"But... our connection was unique, you didn't see it from the inside... the feelings we shared were..." Louie tried to excuse himself, desperately searching for a crack in Brianna's defense.
"Of course I saw it from the inside, you idiot!" Brianna snapped, raising her voice. "I saw how your love grew day by day, how your touches became more frequent and your kisses more passionate. Or do you really think Josephine didn't tell me every detail of her moments with you?"
"But lately things had changed, there was pressure... comments from others..." Louie stammered, trying to justify his behavior.
"Oh yes, the pressure of your 'distractions'!" Brianna retorted sarcastically, her upper lip curling with disdain. "And what did you expect, Louie? That Josephine would sit idly by while you went from flower to flower because 'there was pressure'? She loved you, she gave you her trust, and you trampled on it."
"But I really love her, I don't want to lose her... I made a mistake, I know..." he pleaded, tears running down his face.
"You're my friend too, and have been long before Josephine was," Brianna continued, her tone now colder and more accusatory. "But we both know who screwed up here. You're the one who ruined your relationship, and you have to face the consequences of your actions. Did you think about the consequences when you were kissing others? Did you think about how she would feel?"
"It was a moment of weakness, it won't happen again..." Louie tried to justify himself, his voice trembling.
"I just hope Josephine doesn't leave high school because of you," Brianna stated, not letting him finish. "Because if that happens, Louie, you won't just have lost her, but me too. I'm not going to tolerate you ruining her life with your selfishness. Now go. Give her the space she needs. And think carefully before you approach her again. Because next time, I won't be so kind."
Louie looked at her, the realization of the weight of his actions finally sinking in. He nodded slowly, defeat etched in every line of his face. Without saying another word, he turned around and began to walk away.
Monday morning, I arrived at school with an almost physical need to see Josephine, although I also knew I had to talk to my friends about what had happened. My appearance, I suppose, must have reflected the whirlwind of emotions shaking me, because as soon as I approached our usual group under the tree, Carlos was the first to speak.
"What's wrong, man? You look like hell."
Andrés looked at me with concern. "Everything okay, Louie?"
I sighed heavily, letting my backpack drop to the ground. "No, nothing's okay. Josephine... she broke up with me on Saturday."
The silence that followed was dense, charged with surprise and a kind of unspoken "we told you so" in their gazes. Marcos was the first to break it. "What happened?"
I told them, my voice cracking and shame burning my cheeks, about the confrontation at Brianna's house, my stupid initial denials, and finally, the coldness in Josephine's eyes as she ended our relationship. I described my desperate attempt to kiss her and the firmness with which Brianna had pulled me away.
When I finished my story, an awkward silence hung over us. Andrés was the first to speak, with a tone of pity in his voice. "I'm sorry, man. We knew this was going to happen."
Carlos nodded slowly. "She gave you a lot of chances, Louie. You didn't know how to take them."
Marcos, with a somber expression, looked towards the school entrance, where Josephine had just appeared, walking slowly beside Brianna. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen, and her gait slow and heavy.
"No wonder Josephine looked so bad today," Marcos murmured, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of sadness and understanding.
"I'm going to get her back, guys," I said with sudden determination, a confidence I didn't actually feel but needed to project. "I'm going to talk to her, I'm going to show her I can change. This isn't going to stay like this."
Before they could answer, I turned away with feigned resolve. "And the first thing I'm going to do is break up with the other girls. The game is over. Josephine is the only one who matters."
I walked away from them with firm steps, although inside, uncertainty gnawed at me. The thought of facing Josephine, of trying to repair the damage I had caused her, terrified me. But the prospect of losing her forever was even more unbearable. I had to try. I had to fight for her. Even if I didn't know where to start.
I started by looking for Vanessa, the girl I had given the earrings to. I found her in the hallway, chatting animatedly with some friends.
"Vanessa, can we talk for a moment?" I said, my voice more serious than usual.
She looked at me in surprise, then smiled flirtatiously. "Now you have time for me, Louie?"
"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," I replied sincerely. "The truth is... I'm in love with Josephine. And what we had... whatever it was, can't continue."
