Somebody to love

The six a.m. alarm sliced through the silence. As usual, I woke up wrapped in Gabriel's arms. He was tall, pale, with dark brown hair—the kind of guy who just captivates you at first glance. We'd been together for two years since we met by chance in a park. At first, our love felt like a fairytale, but over time, it had become something real, with its own set of ups and downs.

Today was Monday, and Gabriel had to go to work. We were at his place, and my first thought was to wake him. I had finished high school a few months ago and still didn't have a plan for my life, or a job.

I kissed him to wake him up, but it took almost twenty minutes. He was exhausted. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at me, a bit annoyed, and immediately checked his phone. It was 6:25 a.m.

"Esperanza! Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" he said, alarmed.

"My love, I tried. You just weren't responding," I said, a lump forming in my throat.

"That's not true. I would've woken up if you'd really tried. Can't you ever think about anyone but yourself?" His voice, full of accusation, hurt. He got up in a huff and left the room.

I stayed there, lost in the vastness of the bed, watching him dress casually in jeans and a green jacket. Despite his outburst, he came back, gave me a tender kiss, and left. His abrupt shift in mood bothered me. Why did he, a grown man, still have temper tantrums like a child?

But then I'd reassure myself that Gabriel wasn't a bad guy. When he wanted to be, he was incredibly romantic. He wasn't the type to go out partying or cheat, which felt rare for a guy these days.

Before I knew it, it was nine a.m. I got up, grabbed my black leather bag with "Esperanza Ramírez" engraved on it, and headed to the bathroom. I showered and put on the clothes I'd brought: light-wash jeans and a pink crop top. I looked in the mirror at my 19-year-old self: long, straight, cherry-red hair, clothes that hugged my slender frame, and pale skin. With my black Converse on, I went downstairs to the kitchen.

My mother-in-law, Mrs. Isabel, was there. She was a stylish, fifty-year-old woman with wavy hair, a happy homemaker supported by my father-in-law, Mr. Andrés.

"Hello, Esperanza! I've already made coffee for breakfast," she greeted me with a warm smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Isabel, how are you?"

"I'm well, dear. I heard Gabriel left for work in a rush; is everything okay?"

"He just woke up a little late, but everything's fine," I said, pretending his outburst never happened.

We had breakfast together and talked for hours. We'd always had a good relationship, and I felt lucky not to have one of those toxic mother-in-laws. The morning passed peacefully until noon. I said goodbye and took a taxi home. The ride gave me time to think. Despite the stability I felt with Gabriel, something was missing.

I got home in just a few minutes. My mom, Mrs. Paula, 52, was waiting on the couch. She was dressed elegantly, as always, in wide-leg pants and floral blouses. Seeing me, she got up for a hug.

"Hi, honey, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm great, Mom. How about you?"

"I was just making lunch. I have to go to the hospital for my night shift."

"Stay strong, Mom. When I get a job, I'll be able to help you out."

"Oh, my dear. I wouldn't need your help if your good-for-nothing father hadn't left us for a 24-year-old," she said with a bitter edge to her voice.

"Let's not think about that, Mom... we don't need him."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not much. He's probably busy with his little girlfriend."

The sadness in her voice moved me. To change the subject, she suggested we eat. She'd made mashed potatoes and chicken.

"That sounds delicious! Let's eat!" I said with enthusiasm.

We ate, laughing and gossiping, and then went to our rooms. My mom needed to rest before her shift, and I... I was just happy to be back in my own space. I put on some music and got an idea: I'd go to the supermarket to get chips, popcorn, and chocolate for a movie night with just myself.

When my mom left for work, I walked out with her. We said our goodbyes, and while she headed to the hospital, I went into the supermarket, ready for my personal date, filled with the promise of a peaceful night all to myself.