Not A Coward

Meliza's POV

I walked out of the party, forcing my head high and my steps steady as I made my way inside the house. But dizziness clouded my vision, and pain radiated from my ankle with every step. I clung to the wall for support, each movement feeling heavier, as if the weight of the night pressed down on me.

I knew my limits when it came to alcohol. Yet tonight, they meant nothing. Watching Ethan's new woman draped over him at dinner, clinging to him like a leech, shattered what little composure I had left. I wasn't supposed to drink, but the sharp ache in my chest, the one I'd been trying so hard to ignore; pushed me past restraint.

Why do I still feel this way? Ethan and I were over. I had no right to be jealous, it was my decision to end things. He begged me to stay that day, but I walked away, terrified for his safety. My mother's threats still echoed in my mind. If I didn't leave him, Fred's men would come for him.

I did what I had to. I thought Ethan came from a humble background, and I refused to let him suffer because of me.

"Breathe, Iza," I whispered, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. All I needed was enough strength to make it upstairs.

I exhaled slowly and took a step forward, but my body betrayed me. My vision swam, and the ground rushed up to meet me. Before I could hit the polished floor, strong hands caught me, steadying me effortlessly.

The familiar scent of Ethan engulfed me, and I froze. His warm breath fanned against my neck, sending involuntary shivers down my spine. Every nerve in my body reacted to his closeness, memories rushing back in waves. I wanted to pull away, to put distance between us, but in this moment of weakness, I couldn't.

I hated myself for craving his touch, for the way my body betrayed me despite everything he'd done.

The alcohol was playing tricks on my mind, filling it with absurd thoughts, like kissing him. I needed to stay away from Ethan if I ever wanted peace. I couldn't forget how he had made me feel like a complete fool.

He had toyed with my emotions while hiding the truth all along. He was never the struggling man I thought he was; Ethan wasn't poor. He was the heir to his father's empire. The greatest liar I had ever known.

"You don't need to pretend you can't handle alcohol, Iza," his voice, laced with cold amusement, cut through the air behind me. Shame burned through me, heating my cheeks.

"You used to trick me with that bullshit," he added, his tone sharper now, each word a dagger to my pride. "You should leave Adriana's farm before you embarrass yourself again. Why are you even here?" His words struck like a whip, slicing through my fragile composure.

I opened my mouth, desperate to respond, to defend myself, but nothing came out. My throat tightened, my chest aching with the effort to hold back tears. How dare he speak to me like this? He had no right.

"I should have listened when they told me you were nothing but a social-climbing bitch." His voice dripped with bitterness, each syllable laced with the resentment he no longer bothered to hide. "My friends warned me you'd never love me, but I was too much of a fool to see it."

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood, swallowing the sob threatening to escape. My fists curled at my sides, trembling with the weight of his accusations, but I refused to break in front of him.

Ethan abruptly let go of me, and I staggered, my balance wavering. But I straightened, forcing myself to stand tall, to meet his cruelty with silent defiance. I wouldn't let him see how much his words cut me, how deeply they reopened wounds I thought had long healed.

Even if I was broke, I still had my dignity. I refused to let him see me weak.

Ethan should be the one apologizing. He knew the real me—he should have believed in me. But his hateful words made it painfully clear: he loathed me more than I could ever despise him. There was no point in trying to explain what happened after I left San Fernando. Like everyone else, he had already judged me, and I was tired of defending myself to people who never truly knew me.

Without sparing him another glance, I limped past him, my breath hitching in relief when I heard his footsteps retreating in the opposite direction.

Jonathan's voice pulled me back to reality. "Are you okay?" His concern was evident as he appeared beside me, slipping an arm around my waist to help me up the stairs.

"No, Jonathan," I mumbled, my exhaustion bleeding through. "I'm not fine. I hate Ethan Almendraz."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You and Ethan," he mused, his tone light but knowing.