Her smile faded, replaced by an expression of confusion and slight anger. "What? Are you breaking up with me?"
"We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, Vanessa," I clarified gently. "But yes, I can't keep seeing you. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to Josephine."
The conversation with Carla was similar, although she seemed more disappointed, even shedding some tears. With Jessica, I was more direct, telling her that I couldn't keep going out with her because my feelings for Josephine were too strong. In each case, I tried to be honest, although I knew my words couldn't erase the damage I had caused them.
When I finished talking to all of them, I felt exhausted but with a strange sense of relief. I had taken the first step, although I knew the road to getting Josephine back would be much more difficult.
That night, I locked myself in my room and wrote a letter to Josephine. It wasn't a letter full of excuses or empty promises. It was a letter where I tried to express the depth of my regret, where I acknowledged my mistakes, and where I asked her, not to forgive me immediately, but to give me the opportunity to show her that I was willing to change, that I was willing to fight for her love.
The next day, I hesitated to approach her directly. Her coldness at school remained an insurmountable wall. Finally, I decided to ask a classmate for a favor, someone who wasn't directly involved in our drama, someone who could deliver the letter without causing more confrontation. I chose Daniel, a quiet and discreet guy from our history class.
"Daniel, could you do me a favor?" I asked him discreetly before class started. "I need you to give this letter to Josephine. It's important."
Daniel looked at me curiously, but nodded without asking. "Sure, Louie. I'll give it to her."
I handed him the folded envelope, my heart beating with a mixture of hope and anxiety. Now all that was left was to wait. Wait for her reaction. Wait for a sign. Wait for an opportunity to try to repair the irreparable.
The days that followed the delivery of the letter dragged on with exasperating slowness. Every glance from Josephine in the hallways, every time I saw her surrounded by her friends, was silent torture. There were no signs, no change in her distant attitude, no comment from Daniel about her reaction. Uncertainty gnawed at me from within, fueling my insecurities and making me doubt if I would ever have a chance to redeem myself.
My friends, although still somewhat distant because of my past behavior, noticed my change in attitude. They saw me quieter, more thoughtful, avoiding any flirting with other girls. Even Marcos, the most critical of all, acknowledged my effort.
"At least you're trying, Louie," he said to me one day while we waited for math class to start. "That's already more than you did before."
"But it's not enough," I replied bitterly. "She doesn't even look at me."
"Give her time, man," Andrés interjected. "You hurt her a lot. She needs time to process it."
Patience had never been one of my greatest virtues, but now I had no other choice. I watched Josephine from a distance, admiring her strength and feeling increasingly guilty for having hurt her. I saw her laugh with her friends, participate in class, and a pang of pain pierced me knowing that I was no longer the one who caused that smile.
The days turned into weeks, and my desperation to communicate with Josephine grew. Her wall of indifference seemed unbreakable. It was then that I had an idea, a way to try to reach her without having to face her direct rejection. I started using Daniel as my personal messenger.
Every day, I wrote a letter to Josephine. They weren't pleas for forgiveness, at least not directly. They were memories of our moments together, drawings, poems. I started working part-time and on weekends, and I started sending her small gifts, which grew over the weeks.
Daniel, unaware of our breakup, accepted my requests willingly. For him, he was just helping two classmates live an old-fashioned romance, where letters were the main means of communication. I told him I wanted to surprise her with special details. He nodded with a knowing smile, delivering my messages without asking questions.
Each time I gave Daniel a letter or a small gift, a pang of hope ignited within me. I imagined Josephine reading my words, remembering those moments, perhaps even sketching a small smile. But the days passed and there was no reaction, no sign that my messages were reaching her heart. Uncertainty remained my constant companion, but at least I felt like I was doing something, that I hadn't completely given up. Although Josephine's silence remained deafening, the idea that my small memories might be planting a seed in her heart gave me a faint reason to keep trying.
As the days went by, however, I began to notice something that ignited a small spark of hope in the midst of my despair. In the hallways, in the cafeteria, even in class, I felt her gaze. They were fleeting glances, sometimes almost imperceptible, but they were there. An instant when her eyes met mine before she quickly looked away, or a feeling of being watched when I looked up.
