**Personal Diary**
I’ve always believed in second chances. I thought that if love was true, it would find its way despite the pain, pride, and mistakes. That’s why, when Luis—my ex—wrote to me two years after our breakup, something inside me shook. A mixture of emotion, nostalgia, and a timid hope filled the space around me.
Our separation was hard. There were resentments, silences, bursts of pride on both sides. I spent a lot of time healing the wounds in my soul, learning to breathe again. I even went out with someone else, trying to build a different life. But Luis… he was still there, somewhere deep inside, like a scar that never fully healed. I didn’t forget him. And when he suggested we meet, just to talk, I accepted. Naively, I believed it could be something good. A simple conversation between two adults who had once been close. What could possibly go wrong?
We met in a cozy corner café in the Malasaña neighborhood. I’d arrived first, and when he walked in, I felt a dull thud in my chest. Everything was there—the same posture, that stubble, the same warm, familiar gaze. He smiled, came closer, and hugged me. For a second, I felt like I’d stepped back in time, where everything was simpler and clearer.
We talked for hours. At first, it was just trivial things. Work, news, how we were doing. His voice remained soft, his gaze attentive. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing how I’d lived without him. And I, foolishly, melted. I even began to think that maybe there was still a chance—at least a friendship, a connection.
But then… something changed.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression darkened, and he looked away. As if he were fighting with himself. I felt anxious. Then he spoke.
—Lucia… I have to tell you something. It’s tormenting me. But you have to know the truth.
“What’s wrong?” My voice trembled. “You scare me.”
He sighed, rubbed his temples, and finally looked me in the eye.
“I didn’t come here to reconcile with you. I don’t want to go back. All of this…” he gestured, “isn’t because I’ve missed you.”
I paled. My heart tightened in pain.
“Then why?” I whispered.
He was silent for a moment, then exhaled and said to me:
—I’m using you, Lucía. To get revenge on your sister. On Carmen.
Everything turned upside down.
—What? You… what did you say?
“Your sister… betrayed me,” he said coldly. “She made me believe she loved me. And then she had an affair with someone else. Behind my back. She played me. And now I play her. You’re my tool. The most convenient one.”
I was speechless. My sister—my best friend, my support, the person I trusted more than myself… It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t do this. And Luis? Had that entire afternoon, his sweet words, those looks… been a lie?
“What did she do?” I could barely utter.
“He was with me. And then he laughed at me behind my back.” Her eyes darkened. “You can’t imagine how much that hurt. I lost trust. And now… I want him to feel the same.”
I didn’t know how to breathe.
—Are you using me to hurt Carmen? Me? Why? I didn’t do anything to you!
—I know. I’m sorry. But there’s no other way. She needs to understand what she lost.
Tears welled up. I gasped for air. Everything inside me constricted—embarrassment, pain, disappointment.
“You’re playing with my feelings,” I whispered. “I really thought… I even hoped…”
He looked away.
—I’m sorry, Lucia. I really am. But I suffered too. I was lost. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.
I jumped up. My hands were shaking.
—Enough. I won’t be part of your revenge. I’m not a puppet. I’m a person. And I won’t let you break my heart for something I don’t even understand.
He didn’t try to stop me. He just stood there, his eyes lowered. And I walked away—down the cold street, tears streaming down my face, a single question inside: *How could I have been so blind?*
I’ll never be anyone’s bargaining chip again. And if I have to cut ties with him and my sister, so be it. Because lying, even in the name of love, is betrayal. And I choose the truth. Even if it hurts.
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