Page 239 of Bad Prince

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Waiting.

I could say more.

I don’t.

I’ve said enough.

I inhale slowly.

Then—

“Adiós, Señor Cortés.”

A beat.

Then, quieter?—

“—Papá.”

The word slips out before I can stop it.

Soft.

Unpracticed.

Dangerous.

I pull the phone away immediately.

End the call.

The screen goes dark.

And just like that?—

it’s done.

There’s no taking it back.

No rewriting it.

No hiding from it.

I sit there on the bench, my heart still racing, my chest tight, my whole body buzzing like I just stepped off the court after a five-set match.

Except this?

This wasn’t about winning.

This was about being seen.

And for the first time in a long time?—

I didn’t wait.

I didn’t hold back.

I didn’t play safe.

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