Alternative History - Chapter 3 - Jealousy and a Letter
In the Previous Chapter:
Tavo arrived at Lucia's apartment just as she discovered that Federico had been cheating on her with Daniela. He helped her work through the guilt she had been carrying over what had happened in Iguazú and encouraged her to see the situation from a different perspective. When Lucia confronted her boyfriend, however, she was met not with remorse but with accusations that she was having an affair with Tavo.
One evening, Lucia helped ease Tavo's severe headache by giving him a massage. A few days later, she decided to end her relationship with Federico once and for all. But her visit to his apartment turned into a traumatic experience. Drunk and out of control, Federico threw Lucia onto the bed and attempted to rape her. At the last moment, he came to his senses and ran away, leaving her in a state of shock. Terrified, Lucia called Tavo, who rushed to her rescue and took her to his home.
Tavo gave Lucia a safe place to stay, provided her with clothes, and let her have his bedroom while he spent the night on the sofa. He looked after her, helped her calm down, and stayed by her side when she woke screaming from a nightmare in the middle of the night. At her request, he remained with her until morning. The next day, he persuaded her to take time off work and rest. In the peaceful atmosphere of his home, Lucia gradually began to regain her balance, although she was still struggling with the trauma. During the day, Cecilia dropped by and found Lucia in Tavo's bedroom, jumping to the wrong conclusions.
After work, Tavo bought Lucia new clothes because her own had been torn during the assault. Lucia decided to return home and try to reclaim some sense of normality, even though Tavo believed it was too soon. He also told her that Federico had committed a theft and fled the city. Tavo then drove Lucia home and embraced her to offer comfort and support. Kuka arrived and found them together. To avoid uncomfortable questions, they invented a story about Lucia having spent the night at her mother's place and subsequently being mugged at a bus stop. Kuka remained suspicious, but when she witnessed Lucia having a nightmare that night, she realized that the girl had been through something genuinely distressing.
The following day, Kuka watched as Tavo comforted Lucia after another upsetting incident. Lost in thought in the kitchen, Lucia dropped a mug when one of her colleagues unexpectedly touched her. Her sudden, instinctive reaction revealed just how deeply the traumatic events had affected her sense of safety. Tavo once again took care of her, and Kuka began to recognize the strength of the bond between him and Lucia.
Alternative History - Chapter 3 - Jealousy and a Letter
Lucia is not yet ready for work
Kuka had just finished a call with a client and was making the final notes in her appointment book. After ending the call, she sat for a moment, looking over her notes, until she heard the office door open.
Tavo walked in, holding an open folder. He glanced at her briefly before sitting down opposite her without saying anything and spreading a stack of documents across the desk. For a while, the only sounds in the room were the rustle of paper and the soft tapping of a pen against the desk.
Kuka was the first to break the silence.
"Figueros just called. Lucia has to finish the photo shoot tomorrow."
Tavo didn't even look up.
"Not tomorrow. That won't happen. They'll have to wait until she's feeling better."
Kuka lifted her eyes from her papers.
"I don't think she's so ill that she can't work. Besides, I already told them they could count on her."
Only then did he look at her.
"Yes, she's doing better. But she's been through a severe shock. She needs time. Call them back and tell them they'll have to wait until next week. She's not ready yet."
Kuka was silent for a moment.
After everything she had seen the day before, it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate this business conversation from what had happened outside the office. That morning, she had tried to convince herself that she was imagining things. Then she had seen Lucia after her nightmare. A few hours later, she saw Tavo holding Lucia's hands as though he were the only person capable of calming her down.
Now she heard that same tone again.
He wasn't speaking like the head of an agency.
He was speaking like a man who had taken responsibility for one particular person.
"A severe shock because she was attacked by muggers?"she finally asked, with a hint of irony. "I understand it was unpleasant, but nothing truly terrible happened. They didn't steal anything from her, and she wasn't physically hurt. Don't you think you're overreacting?"
Something flickered across Tavo's face.
For a moment, the office disappeared. Instead, he saw Lucia sitting on his bed with her eyes wide open after a nightmare. Then he saw her trembling hands hovering over the broken coffee cup. He needed nothing more.
"Something else happened to her."
Kuka sighed. "Yes, I know. She found out her boyfriend turned out to be a thief."
For a moment, Tavo wanted to tell her the truth. To tell her that Federico hadn't just lied to Lucia. He had done something she wouldn't be able to forget for a very long time.
But it wasn't his truth to tell.
"You think that isn't enough?" he asked quietly instead.
"I think she shouldn't mix her personal life with her work."
"Not everyone is as strong as you are."
The words lingered between them.
Kuka set down her pen.
"Yes, I've noticed that." She leaned back slightly. "But she won that competition to become one of the agency's top models. She can't just walk away from all of this now."
"She's not walking away from anything. She just needs a little time."
Kuka studied him for another moment.
The longer they talked, the more she could see through his arguments and sense the emotions that Tavo almost never allowed himself to show. She had known him for years. She knew how carefully he separated compassion from business decisions.
Today, that line had vanished.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, Tavo." There was no irony left in her voice now, only genuine bewilderment. "You're spoiling her terribly. Believe me, you're only making things worse."
Tavo didn't answer immediately. He slowly closed the folder and rested both hands on top of it.
"I'm not spoiling her."
He looked Kuka straight in the eye.
"I'm simply not going to let anyone expect her to act as though nothing ever happened."
Silence settled over the office.
Kuka said nothing. For the first time in days, she found herself thinking that perhaps she had been right about one thing after all. Tavo really was hiding something from her.
But another realization unsettled her even more. She couldn't remember him ever speaking about anyone with such quiet conviction. Not because he felt obliged to.
Because, in his mind, there simply wasn't any other way he could possibly act.
"That will be my problem"
Touring the house and a second meeting with Cecylia
After work, Tavo took Lucia with him from the agency without a word. He didn't ask whether she wanted to go, and she didn't object. He knew that if he had asked, she would probably have insisted she was fine and could manage on her own. After what he'd witnessed that morning in the kitchen, he was quietly certain that leaving her alone would be a mistake. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it, not when it was so obvious she was still far from regaining her balance, despite everything she'd told him.
The same attentive silence settled over the car as before. Tavo drove with steady confidence, but every so often he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as if checking that she was still there, that she hadn't retreated into herself again. Lucia sat upright, her hands folded in her lap. She seemed calmer than she had earlier, yet still somehow set apart from the rest of the world.
"You know," Tavo said suddenly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "you've already seen my bedroom."
Lucia looked at him, surprised, and the corner of her lips twitched.
"So?"
"Nothing," he replied lightly. "I just thought it would be unfair if that was the only part of the house you ever got to see."
She studied him for a moment, as though trying to decide whether it was really safe to smile. Then, for the first time since morning, she did. The tension in her shoulders eased, if only a little. Tavo noticed.
"I'll show you the rest of the house," he added more quietly. "If you'd like."
He didn't press her. Those last words—if you'd like—hung between them, somehow more important than the invitation itself.
Lucia gave a small nod.