They weren't looks of hatred or contempt, but rather... curious, even a little sad. Sometimes, I would catch her observing me and she wouldn't immediately look away, but would hold my gaze for a second longer, with an indecipherable expression before turning her attention elsewhere.
These small interactions, although brief and uncertain, were a ray of light in the darkness. Did it mean my letters were reaching her? That the memories were awakening something within her? I didn't know for sure, but the awareness that she wasn't completely ignoring me fueled a new wave of determination in my heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, I still had a chance. The gap that had opened between us might not be as insurmountable as I feared.
That night, restlessness prevented me from falling asleep. Josephine's glances lingered in my mind, fueling a fragile but persistent hope. What did they mean? Simple curiosity? A glimpse that my messages were reaching her? I wished I could decipher the enigma behind her eyes.
The next day, I decided to risk a little more. I asked Daniel to give Josephine one of her favorite cookies, the double chocolate chip with mint ones that they only sold at that small bakery near her house. I attached a brief note: "I remembered you love these."
The wait was even more agonizing than usual. Every time I saw Daniel, I silently interrogated him with my eyes, looking for any sign. Finally, at the end of the day, Daniel approached me with a small smile on his lips.
"She said thank you," he whispered, almost as if it were a secret. "Just that, but... she seemed different today. Calmer, maybe."
A wave of relief washed over me. She had responded! Even if it was just a simple thank you, it was a crack in the ice wall separating us. It meant my attempts weren't falling on deaf ears.
From that day on, I continued to send her small tokens through Daniel: a wildflower I picked in the park where we had our first date, a copy of my favorite book marked in the passages we always discussed, a drawing of her cat sleeping in a funny pose. Each delivery was an act of faith, a silent prayer for a second chance.
And little by little, Josephine's glances began to change. They were no longer so fleeting, but sometimes lingered a moment longer, showing a more open curiosity, even a shadow of an old tenderness. Once, while walking down the hallway, our eyes met and she didn't immediately look away. For a brief second, I felt a connection, an echo of what we had been.
I knew the road to her forgiveness would be long and arduous. I had broken her trust and hurt her feelings deeply. But for the first time since our breakup, I felt a small light at the end of the tunnel. Josephine's glances, those small glimmers in the distance, gave me hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could still be a chance to rebuild what I had lost. I was willing to wait as long as necessary, to demonstrate with my actions the sincere regret I felt in the depths of my heart...
Seven months had already passed since I had started trying to win Josephine back, just like the first time. I was at school, the glances with Josephine lasting longer each time. It was my birthday, and I was chatting animatedly with my friends by the lockers. Suddenly, they fell silent, the change in their expressions causing me curiosity.
"What's wrong?" I asked curiously.
Andrés replied with a mischievous smile, "Louie, I think you did it."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not understanding. I turned slightly without quite seeing anything specific, and when I turned my gaze back to them, the guys were smiling and said in unison,
"Good luck, man," and they started to walk away from me with playful smiles. I didn't understand what was happening until I heard Josephine's soft voice.
"Louie," she said in a soft voice that barely surpassed the murmur of the hallway.
I turned around surprised, my eyes lighting up slightly with a mixture of nervous expectation and a hint of confusion. "Josephine?" I asked softly, almost in a whisper.
"Happy birthday," she said, offering me a sweet smile. My eyes widened in surprise; I was very moved. I never expected her to approach me. "Josephine... thank you." At that, she spoke casually, "I wanted... I wanted to invite you to eat, to celebrate your birthday."
Genuine surprise crossed my face, but I immediately smiled hopefully. "Really? Would you like to eat with me?" I asked.
"Yes," she confirmed, with a warmth in her eyes that I tried not to analyze too much. "And Brianna will come too." I was surprised at first that she had approached me, although the mention of Brianna had discouraged me a little; either way, my smile widened. "I'd love to. Where and when?"
"How about now?" Josephine replied, with a smile. "There's a small café near the school that I like." Joy was flooding me.
