BOUND BY HIS NAME

I stood still after my colleague finished speaking and walked back to her position.

The noise of the cafe returned around plates clinking, voices rising, and footsteps moving-but I heard none of it.

My eyes stayed fixed on the counter in front of me.

My heart was beating too fast.

I slowly opened my palm. The red mark was still there, clear against my skin. I closed my hand again, as if that could erase it.

Hector's face flashed in my mind. The way he smiled. The way his eyes had followed me even after he stood up to leave.

A cold feeling crawled up my spine.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe. I straightened my back, tied my apron tighter, and returned to work.

But my hands were no longer steady.

And no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop thinking about the money still sitting in my apron-and what it might truly cost me.

*****

I never realised how heavy exhaustion could feel until I was finally allowed to rest.

After work, I used the bills Hector had given me-carefully, reluctantly-to pay the overdue rent my landlord pretended he never received. I didn't enjoy taking money from a stranger, especially one as intimidating as Hector, but survival didn't exactly give room for moral choices.

Once the payment was settled, he handed me my key like he was doing me a favour instead of returning what once belonged to me.

I carried my bags upstairs, one after another, each step heavier than the last. When I pushed open the door to my small apartment, relief washed over me.

My bed.

My window.

My tiny desk.

My life, squeezed into a single, humble room.

It wasn't much-cracked tiles, flickering lights, and a bathroom door that squeaked anytime it moved.

But it was home.

And tonight, that was enough.

I threw myself on the bed, exhaustion dragging me under instantly. I slept without dreams, without fear, just a deep, dark nothingness that felt like mercy.

By the time I woke up, daylight had already dimmed. My neck was stiff, my eyes swollen, and my hair a tangled mess. But the worst part.

My body smelt like twelve hours of sweat and misery.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I stripped and stepped under the shower. The cold water hit me like punishment.

Sharp.

Hard.

Unforgiving.

I gasped, hugging myself as the water slapped my shoulders.

And that's when the memories returned.

Mama.

Almost a year in the hospital.

Machines beeping.

Bills are stacking up.

Doctors are shaking their heads.

My whole life collapsed in slow motion.

"Why does everything have to hurt?" I whispered into the water.

It wasn't a question

It was a plea.

A surrender.

The water washed down my skin like reality washing away hope. I pressed my forehead against the wall, letting the cold drain the emotions I didn't have the strength to carry anymore.

When I finally stepped out, wrapped in the only towel I had, my phone buzzed aggressively on the sink.

Five missed calls.

All from my manager from the café.

My heart stopped.

"No... no, please," I whispered, grabbing the phone with shaking hands. "Please don't let it be bad news."

I dialled back immediately.

She answered on the first ring.

"Miss Ramirez?"

"Yes! Ma," I replied.

There was silence-long enough for my knees to weaken.

Then she exhaled, voice soft, almost emotional.

"Someone said you'll be his personal waitress, and you will serve him from today onwards. Nobody else but him."

My breath hitched. "Who? Why? Wh-what happened?"

"The man you spilled coffee on," she said.

My towel slipped slightly. "What?"

"You will not just attend to him; you'll also keep him company, because he paid all the necessary payment, and you must be early."

My throat closed.

"Hope, did you hear what I said?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma, I heard what you said," I answered.

And the call ended.

Tears blurred my vision instantly, rushing out so fast I couldn't stop them.

"The man I spilled coffee on... why did he do such a thing?" I asked, voice trembling.

My knees gave way, and I slid down against the bathroom door, sobbing into my palm.

"I always pay those who you made me inconvenient," his voice flashed back in my mind.

"God, please save me from the hand of Alejandro," I said softly with my eyes lifted up to the ceiling.

"I need to be strong," I whispered over and over, even though I didn't know why.

I arrived at the café early-almost an hour before my shift. My heart beat too fast the entire walk. My hands were cold. I didn't know why, but I kept glancing at the door, waiting for him.

For the man I poured scalding coffee on.

The man who tipped me enough to get my home back.

The man whose presence made my blood race in a way I didn't want to admit.

I was restocking sugar packets when the bell over the café door chimed.

He walked in.

Alejandro. In a sharp suit.

Cold eyes.

A walking storm.

I swallowed hard and approached him slowly.

"Um... Mr De La Vega?"

He looked at me, expression unreadable. "Yes?"

"What should I offer you..." My throat tightened.

He frowned. "Won't you at least allow me to sit first?" he said in a dangerous tone.

"Sorry... I was just doing my job."

He raised a hand.

"No more talking," he snapped in, with his voice sounding commanding and dangerous.

My stomach twisted.

"But, I received a call that I'll-"

"Only attend to me," he interrupted.

He leaned closer and then murmured.

"And I only asked your manager to make you my personal waitress because I want to make sure you pay."

I stared at him, as my chest hollowed out.

Then a voice from behind interrupted, "Miss? My cappuccino?"

"I'm coming," I whispered, stepping away.

Alejandro watched me for a long moment before ordering his usual drink.

But I barely noticed.

My mind was spinning.

The moment I served Alejandro his drink, he ordered me to sit, and that terrified me more than anything else.

He began asking me a lot of questions about my mother and many other things, and I responded not because I wanted to but because I was afraid of losing this job.

My shift ended late.

Exhausted, I walked home, kicking tiny rocks along the sidewalk. The sky was already turning purple when I reached my building.

As I dug out my key, my phone buzzed.

1 New Message

Unknown Sender.

My heart thumped.

I opened it.

I hope you enjoyed your work today. Hope it wasn't stressful?

Another message arrived instantly.

I will be visiting the café tomorrow. I'd love for us to have a brief conversation.

My fingers went numb.

The final message came with a soft vibration.

I know you might be surprised at who is sending this text; it's Hector.

My breath froze. "How, Where did he get my number from?" I murmured.

And what did he want?