Tavo's house was bright, spacious, and orderly in a way that never felt cold. It wasn't rigid perfection, but the quiet order of someone who knew exactly where practicality ended, and comfort began.
"The kitchen," he began as they stepped inside.
He never finished. The front door opened.
Cecilia walked in with the ease of someone who knew the place by heart. She didn't hesitate or pause in the doorway. She slipped off her light jacket in one fluid motion, as though she'd been there yesterday—and the day before—and saw no reason to question a routine that had long since become second nature.
Lucia greeted her with a polite nod, a little cautiously, as though searching for the right balance between being a guest and someone who didn't want to impose.
She never got the chance to say anything.
"We've already met," Cecilia said casually, as though that fact naturally came before any introductions. Her gaze swept briefly over Lucia with easy curiosity—neither tense nor deliberately warm, yet without the distance that might have made the other woman feel more at ease.
"I just didn't expect that I saw you in his bed... and wearing his shirt."
She said it in an almost conversational tone, as if she were commenting on something perfectly ordinary. And it was precisely that casualness that made the words linger in the air with far more weight than they should have.
Lucia felt something inside her immediately retreat. Not outwardly, but inward. Her body drew in on itself, her shoulders tensing ever so slightly, her gaze slipping away. For a brief moment, it felt as though someone had opened the door to a place that had belonged only to her and Tavo.
For a moment, Tavo said nothing.
Cecilia's remark, in itself, shouldn't have affected him. He knew what she was like. She often spoke too bluntly, rarely stopping to consider how her words might sound to someone else.
But this time, he heard something he had never noticed before. It wasn't about the shirt. It wasn't even about the bed.
It was the way she'd stripped the moment of its privacy, as though something painfully fragile and uncertain for Lucia were nothing more than another trivial detail from his life to be mentioned in passing.
He looked at Cecilia a little longer than usual. There was no anger in his eyes yet. Only the quiet, uncomfortable realization that she'd crossed a line she hadn't even noticed.
Meanwhile, Cecilia had already moved on, naturally slipping back into the rhythm of the house. As she passed Tavo, she brushed his arm lightly, as though claiming his attention for a moment, then continued deeper into the apartment, talking about the rooms, the light, and the little touches she herself had added over time. Her voice was relaxed and warm, as if she were simply picking up a conversation they'd started long ago, somewhere else, in another chapter of their lives.
"I'd still change a few things here, sweetheart," she said offhandedly, gesturing toward one corner of the living room with the same effortless ease that colored everything she said.
She didn't make a point of it. She didn't pause for effect or wait to see anyone's reaction. She simply wove the endearment into the sentence, just as naturally as she had straightened his collar before. As though sweetheart had always been part of the language they shared.
A moment later, she brushed her fingertips against his forearm again while pointing out another detail near the window, then wandered a few steps farther, already absorbed in another idea, another suggestion for the room.
Tavo answered her briefly, without changing his tone, though he didn't step away immediately.
Lucia stood slightly apart.
At first, she still tried to follow the conversation, but the words gradually blurred together until they no longer seemed to mean anything. Tavo's replies reached her only in fragments. With every one of Cecilia's gestures—so effortless, so familiar—something inside her grew quieter... and colder.
She wasn't angry. That would have been easier. Instead, she became increasingly aware that she no longer knew where she belonged in any of this. And the longer she stood there, the stronger the feeling became that she was occupying a place that had never been meant for her.
It took Tavo a moment to notice. Then something in his expression shifted. Not because of Cecilia's words. Not because of her gestures, which meant very little to him. But because Lucia had stopped asking questions. Because her answers had become shorter, almost mechanical. Because her eyes kept drifting away.
For the first time, he saw the scene through someone else's eyes.
He interrupted Cecilia in the middle of a sentence.
"We need to stop by the agency for a little while," he said calmly, though there was a quiet firmness in his voice that hadn't been there before.
Cecilia raised an eyebrow, as if she were about to say something else, but he didn't give the moment room to continue.
Lucia simply nodded, almost automatically, and followed him without a word.
The moment the front door closed behind them, she felt a wave of relief. And that relief hurt more than anything else. Because it meant she hadn't even tried to stay. Some part of her had already been preparing to leave.
That’s just how Cecylia is...
They returned to the office in a silence that no longer felt as light as before. The space seemed larger than usual, empty and dimmed after working hours, carrying that particular chill that settles into rooms once the people and their voices disappear. The sofa in the office stood exactly where it always had, as if nothing could ever change its place or its meaning.
Walking beside Tavo, Lucia had the strange feeling that her body was slightly behind reality. Back at the house, everything had been overwhelming—too many sensations, touches, words, someone’s constant presence. Here, there was only silence and something she couldn't quite name, something that had been pressing beneath her ribs from the moment they left. She wasn't sure whether she should talk about it or simply pretend it meant nothing.
They sat facing each other, unhurried, but without the natural ease that had surrounded them earlier that morning. Tavo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor for a moment as if arranging his thoughts and searching for the right way to begin.
For him, this moment wasn't heavy because of what had happened itself, but because of how carefully he now had to choose every word. Cecilia had always been impulsive, never a complication—a part of a world that followed completely different rules from the one he was now trying to create around Lucia.
"I'm sorry about Cecilia," he said at last, calmly. "She shouldn't have behaved that way."
Lucia gave a small shrug but didn't answer immediately. Inside, she could still feel the echo of that room—the too-familiar gestures, the effortless words. And although she tried to reason with herself, something inside her refused to settle. It wasn't one specific emotion, but rather a vague tension that had not yet found a name.
"When the renovations are finished..." she began finally, more carefully than usual, "will Cecilia still be able to just come to your place whenever she wants, without warning?"
As she said it, she was almost surprised that this was the first question that had come to her mind. It didn't sound like an accusation. It was more an attempt to understand the rules of the world she had suddenly found herself in—a world where someone could walk in so freely and touch him with such natural familiarity.
Tavo looked up, surprised not by the question itself, but by the strange mixture in her tone: something almost casual, yet carrying an unmistakable tension.
Lucia hesitated for a second, then added, as if it were only a passing thought, though something more personal had slipped into her voice:
"And that... is that normal in her line of work?" she asked after a moment. "For someone to walk into your house and say things like that to you?"
The question came out faster than she had decided whether she truly wanted to hear the answer. More than anything, she wanted to know how much of what she had seen was simply "normal" and how much was something that only bothered her. She shifted slightly on the sofa, watching him carefully, then, almost testing the taste of the words she'd heard earlier, repeated them quietly with a hint of exaggerated nonchalance:
"I'd still change a few things here, sweetheart."
Saying the sentence aloud created a strange ache inside her. It wasn't even about the words themselves, but about how easily the image of Cecilia returned—standing too close, saying them without the slightest hesitation. And about how deeply Lucia still didn't know where she belonged in all of this.
For a moment, Tavo was genuinely amused.
Not because he thought she was exaggerating, but because he heard something he had never noticed before. Only now did he realize how strange the phrase sounded when taken out of context. To him, it had always been so ordinary that he had never stopped to consider that. To Lucia, it wasn't ordinary at all.
"I never noticed that," he admitted honestly, still with a trace of amusement in his voice. "That's just how she is."
