Page 29 of Lost Room Lawyer (Room #4)

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Nico

I could have stayed, but there was nothing left to say. The roles had been clear from the beginning. Even on my first day, I knew where I stood–I was a fun distraction for him and nothing more.

It wasn’t any different the other way around. While Hector paid for sex with men, I had several one-night stands after another; that was normal for me. I was fully aware that I was the affair here. Hector was married, and I hadn’t had any hopes from the start.

Why would I?

That wasn’t my style.

I had never fallen in love.

Even after my confession, I never expected Hector to return my love. After all, he was married.

During the weeks we spent having fun, it became obvious he would do anything to keep the affair hidden. His behavior grew almost paranoid.

But I didn’t care. I didn’t have to think about it because there was no future between us anyway.

So I couldn’t understand why I felt so unbearably empty right now.

Yes, I mourned my mother, but even I could distinguish the hole she left in my life from the pain Hector caused—something I hadn’t been prepared for. The thing in my chest was shattered and bleeding. Numbness returned, and I moved as if in a bubble.

In an attempt to find clarity, I directed the aggression at myself and dug my fingernails into the skin.

How could I be so stupid?

Of course, it was all just a game to him. Pure pleasure! I knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it. And like a complete idiot, I even told him I’d fallen in love with him.

So damn stupid.

The moment I found out about the callboys, I should have pulled the plug. Hector had been living this double life for years. Did I secretly hope he would give it up for me?

What was I thinking?

The self-criticism was useless. The knot around my chest tightened. I felt so dumb. I could have slapped myself, but I didn’t have the strength for that.

The phone vibrated in my back pocket, so I pulled it out and glanced at it. A message from Hector appeared on the lock screen.

“Please, let me explain.”

I shoved the phone back into my pocket. Explain what? What could he possibly explain to me? He’s married.

Twenty minutes later, I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment, my legs feeling as heavy as lead.

I felt miserable and desperately wanted to cry.

But not here. Not in this stairwell where someone might see me.

So I fought my way up to the third floor, trying to ignore that I was just a shadow of myself.

When I reached the top, I pushed the apartment door open and slipped into my room. Standing in the middle, I had no idea what to do with myself. I stared blankly ahead, feeling utterly lost and confused.

“Hey,” Dominic whispered behind me. “You’re back. Wait… are you still wearing the clothes from the funeral?”

My head dropped, and a tremor shook me as I gasped for air. Yes, I was still in those damned black clothes from the funeral. Black—the color I hated most. And suddenly, I knew exactly what I had to do.

I tore off the sweater and fumbled with the belt, as if the clothes were a foreign skin I couldn’t shed fast enough. Off went the shirt. Off went the pants. When I stumbled, Dominic was there to catch me.

“Easy now. What happened?”

Agitated, I kicked my pants and stepped back from Dominic. His warm hands on my cold, exposed skin was overwhelming. I backed away and wrapped my arms around myself. In just my boxers and socks, I stood before him, unable to meet his gaze. I was freezing and felt unbearably alone.

Dominic stood about six feet away from me, making no further attempt to come closer. “Are you going to tell me where you’ve been?”

“With …” I winced and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “With Hector.”

“Oh … and … will you tell me what happened?”

Just trying to organize my thoughts stirred the chaos in my head, so I looked up. The pain I saw on Dominic’s face only made me more confused. “I can’t,” I forced out. It hurt too much.

“You spent the whole night with him?”

I clenched my teeth and balled my hands to fists. A sudden sensation jolted me, as if I’d been touched out of the blue. “Shit. I need to take a shower,” I choked out, rushing past Dominic as I disappeared into the bathroom.

I stood under the hot water for what felt like forever, crying.

Eventually, the sharp cramps inside me subsided, and the thick, humid air allowed me to breathe again.

Ultimately, it was the heat around me that made it impossible to turn off the faucet.

I remained under the water, staring at the wall, focusing on the warmth while pushing everything else aside to avoid spiraling into a panic.

Yet, the sense of terror kept rising within me.

My mother is dead.

Hector loves his wife.

There’s no way I can go back to the law firm on Monday!

Never again!

My heart raced, and I was on the brink of hyperventilating. I had no tears left. After forty-five minutes, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my swollen, reddened eyes, when I heard a soft knock on the door.

