VI. The Second Temptation

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He wasn’t sure if he had slept. 

 

The cot was cool beneath him. The light in the ceiling had gone still again. No pulse. No hum. Just silence.

 

Then, in the corner of the room—something new. A faint glow. 

 

It came from the table.

 

The phone.

 

He hadn’t noticed it before. It hadn’t been there. He was certain. 

But now it lay face-up, dark screen flickering every ten seconds. 

 

Like the ceiling light had. 

Like everything in this place did—appearing not when needed, but when noticed.

 

Nico stared at it. 

Didn’t touch it. 

Didn’t move.

 

The first buzz came just after he sat down. 

Short. Familiar. 

 

He’d heard that sound a thousand times—once, it had meant friends, plans, normalcy. But here, it felt like something pulling a string inside his chest.

 

The screen lit up.

 

Lalo

 

No last name. Just the name.

 

He hesitated. 

Then tapped the message.

 

“where are you? are you ok?”

 

His stomach tightened. 

 

He hadn’t thought of Lalo in days—not since the walk. 

But the message didn’t feel like a memory. 

 

It felt recent. 

Like it had just been written.

 

Another buzz. 

 

A new name.

 

Ana

 

He blinked.

 

Ana had moved away years ago. 

The last time he saw her was in front of the panadería, holding her mother’s hand. 

 

But her name was there, bright and casual.

 

“I heard you were back. We should talk.”

 

He swiped again.

 

Photos now—grainy, but real. 

 

One of him and Lalo sitting outside the shop. 

One of his father on the porch. 

One of himself, younger, before things turned quiet.

 

He tapped a voice message by accident.

 

The audio crackled, then spoke:

 

“Hey… it’s me. Haven’t seen you in forever. Just wondering if you’re okay. It’d be good to hear your voice again.”

 

It sounded real.

Too real.

 

He set the phone down, face down.

 

Stood.

Walked in a slow circle around the room. 

 

Nothing had changed. 

No new furniture. No hidden speaker. 

 

Just that same pulsing silence—watchful, expectant.

 

He sat again.

 

The phone buzzed once more.

 

His father.

 

That one froze him.

 

He didn’t tap it right away.

Didn’t want to.

 

Did.

 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been. Come home, mijo. Just come home.”

 

His throat tightened.

 

He put the phone down gently.

 

But it buzzed again.

 

“Everything’s forgiven. Just say yes. We’ll make it right.”

 

He looked around the room, half-expecting someone to be standing there, watching. 

 

But it was empty. 

The door closed. 

The air still.

 

The phone was just a black rectangle again. 

Harmless. 

Ordinary.

 

He picked it up again.

 

Opened the camera. 

 

No image. 

Just black.

 

Then, faintly, his own face emerged. Dim. Uncentered. Not smiling.

 

He stared at it.

 

It stared back.

 

And then—

 

“You don’t have to do this.”

 

He didn’t read the name attached to that one.

 

Because he already knew it was his own.

 

The temptation here wasn’t comfort. 

It was relief.

 

The idea that none of this had to matter. 

That he could just leave. 

That the world he left behind was still waiting, open-armed, unbroken. 

 

It felt so easy.

 

Just say yes. Just say, I made a mistake.

 

The phone buzzed again.

 

He didn’t look. Instead, he whispered—not to the phone, but to himself:

 

“No.”

 

He held it in his palm for a while longer. Then set it down. Screen up.

 

It stopped buzzing.

 

The light dimmed.

 

And the room returned to its old, heavy stillness.

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Continue to Part VII: The Third Temptation

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