Lucia didn't answer right away. Her expression remained calm, but inside she felt something like a small sting—not exactly rejection, but the feeling of not having a place where her reaction could matter. Tavo's laughter sounded natural, but to her it was also a sign that perhaps what had affected her wasn't important enough to take seriously.
"Really, Lucia," he added, still smiling. "That's just Cecilia. It doesn't mean anything."
"Of course. That's just how she is," she said shortly, then smiled widely, as though she had heard the funniest joke in the world.
Except her eyes betrayed her. They showed him exactly how forced that smile was, how much effort it took to keep it there.
Tavo understood immediately that this wasn't really a conversation about Cecilia. And that Lucia's lightness wasn't ease at all. It was a struggle.
Lucia stood up suddenly, as if she had made the decision before she had even had time to think about it. Deep inside, she felt something close to exhaustion from being "too sensitive" about things that seemed completely ordinary to everyone else.
And she left the office before Tavo had a chance to react.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Walking down the corridor, Lucia had the strange feeling that her footsteps were too loud compared to how much she wanted to disappear. She wasn't sure whether she was more angry, embarrassed, or simply tired of feeling as though everything around her followed rules she had never been taught.
Tavo remained on the sofa for a moment longer, staring at the place where she had been sitting only seconds before.
The laughter that had come so easily moments earlier vanished completely, replaced by something heavier, more thoughtful. Only now did he understand that all this time he had been trying to calm her fear of the world around her, without realizing that, in that moment, she was afraid of something entirely different.
She was afraid that she had no right to matter to him.
After several long seconds, he stood up, wanting to catch up with her. But when he stepped into the hallway, there was no one there.
He stopped. He wanted to drive her home. Talk to her. Make sure she was all right. But the corridor was empty.
So he slowly returned inside, closing the door behind him, and only then sat down again.
For a moment, he stared at the floor, as though trying to return to the conversation they had been having before. And then, completely against his will, a thought appeared—one he had no business putting into words so clearly:
It wasn't just jealousy.
He knew it immediately, even though he didn't want to admit it.
Beneath her questions, beneath that carefully maintained calm, there hadn't been only uncertainty about Cecilia. There had been something far more fragile—a fear that she had no right to expect anything more from him.
And that thought affected him far more than it should have.
Photos from Iguazu
Over the following days, nothing happened between them that could truly be called a change, and yet something had shifted — quietly, almost imperceptibly — in the way Tavo was there for her.
He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for more than she was ready to give. Sometimes he would simply pause beside her a little longer at the agency, asking if she was all right, as if it were the most natural question in the world. Lucia’s answers varied. Sometimes they came quickly, sometimes with a slight hesitation, as if she first had to search within herself to see whether she was allowed to say “yes”.
There were moments when she accepted his gestures without resistance — the cup of coffee he handed her, the door he opened, the simple “come on” that meant he was there. Her body had already begun to remember that around him she didn’t have to stay tense all the time. Other times, she would take half a step back, retreating into her old caution, reminding herself that closeness was still something she had to choose.
Not because she had stopped trusting him. Because she was beginning to trust him too much. And after what she had seen at his house, she was no longer sure whether she was allowed to find her place there so easily.
Tavo never commented on it. He simply watched her more carefully than before.
One day, at the agency, between meetings, he called Lucia into his office and spread a set of photographs across his desk. There was nothing formal about it — it was something simple, almost an attempt to slip a small piece of another world into her day. The world from before the tension and constant alertness that had followed her for the past few days like a shadow.
"From the trip to Iguazú," he said calmly. "You can choose whichever ones you want."
Lucia approached slowly, unsure whether she was allowed to step into those memories so freely. She stopped by the desk and leaned over the photographs, while Tavo stood beside her, slightly to the side, watching her carefully but without putting any pressure on her.
For him, it was a simple gesture — showing her something that had existed before everything became complicated.
For her, though, the moment carried something much more fragile.
She held in her hands the memory of a time when she had allowed herself to be completely at ease with him, before she remembered that his world did not end with her. That there were people who had known him for years, people who moved through his life with an ease she still couldn’t achieve.
The photographs brought back the sound of the waterfall, the heavy air filled with humidity, the sunlight shattered into countless drops. And there was that version of herself — lighter, less guarded, not yet so painfully aware of everything that could happen afterward.
She moved through the pictures slowly, searching for something she could recognize without hesitation.
Then she stopped at one.
They were in the boat. The waters of Iguazú spread around them like something alive and immense, and yet there was a surprising sense of calm in the frame. Their faces carried none of the tension she knew all too well now, only something that resembled simple presence — being there without the need to defend themselves.
"This one," she said quietly, without taking her eyes off the photograph.
Tavo looked at the picture and nodded.
"Good."
For a moment, they remained silent. Then he moved a few more photographs closer to her, wanting to see if anything else would catch her attention.
"What about these?"
Lucia turned her head and only then realized how close he was standing. Too close for an ordinary conversation about photographs. There was nothing sudden about it, nothing that could be clearly defined, and yet something inside her immediately tightened.
Not because she was afraid of him. Because she suddenly became aware of her own closeness to him. She remembered that another person’s presence could be both comforting and confusing at the same time.
She stepped away from the desk faster than she had intended.
"No, this one is enough. Thank you."
Her voice remained calm, but there was already a distance in it. She picked up the photograph she had chosen and, before she had time to sort through the emotions rising inside her, she left the office.
Tavo stayed by the desk for a moment longer. He looked at the scattered photographs, then at the empty space where Lucia had been standing only seconds before.
Nothing had changed. They were still just pictures, ordinary memories from a trip. And yet, for the first time, he didn’t think that Lucia was pulling away from him.
He was beginning to understand that sometimes she stepped back precisely when she wanted to stay the most. And instead of bringing him relief, the thought made him even more careful. Because suddenly he understood that the hardest part would not be convincing her that she could trust him.
The hardest part would be making her believe that she had the right to want that trust.
Memories of Iguazu and Lucia's thoughts
That afternoon, Lucia returned to her room and framed the photograph. Only now did she allow herself to truly stop and look at it. She sat on the edge of the bed and simply stared for a while.
A smile appeared before she had time to control it.
She remembered the joy of being surrounded by nature, the rush of adrenaline after the fast ride on the water only moments earlier. The sense of safety and comfort she had found beside him, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. And finally, the kiss she couldn’t get out of her mind or pretend had meant nothing.
But that inevitably led her to remember other moments — his hand finding hers when she hadn’t even asked for help. The way he could calm her simply by being there, something that had seemed impossible not so long ago, but that had slowly become part of her everyday life after returning.
The warmth of his body when she fell asleep, briefly convinced that she really could be that close to someone.
Only after a while did the thought begin to change. At first, subtly. Then more clearly, as other images started appearing in her mind — images that were not always easy to face.
Tavo.
His calmness, the way he never asked for more than she was ready to give.
Cecilia, calling him “sweetheart” as if that word belonged to their world as naturally as the air inside his home.
And herself — here, in this room, holding the frame in her hands, as if for a brief moment she had been allowed into something that was not entirely hers. Something that belonged to someone else, existing beside her life rather than within it.
