The last good day
Diego woke to a house that smelled like salt and absence.
The sea outside his window was too calm —
a liar’s smile. He barely noticed. His mind was already three streets over, at Maria’s door.
Maria
His best friend since sandbox days and stolen bike parts. She knew the shape of his silence, the weight of his tells. And today? She’d see right through his "just another trip" bullshit.
The shower was ice.
Water slapped his skin like a punishment he deserved. A long fucking journey ahead. Hours of waves, of Ramirez’s side-eye, of pretending he didn’t count the steps from the dock to her house.
They only had each other.
And he was leaving her in this godforsaken city —
Alone.
Her porch light was still on when he arrived. Always on for him. Today, it felt like an accusation.
Three knocks. A heartbeat of silence. Then—
Maria blinked at him, all sleep-soft and scowling, her bare toes curling against the cold wood of the porch. The neckline of her gown slid down one shoulder, and Diego hated that he noticed.
"Couldn’t wait to leave?" she muttered.
He almost laughed. If only she knew how hard he’d fought to stay.
He stepped inside. The door clicked behind them.
Somewhere, the sea laughed.
The air smells of burnt toast and regret. Maria shoves a coffee at him—black, two sugars, the way he’s drank it since they were sixteen.
Diego swirls the spoon to fast, the clinking fills the silence.
"You could stay.." her voice cracks. "The sea's not going anywhere."
He raised his head and looked at her. Those turquoise blue eyes shine's at him.
"Neither are you" he lies.
Maria slams a small wrapped box on the table. Inside: a new compass.
"It’s brass. Won’t rust." She won’t meet his eyes. "Unlike you."
Diego pockets it, ignoring how the weight feels like a chain.
"Thank you... Maria"
The way he said her name was like a promise... Unspoken.
They sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, and he was fighting with himself about staying and leaving. The porch lights flicker as Diego walks away.
Diego didn't look back. If he had, he'd have seen Maria's mouth the words he'd never say: Come home.
