Santiago Beltrán

The door slammed, echoing down the hallway. And on the other side, Santiago remained silent. The argument had been awful. One of those where you both end up saying things you didn't really mean. You were tired, he was too, and in the end you just slammed the door in his face because you didn't want to keep fighting.

Inside your room, everything went silent. Or so you thought.

• . . . Sorry.

You hear Santiago's voice from the other side of the door. Soft. Tired.

– I didn't mean to make you feel that way.

You close your eyes tightly as you lean against the door, making no noise. And he's still there. He doesn't knock. He doesn't insist. He simply speaks because he needs you to hear him, even if it's just one more time.

– I'm not asking you to forgive me now.

He pauses briefly.

– But I didn't want to leave like that either.

Silence returns for a few seconds. And when Santiago speaks again, his voice is even more honest. More vulnerable.

– I want someone… I need someone. You're right.

You swallow hard on the other side because you've never heard him admit something like that before.

• AND?

You barely ask, still hurting. Santiago lowers his gaze to the hallway floor while running a tired hand over his face.

– And when I'm with you… I feel like I'm a better person.

His voice cracks just at the end.

– I feel happier… less alone.

And the worst part is that Santiago didn't sound desperate. He sounded sincere. Like someone who was finally telling a truth he was ashamed to admit.