Her smile faded slowly, and Lucia felt a familiar tension return — not sharp, but heavier, spreading beneath her skin.
She still couldn’t name exactly what bothered her about it all. She only knew that the lightness she had felt by the waterfalls sounded different now when she looked at it from a distance, as if it had been something that could only exist under certain circumstances — circumstances that no longer existed.
She sank deeper onto the bed, as if trying to create more space inside her own thoughts.
For a while, she kept her eyes on the frame. Her fingers moved along the edge of the photograph without realizing it. She wanted to hold on not just to the image, but to the feeling that came back every time she looked at it.
It was the simplest memory from the entire trip. One photograph. A few seconds frozen on paper.
And yet it was the one that reminded her most clearly of how easy it had been to forget everything she had spent her whole life guarding against. That she should always be careful. That she should never become used to someone’s presence. That she should never allow herself to believe that something could truly belong to her.
She opened the drawer. She paused for a moment before placing the photograph inside — too long to pretend it was nothing more than ordinary tidying.
For a brief second, she wanted to leave it somewhere visible. To allow herself to look at it every day. But that was exactly what frightened her the most. Not the fact that the photograph reminded her of Tavo. But that it was beginning to remind her of herself — of that version of Lucia who, when she was with him, didn’t have to be strong, careful, or ready to run away.
Slowly, she placed the photograph inside the drawer and closed it quietly.
With that simple movement, she tried to convince herself that she could put away something she had not wanted to let go of only moments earlier. She just didn’t know whether she had hidden the photograph away... or her own desire for it to remain there.
Tavo gives Kuca the results of Daniela’s medical tests
Tavo couldn’t find the right moment for a long time.
Ever since Gabriel had given him the test results, he had carried them with him, even though several times he had wanted to hide them somewhere deep and pretend he had never seen them. Not because he had any doubts about what was written on that piece of paper.
He knew what that news meant to Kuka.
When she arrived at his house, they spent a while talking about things that had nothing to do with what was waiting between them. Work. How long it had been since they had found the time to sit down and truly talk. Everything a person could say when they still weren’t ready to speak the one sentence that mattered.
Eventually, they sat down on the sofa across from each other.
Kuka watched him carefully. She had known him for too many years not to notice that something was wrong.
"What happened, Tavo?"
He didn’t answer immediately. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor for a moment. Then he ran a hand over his face and began rubbing his temples.
"I need to tell you something important."
For a moment, she looked at him the way she had many years earlier, when she had tried to read from his expression something he had not yet dared to say.
She heard in his voice exactly what she wanted to hear. The uncertainty and seriousness she saw on his face, she interpreted differently from what he actually meant.
She smiled faintly.
"Do you remember our first date?" she asked softly.
Tavo closed his eyes.
"Kuka..."
"Back then, everything seemed simpler. I thought nothing would ever come between us. That if two people truly loved each other..."
"Stop."
He didn’t say it harshly. But he wanted to stop the conversation before it went in a direction he was no longer willing to reopen.
Kuka looked at him, surprised.
"I would give anything not to be the one who has to bring you this kind of painful news."
The smile disappeared from her face.
"Painful?"
For a moment, Tavo searched for the right words. It wasn’t only about the test results. If the problem ended with a single piece of paper, it would have been easier. And that was exactly why he had waited so long.
He knew he wasn’t just taking away an illusion from her. He was taking away something that had become real to her.
"About Daniela."
Kuka stared at him, motionless. Then, slowly, she stood up.
"I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You invited me here to talk about my daughter?"
Tavo stood as well.
"Yes. That’s exactly what we’re talking about."
He took a step toward her, but when he lifted his hand, Kuka moved away. For a second, he looked as if he had forgotten that he was supposed to take another step forward. Then he lowered his hand.
"Wait, because I don’t understand."
Her voice grew sharper.
"You’re going to start saying more lies about her again!"
"Kuka..."
"No! I don’t want to hear this again!"
Tavo cut through her protests without hesitation.
"She is not your daughter."
For several seconds, nothing happened. As if even the sound of that sentence needed time to reach her. Kuka stared at him without blinking.
"How can you even come up with something like that?! Why would you?!"
"Listen to me. I saw the genetic test results."
She turned away.
"No."
She started walking toward the door.
"Kuka, please."
"I’m not going to listen to this."
Tavo reached for the documents lying on the table.
"Stop and look."
She didn’t want to. For a moment, she stood with her back to him.
"You really think I’m going to believe another thing against her?"
"I’m not asking you to believe me."
He held out the papers.
"I’m only asking you to read them."
She took them reluctantly. The first few seconds changed nothing. Then her eyes stopped on one line. She read the same fragment again. And again. This time, slower.
She sat down on the sofa. The documents slipped onto her lap.
"No..."
It was more a breath than a word.
"No..."
Tavo stood in front of her, but he didn’t move closer.
"My little girl..."
Kuka stared ahead.
"What am I going to tell her?"
Her fingers tightened around the papers.
"That I’m not her mother?"
Her voice began to tremble.
"She’s been through so much. She needed me so much. I thought that finally she had found her place. That I was that place."
Tavo listened to her, and it was then that he understood they were no longer fighting over the same Daniela. Kuka saw the girl she had loved and wanted to protect from any more pain. He saw someone who had known from the beginning how to use that love.
She looked at him.
"We had plans."
She was silent for a moment.
"She loves me."
Tavo lowered his eyes.
"I would do anything for this not to be true."
Kuka closed her eyes.
"How am I supposed to tell her? Poor thing..."
Tavo looked at her, surprised.
"Poor thing?"
She didn’t answer. Tavo remained silent for a moment. He knew that in a second he was going to take away the last thing she was still trying to hold on to.
"Do you really think she sees herself as your daughter?"
Kuka opened her eyes.
"What do you mean?"
Tavo hesitated. He knew this was the part Kuka would not be able to accept. The test results could hurt her, but these words could completely break her.
"That girl is pretending. She’s acting. She’s deceiving you. I am absolutely sure of it."
Kuka stood up abruptly.
"No."
"Kuka..."
"Don’t talk about her like that. Not after everything she’s been through."
"I know what I saw."
"And I know what I felt!"
Her voice echoed through the walls of the apartment. For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Then Kuka turned around and walked out. Tavo remained frozen for a second. He knew he should let her go, give her time.
But he couldn’t stand there and watch her leave the house believing that someone had just taken her daughter away from her — and that person was someone she had once trusted.
"Kuka!"
Tavo comforts Kuka, and the misunderstanding with Lucia
They drove home together. Almost the entire way, they barely spoke. Tavo kept his eyes on the road, focused on driving, but his thoughts kept returning to what had happened earlier. To the moment when he saw the test results. To Kuka’s face when she realized that everything she had believed in might have been nothing more than an illusion.
And yet he knew that, for her, it did not end with a piece of paper. To her, Daniela was still the girl she had grown to love.
When they arrived home, Kuka went upstairs immediately. Tavo stayed in the living room, sitting alone on the sofa and staring ahead. He could hear muffled voices coming from upstairs, but he made no attempt to listen. He knew that conversation had to happen between the two of them.