“Dude!” I heard Dominic say. Shortly after, he peeked through a small gap in the door. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer him. He had eyes in his head too.

“I have to go. Last day and all that. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Do you still have those sleeping pills? I …”

“Of course,” he said and disappeared into the hallway.

I returned to my room and slipped into a pair of sweatpants. As I was pulling a fresh shirt over my head, Dominic came back with a packet of pills.

“Here. Half a pill should be enough. If not, well … I’ll be back tomorrow. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said before reluctantly leaving the apartment.

I longed for sleep, wanted nothing more than to shut out the world around me, but as I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the pills in my hands, another thought crept into my mind. An idea that seemed more important than escaping into dreams.

Apparently, I was pretty good at pushing away the crap piling up around me, but now something was clawing at my battered walls—something I hadn’t had time for in the past two weeks.

My writing project.

While I had been at my mother’s hospital, countless notes had accumulated. Like a puppet on strings, I set the pills on the bed, sat down at my desk, and turned on my laptop.

I was initially just planning to transfer a few notes, but when the door eventually opened and Dominic was standing there again, I was taken by surprise. Yes, I had wanted to sleep, but it seemed I had already caught more than enough rest in Hector’s apartment to work through the entire night.

“Nico, it’s eight in the morning,” Dominic groaned, glancing at my unused bed. “Please tell me you just got up.”

“I’ve been busy, but I’m going to bed soon,” I murmured, focused on typing. I must have shut the blinds at some point, because only now did I notice the sunlight filtering through the gaps. Since Dominic didn’t say anything else, I turned around.

The night shift was written all over his face. He was tired, barely able to stay on his feet, yet he asked, “Should I be worried?”

“No!” I snapped.

“Good. I’m going to sleep.”

I tried to do the same and closed my laptop.

As I laid down, my mind kept spinning. I had the choice between memories of my mother, the thing with Hector, or my writing project, which had now drifted far from its original ideas.

After all these years of being unable to write, a sudden wave of upheaval had burst open the floodgates, leaving me flooded with ideas.

I tossed and turned, fleeing from Hector and my mother, from the tragedy that had befallen me in the last two weeks, and from the darkness threatening to consume me. But I couldn’t escape, so I took one of Dominic’s pills. By the time it began to work, I sat back at the computer.

My heart pounded, and I was in a frenzy until the medicine finally took effect, and I eventually succumbed to sleep with my head resting on the desk.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. When I woke up, it was two in the afternoon.

Since nothing else interested me, I continued working.

When I glanced at my phone, I noticed the battery was dead.

Even that didn’t matter to me. I lost all sense of space and time.

Completely immersed in the fictional world of my manuscript, I forgot the reality around me.

It was as if I had even shed my body, and it operated on its own like a machine.

“Don’t you have to go to work tomorrow?” Dominic asked, setting a banana in front of me.

“Tomorrow?” I asked without looking up from the screen.

“Your internship?”

I paused and tried not to be overwhelmed by reality. “I … can’t.”

“Because of Hector?”

Dominic sat on my bed, one leg draped over the other. He didn’t seem like he was planning to leave anytime soon.

“I have more important things to do.”

“Hmm …”

“It’s not possible,” I said quietly, my eyes fixated on the banana.

“Did he do something that would justify beating him up?”

I frowned and shook my head. “He loves his wife. That’s not a crime.”

Dominic looked at me with a dark expression. “Dude, you’re in love.”

“It’s ridiculous,” I said, folding my arms. “So unbelievably stupid of me to hope something would come of it. And absolutely pathetic that I let my feelings sweep me away. The thing with my mother is bad enough.”

“Did he take you to his home?”

I nodded weakly. “Fuck … I feel so dumb. No, I can’t go tomorrow … It’s just not possible.”

“I can call for you if you want.”

A tightness gripped my chest, and I struggled to breathe evenly. “That would be nice.”

“Okay.”

Maybe I should see a doctor. Even if Dominic called me in sick for tomorrow, without a medical certificate, I’d have to return to the firm by Wednesday at the latest.

“Eat the banana,” Dominic ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And open the window.” With that, he turned around and left me alone.

Although our conversation was brief, it felt good and gave me a glimmer of hope. But the relief was fleeting. At midnight, the ghosts returned, tormenting me and pulling me deeper into the abyss. I clung desperately to the last remnants of what I had left.

Writing.