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“You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I…”

“You, Mireya Vitelli, didn't do anything wrong,” I repeat the words until she stops trying to argue. “You defended yourself.”

Tears immediately welled up in her eyes. “I’m so angry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.”

She lowers her head, and I realize how empty she looks when she’s like this.

“If he had hurt you…” I break off. “If he had managed to hurt you, I would have killed him myself.” She looked confused but I only met her gaze with certainty as I continued,“I’m proud of you for this, for standing up for yourself.”

Her cat purrs softly on her lap as I look at her profile, illuminated by the moonlight. And that thought comes back again. Always the same.

Wanting and caring for someone who doesn't want to be saved is another way of suffering. Because you see the pain, you see it perfectly, but you can't tear it from your heart.

After a long moment, she finally turns toward me. “Thank you.”

“No need.”

“Yes, you do.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “Thank you for coming back.”

“I told you I would be watching you, Mireya. Don’t thank me, I’ll always come back for you.”

She finally leans completely toward me, her arms gently encircle my neck. I close my eyes for a second, and inhale her existence as the air my lungs always craved for.

I’m finally understanding that you could want to take care of someone with all your heart and still watch them sink.

Then she steps back before saying, “You can go.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “Yes.” Her gaze returns to the window. “I’m going to be okay, I just need to be alone.”

Something in my chest tightens for no logical reason.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Don’t stress yourself out with what happened tonight. I took care of it.”

Her eyes met mine again, brows furrowed, following me as I got up, “Why?”

“Because I made a wish with you last time you were hurt. I want you to be safe.”

God, I don’t even recognize the man she made me become. The more she shuts herself off, the more I want to stay open for two.

“You... Thank you…” she whispers with a broken voice.

“Do not let this destroy you,” I say as my hand rests on the handle, and despite myself, I turn around one last time.

She's still sitting by the window, Blue on her lap, the sky lights behind her. She seems to be there, and yet a part of her already feels very far away.

I wish I could do more, know more and help more, but there are wounds you can’t survive for someone else.

So I just left, and made sure the hotel room was cleared before going back to my office.