It did not last long, but it was enough.
When Kuka came back downstairs, Tavo immediately saw that something had changed. She did not have to say a word. One look was enough. Just an hour earlier, she had sat across from him with the document in her hand, as if someone had torn away a piece of her life that she had always considered certain. Now there was still pain in her eyes, but beside it there was something else — a determination not to let go of someone she had already learned to love.
She sat down beside him heavily. For a moment, they remained silent. Tavo knew he should ask. He knew he should prepare himself for the answer. But a part of him already knew it.
"She’s hurting," she finally said quietly.
Tavo looked at her. He did not need to ask who she meant.
"Kuka..."
"She’s really hurting. I know it. I saw it in her eyes."
Tavo closed his eyes for a moment. He truly understood, but that was exactly why it was even harder.
Because he remembered Daniela’s eyes too. He remembered the moment when she had been caught stealing. He remembered how later she had tried to frame Lucia in another case involving a watch belonging to another model. He remembered every situation in which someone else had been forced to suffer the consequences of her actions, while Daniela always found a way to make someone else feel guilty.
And above all, he remembered the day he lost Kuka. He remembered the look in her eyes when she believed the lie of the girl who had accused him of trying to seduce her. He remembered how Daniela had created a situation from which there was no good way out. How a single accusation had been enough to destroy something they had spent years building.
To Kuka, Daniela was now a child afraid of losing her mother. To Tavo, she was the person who had already taken everything away from them once.
"Kuka..." he said calmly. "This is difficult. I know."
She looked at him.
"She just found out that I’m not her mother," Kuka said, as if answering the silence between them. "How am I supposed to simply tell her to leave?"
Tavo let out a quiet sigh. He had no good answer, because he knew that no logical argument could overcome what she was feeling.
"I can’t just turn my back on her after everything."
Tavo looked at her for a moment.
"She’s not your daughter anymore, Kuka."
The words sounded harsher than he intended.
Kuka looked away.
"But she was."
And those three words were enough. Because Tavo knew that, at that moment, he was no longer fighting Daniela. He was fighting a memory.
"You can hate me," he said quietly. "But I’m telling you: you have to get her out of your life as soon as possible."
Kuka looked at him with pain in her eyes.
"But I can’t just throw someone out onto the street."
And then he understood that he was no longer talking to a woman making a decision. He was talking to someone who had just had the possibility of being a mother taken away from her.
He rubbed a hand over his face. All the anger he carried toward Daniela suddenly felt out of place.
"I’m sorry."
He sighed.
"It’s always easier to give advice, but you have to make this decision yourself."
Kuka lowered her eyes. She remained still for a moment. Then she slowly stood up.
"I can’t."
It was not a challenge. It was not a refusal either. It was simply an admission of her own helplessness.
Tavo stood as well. For a moment, he only looked at her. He saw the woman with whom he had once wanted to spend his entire life. The same woman who had walked away from him because she believed a lie. The same woman who was now once again trying to save someone at the cost of her own peace.
But this time, he felt no anger, only exhaustion and sadness.
He stepped closer and embraced her. There was nothing of the old intimacy between them in that gesture. No return to what they had once been, no hidden longing left unspoken. It was the gesture of a man who saw another person falling apart and could not simply walk away.
One arm wrapped around her waist, the other rested on her neck and back, slowly stroking her in a soothing motion.
Kuka stood still for a moment, then surrendered to the gesture. She held on to him tighter, hiding her face against his shoulder. She was not looking for love. She was looking for support. For something steady in a world that had suddenly stopped being what she thought it was. Tavo stared over her shoulder.
And then the front door opened. Neither of them heard it at first.
Lucia stopped in the doorway. For the first moment, she did not even try to understand what she was seeing. Only after a few seconds did the thoughts come. Too quickly. Too painfully.
Maybe it had always been obvious. Maybe she should have known from the beginning. Maybe she was the only one who had believed that this time something was different.
She saw Tavo, and Kuka in his arms.
Everything else stopped mattering. She did not hear their conversation. She did not know that moments earlier Kuka had found out she had lost her daughter. She saw only the image. And the image was simpler than the truth.
Her first instinct was to turn around and leave before anyone noticed her. Before she saw anything else. Before she heard words that would force her to admit to herself just how much this hurt.
But Tavo had already seen her. He was facing the door, so his eyes immediately found her figure.
He saw everything in her face before she had time to hide it. First surprise. Then a question. And then something that made his chest suddenly tighten.
Pain. Quiet, unspoken pain. The kind that appears not when someone screams, but when someone stops fighting.
He did not even have time to say anything.
Lucia was already looking at him as if he had just answered a question she had never dared to ask. Her shoulders lowered slightly. That small movement told him more than any accusation ever could.
She was not angry. That would have been easier. She was suddenly very tired. And disappointed.
Over the past few days, for the first time in a long while, she had allowed herself to quietly believe that maybe she did not always have to be careful. That maybe she was not just someone who had appeared in another person’s life for a brief moment. That his gestures, his concern, his presence were not something she had received by accident, something that could be taken away from her at any moment.
And now, one image, a few seconds of silence, were enough for her to see what she had been trying not to see all along: Tavo had a past. He had connections. He had people who belonged in his life. And she was still the girl who had entered his world from the outside.
Her eyes remained on his face for one last moment. For a brief second, she hoped she would find something there that contradicted what she had seen. That she would see surprise. That she would hear him say her name. That he would take a step toward her.
But Tavo only looked at her. And that was enough.
Lucia did not know that, in that moment, he himself was frozen. That he wanted to go to her, that he was desperately trying to find words that could not be spoken in a single second. But he understood that any movement — pushing Kuka away, rushing into explanations, trying to stop Lucia — could only make the scene look even worse.
And she saw only what she had always seen whenever she was afraid the most. That it was easier for someone else to find a place beside him than it was for her.
She looked away. She did not want to ask questions or listen to explanations. She did not want to stay in a place where she suddenly felt like an intruder. She walked quickly toward her room and passed them without saying a word.
That was what hurt him the most, because Tavo saw something in her eyes that had never been there before.
Not jealousy. Not anger. Resignation.
The door closed quietly behind her before he had a chance to stop her. And he remained standing there for a moment longer, still holding Kuka, but already completely absent.
He understood that Lucia had not walked away because she did not trust him. She had walked away because she believed she had no right to stay.
And that hurt more than anything. This time, he had not lost her because of someone else’s lie. He had only lost that one moment — the moment when he could have shown her the truth.
Clearing up a misunderstanding and returning to work
The next morning, the office was only just beginning to come alive. From the hallway came the occasional voices of the models and the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Someone laughed near the reception desk, someone else was looking through photographs from the latest shoot.
But inside Tavo’s office, there was silence.
Lucia sat on the sofa, curled in on herself more than usual. Her shoulders were slightly raised, as if she were trying to protect herself from something invisible. She held her own hands, staring somewhere at the floor.
For several minutes, Tavo had been watching her discreetly from behind his desk. He knew that if he waited any longer, the conversation would only become more difficult.