I frowned. "What's so funny?" I slurred, barely holding myself upright.

"It's obvious you still love each other," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You're wrong, Jonathan. I don't love him anymore. I hate him... to the core." My voice wavered, but I held my ground. "You have no idea what he did to me."

Jonathan didn't push. He simply guided me to my bed with a quiet understanding.

"Thanks, Jon," I murmured, my head already sinking into the pillow.

"Don't mention it, Iza," he said gently. "I'm glad you're here. It feels good to have you back." His smile was warm, and for a fleeting moment, I felt comforted.

The next morning greeted me with a pounding headache, the kind that made me regret every bad decision from the night before. Before I could sink back under the covers, a rapid knock at my door forced me upright.

"I thought you were ready," Jonathan greeted me with his usual grin when I cracked the door open.

"Blame the wine and margaritas," I groaned, rubbing my temples.

"That's why I brought these." He held out a bottle of water and some painkillers, his expression amused but still caring.

I took them gratefully. "Thanks, Jon. You're a lifesaver."

He smiled, then hesitated for a moment. "You'll always have a special spot in my heart, Iza," he said softly, his gaze flickering away as if afraid to meet mine.

I froze, unsure how to respond. A part of me wanted to say something reassuring, but instead, I offered a small smile. "Thanks, Jon."

He nodded, stepping back. "Take your time. I'll be outside."

As he walked away, I exhaled slowly, gripping the water bottle tightly. Despite everything, Jonathan had always been there. And I wasn't sure if that made things easier or harder.

A pang of guilt settled in my chest. Jonathan had once harbored feelings for me, and I had rejected him without a second thought. He was everything a girl could want, handsome, kind, and dependable. But my heart had never truly been his to claim. It had always belonged to Ethan.

"Give me a minute," I said, hastily pulling on a pair of black pants and a white tank top. Stepping outside, the crisp morning air wrapped around me, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

Without a word, Jonathan slipped his denim jacket over my shoulders, his touch gentle but familiar. "Thanks," I murmured, offering him a small, grateful smile.

But whatever warmth his gesture provided vanished the moment my eyes landed on Ethan. He emerged from the stable, effortlessly commanding his horse, with his girlfriend wrapped around him like she belonged there. She laughed softly, leaning into him, her arms tightly encircling his waist as if staking her claim.

My stomach twisted.

Ethan's gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—before it hardened into an icy glare. The charming smile he had just flashed at Jonathan vanished, replaced by a scowl that cut through me like a blade.

"Good morning, Jo," he greeted Jonathan with an easy, familiar warmth. But when his eyes fell back on me, his entire demeanor shifted.

I swallowed hard, my fingers instinctively curling around the edges of Jonathan's jacket. The weight of Ethan's stare made it clear, whatever we once had was long gone. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder if he still felt the same lingering ache that gnawed at me.

I hated that I cared.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to suppress the jealousy and pain twisting inside me. Watching them together felt worse than the dull throb in my ankle or the relentless pounding in my head. No hangover could compare to the ache of seeing Ethan with her—so effortlessly happy, as if I had never mattered.

"Are you okay?" Jonathan's voice was gentle, his concern evident.

"No," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "My day is already ruined. Physically, I can handle the pain, but emotionally..." I exhaled shakily. "Seeing him like that hurts more than I care to admit."

Jonathan placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't let him get to you, Iza. You're not one to back down."

I stared at the stable, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm not a coward," I muttered, more to convince myself than him.

"Then prove it," he said with a teasing grin, his eyes holding a quiet encouragement that I didn't realize I needed.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I forced myself to move forward. I couldn't let Ethan overshadow my time here—not again. I came to Adriana's farm for a fresh start, to reclaim a part of myself I'd lost, and I refused to let him take that away from me.

As I approached the horse, my fingers trembled slightly, but with each movement, a new wave of determination took hold. Ethan had humiliated me enough. I wouldn't let him see me falter. Not this time.