“Yehua, he’s drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Aitana said calmly. “He won’t even remember who takes him home. I don’t have to go—and I don’t have the time. Just take care of him.”
She hung up and placed her phone face-down.
The movie began, and the theater dimmed.
Alex glanced at her with concern. “What happened?”
Aitana exhaled softly. “Senior Joaquin got drunk at the Supreme Bar. Someone there called Yehua—the nurse who has a crush on him. She then called me and asked me to come pick him up. I said no. He’s probably drinking because of my rejections, but I can’t go.”
She looked straight ahead, her voice steady but low. “If I go, he’ll think I still care about him, that there’s hope. And then he’ll never let go. But I can’t give him what he wants. I don’t love him.”
Alex nodded. “You’re right. If you don’t love him, don’t give him any hope. Since Yehua’s there, she can handle it.”
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