He walked over and sat beside her, leaving a small space between them. For a moment, he said nothing. He knew that if he spoke too quickly, it would sound like an obligation.
And today, he did not want to be her boss. He wanted to be the person around whom she did not have to pretend.
"I thought about talking to you last night," he said finally. "I got the feeling you weren’t feeling very well."
Lucia lowered her gaze even further.
"I can’t be completely fine."
She tried to smile, but the smile never reached her eyes. She said it quietly. She did not lie. She simply allowed him to understand it differently.
It was easier to hide behind the pain caused by Federico than to admit that, since the previous evening, what hurt the most was something completely different. It was a subject she was not even ready to touch in her own thoughts.
For a while, they sat in silence.
"But you left so quickly... and then..."
Lucia lifted her head. Her expression was calm, almost emotionless.
"I didn’t want to interrupt you."
Those words hurt him more than he expected. He understood what she had seen the night before. Not the scene itself. Not the truth. Only the place she believed she had in it. She thought she had arrived at the wrong moment. That she was someone from the outside. He had allowed her to believe that.
"But you weren’t interrupting us."
Lucia did not answer because she did not believe him. And Tavo saw that.
He watched her for a moment longer, as if weighing a decision in his mind. It was not his secret. He had no right to tell someone else’s story. But he wanted even less to let Lucia live with the belief that she had seen the truth. He sighed softly.
"Kuka is going through a very difficult time right now. I know I can trust you, so I’ll tell you. Daniela isn’t Kuka’s daughter."
Lucia froze.
"Seriously?"
She frowned slightly, as if trying to fit this new information into the image she had been carrying in her mind since the previous evening.
For the first time since entering the office, a real emotion appeared on her face. The surprise was so genuine that Tavo felt an almost physical sense of relief.
He nodded.
"Yes."
For a moment, Lucia could not say anything. Her thoughts returned to the night before. To Kuka wrapped in his arms. To her own rushed judgment. She felt warmth rise to her cheeks.
"That’s horrible."
"Yes, it is painful. There’s also an inheritance involved and fraud."
Lucia slowly shook her head. She could not even imagine such a pain.
All her life, she had been afraid that someone she loved would leave suddenly, just like her father had. But it had never occurred to her that someone could discover that the person they believed was their own child had never truly been theirs.
That had to break a person’s heart.
"Poor Kuka. It must be terrible to love someone and suddenly discover that they’re a stranger. I don’t think I could survive something like that."
She fell silent for a moment.
"But who is her real daughter?"
"I don’t know."
Silence fell between them again. Tavo watched her carefully. He did not want her to understand only Kuka’s story. He wanted her to understand his place in it.
"That’s why I was with her. I was trying to comfort her, to help her, to be there for her."
Lucia looked at him for a long moment. One sentence was enough.
The image that had been returning to her over and over since the previous evening began to fall apart. The arms holding Kuka were no longer the arms of a man returning to an old love. They were the arms of a friend trying to hold together someone whose entire world had just collapsed.
She felt sudden relief. All night she had been breathing too shallowly, and only now could she finally take a full breath.
Then came embarrassment. Not because she had misunderstood the situation. Because, for several hours, she had truly believed that Tavo could so easily push her away. And yet he was the person she trusted the most.
A gentle smile appeared on her lips, and a warmth returned to her eyes — the tenderness he had missed so much since yesterday.
"You’re always ready to comfort everyone."
He watched her carefully and, for the first time, allowed himself to think that perhaps the night before had hurt her not only because of what she saw. Maybe it was because Kuka had been the one in his arms.
The thought was as beautiful as it was dangerous. He did not want to create illusions for himself. And yet, since yesterday, he had not been able to find another explanation for the emotions he had seen in her eyes.
He smiled widely, but not because he had heard a compliment. Since yesterday, he had been afraid that something between them had broken. Now he felt as if that crack was beginning to close. Lucia was looking at him the way she had before.
Suddenly, the girl cleared her throat and stood up from the sofa. She was frightened by how much relief she felt. Only moments earlier, she had been convinced that she needed to start distancing herself from him. The fact that a few simple words from him were enough to make the world feel safe again was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Excuse me, but I should go."
Tavo stood as well.
"And where do you want to go? You need to work a little. The casting is about to start."
He was not trying to force her out of her sadness. He simply knew that doing nothing allowed painful thoughts to grow faster than anything else. Work had always been the place where she could regain her balance, even if only for a moment.
She looked at him with slight embarrassment.
"I still can’t work. I only came to check in, but don’t ask me to do makeup."
"And what if I ask you really nicely?"
A hint of his old amusement appeared in his voice. He knew he should not push her. But he had seen the first real spark of life in her eyes in days. He wanted to see it again.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"No. Don’t ask me really nicely."
"Why?"
She looked directly into his eyes.
"Because then I’ll say yes."
She surprised herself with her own answer. Only moments earlier, she had felt as though she did not even have the strength for a conversation. And now she found herself responding to him almost the way she used to.
He smiled wider than he intended. In that one sentence, he heard much more than agreement to do makeup. He heard that the same light rhythm between them was still there — the one he had been so afraid of losing the night before.
For a moment, he wanted to stop the conversation right there, before life could interfere again. That was exactly the answer he had been missing.
He looked at her for a moment longer. Then he spread his hands in a gesture of exaggerated helplessness.
"All right. I won’t ask you."
He paused briefly.
"Will you come?"
Lucia shook her head in resignation. She knew she had lost this small verbal battle. And, to her own surprise, she did not mind at all.
"You know what my answer will be."
This time, she smiled for real. The laughter came to both of them almost at the same moment. It was quiet, still cautious, but it was enough for the tension of the last few hours to begin fading away.
Lucia, slightly embarrassed that she had allowed herself to be disarmed so easily, lightly punched him in the chest.
"That’s not fair."
"I know."
Tavo took half a step closer. Slowly, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbed them almost instinctively. She did not pull away.
For a moment, she did not know what to do with her own hands. Then, almost without realizing it, she placed both palms against his chest.
Their eyes met and stayed there for a long moment.
Lucia only realized after a moment where her hands were still resting. She should have moved them away. Taken a step back. Said something, anything. But she did none of those things.
Tavo did not move either. He could feel the warmth of her hands through the fabric of his shirt, and he was afraid that even the slightest movement would make this fragile moment disappear instantly.
There was no need to put anything into words. For the first time in days, there were no misunderstandings between them, no fear, no uncertainty. There was only silence — a silence in which they both remembered how natural closeness between them could feel.
Kuka’s regret and apologies
In the late afternoon, the agency was slowly emptying out. Most of the girls had already left, the phones rang less frequently, and from behind the door of Tavo’s office came only the muffled sounds of conversations in the hallway.
He was sitting at his desk, going through some documents, when the door suddenly opened. He looked up and, for a moment, did not react.
Kuka stood in the doorway. She did not look the way she used to. The confidence with which she could walk into any room and immediately take control of the situation was gone. Now she carried herself differently — more quietly, more cautiously, as if she were afraid that one wrong move could make everything fall apart again.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised.
