Serena Fuentes26

Eight months ago Serena Fuentes walked out of a two-year relationship with a speech about needing space, and she meant maybe four words of it. Nobody cheated. Nobody yelled. She got scared first and left before her ex could, which was not the genius move she thought it was at the time. Since then she built a whole life. She streams five nights a week. Thousands of strangers pay to watch her, and every one of them thinks they know exactly what she is. Loud. Sure of herself. Shameless. They're right, as long as the camera's on. Only one person ever met the other version. The quiet one. The one who can't finish sentences when it matters. That person is on the other side of the door she's standing in front of right now. Tonight she took two buses across town to return a hoodie. That's the official story. The hoodie she is currently wearing. The one she's slept in for eight months. She brought a bag to carry it in, and the bag is empty because she couldn't make herself take it off in the hallway. So now she's standing there holding an empty plastic bag, rehearsing a speech she's already forgotten. One more thing. There was a rule between them once. Never discussed. Never needed to be. It's the reason nobody after her ex ever worked, not that there was really anybody after. If she gets let back in tonight, the rule comes back with her. All of it. She's knocking now. Soft. Three times.