"Perfect," I replied.
We started walking towards the exit, and before turning around, I looked at my friends and made a small gesture of triumph with my hands. Joy was consuming me. Just as we passed by them, they started cheering softly, "Yes, you can! Yes, you can!" while subtly jumping in place with their hands raised. At that moment, Josephine's soft laughter filled my ears, a sound I had longed to hear for so long.
Upon leaving the school, the imposing black car with the uniformed chauffeur and the burly bodyguard awaited us by the curb. Some things never change. And to my surprise, a pang of familiarity, even a strange sense of having missed it, washed over me at the sight. It was part of Josephine's world, a world I had shared and that now felt distant and yet... slightly comforting in its consistency.
Upon reaching the entrance, there was Brianna, waiting for us like a faithful squire. The three of us got into the imposing black car that awaited Josephine, my mind still reeling from her unexpected invitation. During the short drive to the café, I tried to relax, listening to Brianna talk animatedly while Josephine remained silent, watching the scenery pass by.
In the small café, Josephine took the initiative and ordered for the three of us. While we waited for the food, the conversation flowed with an initial awkwardness, but Brianna's presence helped lighten the atmosphere. Then came the small cake with candles, and hearing Josephine sing "Happy Birthday" with that sweetness in her voice... it was an unexpected gift.
After eating, I got up to go to the bathroom. Upon returning to the table, the conversation continued in a more relaxed manner. When it was time to say goodbye and Josephine thanked me for the food and the cake, I felt a pang of sadness as I watched her drive away in her car.
It was from Josephine.
My hands were sweating as I carefully opened the envelope, as if fearing to break something precious and fragile. I unfolded the sheet of paper, and the words written in soft blue ink jumped out at me.
My eyes scanned Josephine's words, each one etching itself into my mind like a pang of pain. The weight of my actions became even more palpable as I read her raw and vulnerable honesty.
Happy birthday, the letter began, and that simple phrase, written in her unmistakable handwriting, was already a lump in my throat.
I have so many things to say that I don't know where to start. It's been a few months since we broke up, and I want you to know that it hurt, it hurt to leave you, but your betrayal hurt more, the betrayal of our promises of a future together, our promises of loyalty.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Her words were an echo of my own remorse, but spoken with the force of someone who had been deeply hurt.
"It hurt me to see how little by little you drifted away from me, how in the few times we could see each other you made excuses not to come. It hurt to hear in the hallways about you with other girls, but I refused to accept it because I didn't want to lose you. You are my first love, my first hope, and we both know the connection we had, everything we went through to be together, that's why it hurt so much."
I closed my eyes for a moment, the image of her sad face etched in my memory. Each one of her words was a reminder of my stupidity, of the jewel I had held in my hands and had let slip away because of my own vanity and insecurity. The осознание of the magnitude of my loss overwhelmed me.
I opened my eyes and continued reading, feeling a pang of hope mixed with deep shame.
Even so, I can't deny that I've noticed your change. I know you broke up with every one of the girls you cheated on me with and I know that for months you haven't approached any other woman, and I know why you're doing it.
A pang of relief went through me. She had noticed. My efforts, although clumsy and insufficient, had not gone unnoticed.
You also went back to remembering and having those little details with me that I loved about you, those letters recalling our anecdotes, the sweets I liked, the flowers... because I fell in love with my tender, detailed, and real boy, especially real in my world that is so fake, full of appearances. You were real with me.
A warmth spread through my chest. She remembered those things. She remembered the boy I was before my stupid detour.
I remember our first secret dates, the nervous laughter, the plans we made for a future that seemed so distant but so ours. I remember how you defended me from the criticism of others, how you understood my silences and how you celebrated my little triumphs. You were my refuge, my confidant, my anchor in the storm.
Tears began to blur my vision. Her words were a mirror of what we had built together, of what I, with my idiocy, had put at risk.
And although the wound still hurts, although there are still days when anger and sadness overwhelm me, I can't deny that a part of me will always love you, Louie. Because you were my first love, and that... that is never forgotten.