She smiled faintly, but there was something in her eyes she could not hide.
"I came to tell you something."
Tavo put the papers aside and looked at her carefully.
"Are you feeling better?"
The question was simple, but Kuka felt that it was exactly what she needed from him. He was not asking out of curiosity or obligation. He still cared about her.
She shook her head.
"I feel deeply hurt... and ashamed."
Tavo immediately frowned.
"Kuka... but why ashamed?"
For a moment, she was silent. It was difficult to say out loud something that had been burning inside her for days.
"Because I doubted you."
Tavo looked away. Those few words were enough to bring back all those moments. They no longer hurt the way they once had, but he remembered how lost they had both been back then.
"Please, forgive me," she said softly. "You were always so good to me. You always took care of me."
Her voice began to tremble.
"We could have been so happy together, Tavo..."
The words hung between them.
He looked at her but said nothing. Not because he did not understand. Quite the opposite — because he understood too well.
He knew Kuka was speaking about something that was still alive for her. About the future they had once imagined together. About the life they could have had.
But for him, that time had already passed. That did not mean he had forgotten. There were moments when he wondered what their life might have looked like if certain things had gone differently. But the memory of the future they once dreamed about was no longer a desire. It was only a quiet sadness for something that could have existed.
"And I believed..." Her voice broke. "I believed her lies. That day, in your house. I believed Daniela."
For a moment, the office fell completely silent.
Tavo felt a pang of sadness. Not because he had lost her. That chapter had stopped being a wound a long time ago. What hurt was seeing someone he had once loved so deeply, standing before him now, carrying so much guilt.
He stepped closer.
"Kuka... it's all right. Really. It's in the past now."
To him, those were words of comfort. But to her, they sounded different, like confirmation that something had truly ended. She looked at him for a moment, searching his face for even the smallest trace of the feelings she remembered.
"If only I could turn back time..."
She raised her hand and gently placed her fingers against his lips.
"I wouldn't regret anything."
Tavo fell silent.
He looked at her with tenderness, but it was not the tenderness she was searching for. It was the warmth of someone who knew her heart, who remembered all the years they had shared and still wanted the best for her.
But it was no longer love.
Kuka looked at him as if she were trying to hold on to the last moment when she could still believe everything could be repaired.
"Believe me... I would do anything for you."
Her fingers moved from his lips to his cheek. She gently brushed it with her thumb, using a familiar gesture from years before.
And then emotion won. She did not think about the consequences. She did not wonder whether she should. She simply leaned forward and kissed him.
For the first second, Tavo responded instinctively. The surprise left him no time to pull away. Sometimes the memory of the body was faster than reason — he knew this kiss, he knew Kuka's closeness, he knew the woman he had once loved.
But then he felt the difference.
Once, that gesture had awakened longing, desire, the need to keep her beside him. Now, he felt only warmth and the familiarity of something that belonged to the past. Like the touch of a memory, not something that was still alive.
That was why he gently pulled away.
"Kuka..."
One word was enough. He did not need to explain anything. She saw it in his eyes. They were still kind, still full of concern, but they no longer held what she was searching for.
She stepped back.
"Forgive me."
"No. It's all right. Don't upset yourself."
Tavo said it quickly because the last thing he wanted was to hurt her even more.
But that was exactly what wounded her: the fact that he was kind to her, that he could not reject her with anger. Because if he had, it would have been easier to believe that something between them still remained.
"I let myself be deceived," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
She turned and walked toward the door. Tavo immediately followed.
"Kuka..."
"No, don't say anything. You don't have to."
She stopped by the door, but did not turn around right away.
"I was such a coward."
Tavo looked at her with growing concern.
Something in her voice made him stop seeing only a woman who had come to apologize. He saw someone who was falling apart under the weight of her own guilt.
"Everything happened because of my daughter..." she continued. "You and Gabriel warned me. You told me the truth, but I didn't want to listen."
She turned toward him.
"I think I'm going to die."
Tavo froze. The conversation was supposed to go completely differently. He wanted Kuka to stop blaming herself, to calm her down. But suddenly he realized her pain was much greater than he had imagined.
"Kuka..."
He still did not know what to say, because for the first time in a long while, this was no longer about their past. It was about not letting her face that suffering alone.
Kuka left before he could stop her. The door closed quietly behind her.
Tavo remained standing there for a moment, staring at it as if he expected it to open again, as if Kuka would come back, say something else, give him a chance to fix what had happened.
But she did not return.
He sighed and rested his hands against the desk. It did not hurt the way it once had. There was no desperate sense of loss that he remembered from the past. There was only the sad realization that sometimes you can love someone deeply as a person and still be unable to love them in the way they need you to.
Writing a letter to Tavo
The evening entered Lucia’s room slowly, almost as if it did not want to disturb anything, while at the same time leaving behind a silence that grew heavier with every passing moment. She lay in bed for a long time, trying to find a comfortable position, but sleep would not come. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind refused to turn off — circling the same thoughts, returning to images she could no longer push away.
Eventually, she sat up. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, and the cool air of the room touched her skin, a quiet reminder that she was alone. For a moment, she remained still, staring at her hands. Only then, almost instinctively, she raised her right hand and touched her wrist — the same place that still remembered that night, though not in a way that could easily be explained. Her fingers stayed there longer than necessary, as if she were trying to find out whether the memory was still a part of her, or if it only returned in her thoughts and nightmares.
Federico.
The image of him alone was enough to make her body tense slightly. Lucia closed her eyes, as if she could push away the weight of that evening simply by refusing to see it, but instead something else appeared.
Tavo’s voice.
Calm and low, when he had spoken to her through the chaos of that night. His presence, which had never forced its way into her space, only stopped at its edge. She remembered the way he had asked. Not once, not casually — but clearly, waiting for her answer. Whether he could lift her, whether he could come closer, whether she was all right. And every time, he had given her room to decide. Her reaction mattered more than what he wanted to do.
The arms in which she had found safety, even though she still did not know how to name it. A few days later, it had been enough for him to place his hands on her shoulders for that same sense of calm to return. Her body remembered him faster than her thoughts did. A warmth that was never overwhelming, only steady. And something else — something harder to grasp, but now clearer than ever before: the knowledge that in that moment, nothing had been taken from her. Nothing had been forced upon her.
Lucia opened her eyes, wanting to push the memory away. She tried to tell herself it was only gratitude. That after everything she had been through, every kind gesture would have seemed greater than it really was.
But the harder she tried to explain it to herself, the more clearly she felt that she was lying.
She sat motionless for several minutes. Then she turned on the lamp, reached for a sheet of paper and a pen. She did not spend much time thinking about the first sentence — she simply allowed the words to come, as if they had been waiting for a long time, only needing a place where they could finally exist.
Writing was slow. Sometimes she stopped halfway through a sentence, went back, changed a word. Not because she did not know what she wanted to say, but because every thought carried something far greater than what simple words could hold.
She smiled as the lines appeared on the page, feeling a quiet warmth spreading inside her with every new sentence.
She began with gratitude. That was what she told herself, at least. She only wanted to say thank you.
