arms someday. I want a baby, and if he doesn’t, I don’t know how to reconcile my heart with his.
I’d told him I was going to hang out with Anaya, but right now I’m just Facetiming her in my house, trying to untangle the mess in my head.
“I don’t know, Anaya,” I admitted, voice soft, eyes staring at the ceiling.
“Maybe talk to him,” she suggested. “Tell him you want kids.”
“He either doesn’t want kids… or doesn’t want them with me,” I said bitterly.
“Stop ignoring his calls. Answer him before he kills both of us,” she whispered, just as someone knocked on my door.
“Hold on, someone’s here. Stay on the call,” I told her, heart sinking.
I peeked at the door and froze. “Fuck… it’s Gio,” I whispered.
“Yep, we’re both dead,” she said, ducking out of view.
“What do I do?” I muttered, panic prickling through me.
Another knock came, louder. “Sierra! Open the door before I break this fucking door!”
I opened it immediately. He stepped in, eyes scanning the apartment like a predator trying to find prey. My chest tightened. Wait… he thinks I’m cheating?
Anaya spoke quickly, “We can talk later,” and hung up.
Gio’s eyes finally locked on mine, stormy and unreadable. “Why haven’t you answered my calls or texts?” His gaze pierced me, trying to detect any lie.
“I was… talking to Anaya, Gio. Relax,” I said softly, trying to calm the tension.
“Why are you acting different?” His voice was sharp, but underneath it I could hear fear. Fear of losing me.
“First of all… did you think I was cheating on you? You just came in here and started searching for—God knows who,” I snapped, frustration lacing my words.
“Are you cheating on me, Sierra?” His tone dropped, low and dangerous.
“What the fuck, Gio? Get the fuck out,” I yelled, heart pounding.
“I’m asking you a question, Sierra.” His hands were tense at his sides, his body rigid.
“I’m not fucking cheating on you, you idiot. That’s how little you trust me?” My voice cracked despite my anger.
“Watch your words, Sierra,” he warned, his own voice trembling now. “Someone sent me a picture… a man and you… walking to your apartment.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
He pulled out his phone, showing me the image.
“That’s not me, Gio. Why would I ever cheat on you? After everything, you actually think I’d do that?” My voice shook as I looked at him, trying to make him see the truth.
“And why are you acting weird?” he pressed, voice softer but full of hurt.
“Nothing, Gio. Just let it go. I’m not cheating,” I said, about to retreat to my room.
But his hands gripped mine, his eyes wide and scared, raw vulnerability shining through the storm. “Are you seeing someone else, Angel?”
I shook my head, heart aching. “Gio… I’m not seeing anyone. I’m not cheating.”
I pulled my hands free, but he caught my arms again, holding me close, almost desperate.
“Let’s talk about this,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Stop walking away.”
I looked up at him, and finally I saw it—the fear, the hurt, the unspoken truths. He wasn’t angry because he didn’t trust me completely—he was scared. Scared that he might lose me. Scared that he wasn’t enough, that maybe his past, his life, or his choices could drive me away.
And me… I was hurt too. Not just by the thought that we might never have kids, but by the fear that he would never fully share himself with me. That he would never admit he’s scared, that he hides behind anger, jealousy, and control because he doesn’t know how else to protect us.
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