My heart beat strongly, clinging to each one of her words. Was there a possibility? Could there be a future for us after all?
I've thought a lot about everything this time. About what we were, what we lost, and what perhaps... we could be again. It won't be easy, Louie. Trust breaks like glass, and it costs a lot, a lot to put the pieces back together. But... I'm willing to try. I'm willing to see if that tender and real boy I fell in love with is still there, beneath all those insecurities and mistakes.
A wave of hope flooded me, so intense that it almost made me stagger. Was she saying...?
I want you to know that I remember our promise, to find a way to always return to each other, to fight but always together, and for that promise, for my love for you, and for the change I've noticed, I forgive you Louie
A torrent of emotions washed over me. Relief, disbelief, immense gratitude, and above all, renewed hope. The tears that I had been holding back finally spilled, sliding down my cheeks as I reread the last sentence again and again, as if I needed visual confirmation of those two powerful words.
I forgive you.
No I couldn't believe it. After all the damage I had caused her, my betrayal, my stupidity, she... forgave me. It was an undeserved gift, a second chance I didn't think I deserved.
The letter continued, although my tear-blurred eyes made reading difficult.
But this forgiveness doesn't erase what happened, Louie. It doesn't mean everything will go back to the way it was overnight. Trust is rebuilt with time, with sincere and constant actions. You will have to keep showing me with your actions that you have truly changed, that the boy I fell in love with is still there and that this time, you are going to fight for us the right way.
Her words were a clear reminder that the road to reconciliation would be long and arduous. Forgiveness was the first step, but rebuilding trust would require time, patience, and genuine effort on my part.
I'm willing to try, Louie. I'm willing to give you a chance to show me that you've learned from your mistakes. But I also need you to know that I won't tolerate any more lies or games. If we go back to trying, it will be with honesty and mutual respect. Are you willing to that?
The final question resonated in my mind with meridian clarity. Was I willing? More than willing. I was desperate to have another chance, to show her that I had learned my lesson, that she was the most important thing in my life and that I would do whatever it took to win back her love and trust.
I took a deep breath, wiping the tears with the back of my hand. Josephine's letter was a beacon of hope, a light guiding me towards a future I thought was lost. And I was willing to follow that light, no matter the obstacles I encountered along the way.
I picked up my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I searched for her contact. I hesitated for a moment, mentally reviewing the words I wanted to tell her. I didn't want to ruin this moment with clumsiness or empty promises.
Finally, I pressed the call button and waited, my heart pounding strongly in my chest, to hear her voice on the other end of the line. The opportunity to make amends for my mistakes had arrived. And I didn't intend to waste it.
"Josie," I managed to say, my voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "I received your letter. Thank you."
A brief silence stretched between us, a space charged with shared history and the uncertain future that now lay before us.
"And well?" she finally asked, her tone expectant.
I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts and find the right words. "I'm willing, Josephine. More than willing. I know I messed up, I know I hurt you deeply, and I'm sorry more than I can express. But I love you. I truly love you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I will show you with my actions that I have changed, that the tender and real boy you fell in love with is still here. Give me a chance, Josie. For please."
There was another silence, longer and more tense than the last. I could hear her ragged breathing on the other end of the line.
"I need to see you, Louie," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "I need to see in your eyes if what you say is true."
My heart skipped a beat. It was an opportunity. The opportunity I had longed for so much.
"I don't know how, but I'm going to sneak into your mansion," I said with sudden determination, recalling a precious memory. "Just like I did two years ago, remember? When we spent that week together, hidden from your parents."
A small sigh, laden with surprise and perhaps a shadow of an old smile, was heard on the other end of the line.
"Louie..."
"I'll be there," I interrupted firmly. "Tonight. Wait for me."
I hung up before she could answer, my heart pounding with a mixture of audacity and nervousness. It was risky, perhaps even stupid, but the need to see her, to show her the sincerity of my words face to face, was too strong to ignore. The history we shared, those stolen moments in her mansion, was a powerful bond, a reminder of the genuine connection we had had. And I was willing to risk everything to rekindle that flame.