Only after several paragraphs did she realize that she had not once written what exactly she was thanking him for. She had written only about him. As if from the very beginning, she had not been trying to thank him for what he had done. As if all along, she had been trying to thank him simply for being there.
"Dear Tavo,
I am writing this letter to thank you for everything you have done for me and everything you still do. I thank God that I met you, that we are so close now, that you like me at least a little and that you take care of me.
Besides, I would never dare tell you everything I feel. I have been through such a difficult time since I lost my father, since I lost Federico. I don't want to lose you."
She looked back at the last sentence, surprised. The words she had chosen were simple, but they carried far more weight than she had expected.
"You are..."
For a moment, she could not find the words to describe what she felt.
"You are for me..."
The pen hovered above the paper. For a moment, she fought with herself. She could choose something safer.
"Very important."
"Someone close to me."
"Someone special."
But none of those words felt true. And then she wrote something that made her stop breathing for a moment.
"You are the most important person in my life."
She put the pen down. Only now did she fully understand what those words meant. She did not correct the sentence. She did not cross it out. She simply stared at it longer than she had looked at any other line.
"What happened at the waterfalls, I still carry in my heart. I would not want anyone to know about it. I would like it to remain only between us."
When she finished, she set the pen aside. For a moment, she held the paper in her hands. Then she folded it carefully and placed it on the desk beside the lamp, like something that did not yet have a place in the world.
She did not have the courage to give it to him. She did not even know if she ever would. Or whether she had the right to. But she could no longer pretend to herself that it was only a letter of thanks.
Kuka questions Tavo, who comes to realize his own feelings
The next morning, Tavo’s office was filled with a silence that was no longer the same silence as the day before. There was no tension in it, no unspoken accusations. Only the careful quiet of two people trying to return to something ordinary, even though they both knew something between them had changed forever.
Kuka sat at the desk, going through some documents. She appeared focused, but from time to time Tavo glanced at her over the papers. He could see how hard she was trying to act normal. The way she straightened her back, forced her voice to remain steady, tried to convince both him and herself that everything was already under control.
He did not believe it. He could see how much effort it took for her to pretend she was fine.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked quietly at last.
Kuka did not even look up right away.
"Life goes on," she replied with a faint smile that never reached her eyes. "If I spend the whole day complaining, everyone around me will soon find me unbearable."
Tavo put the document down.
"Kuka... you know that won't happen."
He looked at her carefully for a moment.
"Tell me how I can help you."
Those words were so unmistakably him that, for a moment, she felt that familiar warmth. That had always been one of the reasons she had loved him. Tavo had always been the kind of man who stayed. The kind of person who helped, even when he had his own problems to deal with.
She shook her head slightly.
"I know I can count on you."
She hesitated.
"More specifically... there are some things I can still rely on you for."
It did not sound like an accusation. More like a quiet attempt to accept a reality she was not yet ready to fully face.
She handed him a folder with documents. When their hands touched briefly, Tavo noticed something he had not wanted to see before.
Her hand was trembling. He gently stopped her fingers.
"You're shaking."
Kuka immediately pulled her hand away, as if that simple gesture had revealed more than she wanted him to know.
"Do you pity me?"
Tavo looked at her, surprised. "No."
His voice was calm, but firm. "I don't pity you, Kuka."
She looked away. "You know... it wasn't easy for me to come here."
For a moment, she remained silent, gathering her thoughts.
"Let's forget what happened yesterday. Everything is fine."
Tavo looked at her for a long moment. He knew it was not true. He also knew she was still trying to convince herself that it was.
Kuka saw his expression and felt a quiet pain. Not because he was cold. Quite the opposite. He was still kind. Still patient. Still worried about her. But there was something missing — something she wanted more than anything to see.
Once, she would have searched his eyes for love. Now, she was looking for even the smallest trace of regret. She found none.
"So there is another woman," she said softly.
Tavo immediately thought of a certain girl who had occupied most of his thoughts lately.
The way he looked for her whenever he walked through the agency. The way the entire day seemed brighter when she smiled. The young woman he cared for, the one he liked more than he should, the one he...
He stopped himself. Because finishing that thought sounded dangerous, even inside his own mind.
He did not answer Kuka. Not because he wanted to hide something. Simply because he could not bring himself to add another wound to the ones she was already carrying.
But his silence was enough. Kuka knew him too well. She could read every small change in his expression. She knew when he avoided an answer, when something affected him deeply, when he was trying to protect someone from the truth.
"You are in love with her, aren't you?"
Tavo remained still for a moment. Someone had finally spoken the word he had been refusing to say for so long. It echoed in his mind with a force he had not expected.
The woman he... loved.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. There was no triumph in the gesture. No relief. Only something far more personal. Admitting it to Kuka was, at the same time, admitting it to himself.
Kuka stared at him in silence. And in that moment, she understood everything. Why his kiss yesterday had not been answered. Why his arms had been warm, but not longing. Why he looked at her with tenderness, yet never tried to stop her from leaving.
She wanted to feel relieved, because at last she knew the truth. Instead, she felt something much harder to accept — the realization that the truth had left her with nothing else to hold on to.
She wondered who that woman could be. And then she remembered. A month earlier, she had come to Tavo’s new house with documents and found him in a situation that seemed to lead to only one possible conclusion.
"So you love Cecylia," she said at last, more a statement than a question. "The architect, right?"
Tavo did not answer. Because the woman who appeared before his eyes was not Cecylia.
He saw Lucia.
Her gaze beneath the waterfalls, right after the kiss. That moment when, for a few seconds, the whole world seemed simpler, and he stopped thinking about what was appropriate, what he shouldn’t do, and where all of this was leading. Her smile when she tried to hide how deeply she had been moved. Her hands on his chest that morning in his office, and how much he hadn’t wanted her to take them away. That moment when, for the first time in a long while, he felt that he didn’t have to prove anything or explain himself.
And that was when he realized Kuka was right.
There was another woman. But he still wasn’t ready to say her name out loud.
Lucia’s hesitation
Before entering the agency, Lucia stopped for a moment.
The doors were only a few steps away, and yet that day they seemed harder to cross than ever before. She stood still, one hand resting on the strap of her purse, as if that simple gesture could keep her from doing something she both wanted and feared more than anything.
Inside was the letter that, only the night before, had seemed like the only way to tell Tavo everything she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.
Now, in the light of day, the words suddenly felt too bold. Too honest. During those quiet hours of the night, she had allowed herself to write something she no longer even dared to name in the morning. Just a few months earlier, she wouldn’t have even allowed herself to think it. Now what frightened her the most wasn’t that she had written those words, but that they were true.
Lucia had almost reached the entrance when she stopped again and took the letter out of her purse. She unfolded the paper carefully and read a few lines. Her eyes stopped on one sentence.
"You are the most important person in my life."
For several seconds, she stared at the words without moving. Then she immediately folded the paper again.
"What a shame..." she whispered to herself.
Because it was true.
She put the letter back into her purse, but a moment later she took it out again. Just one more time, she wanted to make sure she had really written something like that. That she had truly allowed herself to admit how much Tavo had come to mean to her.
Every time, it ended the same way. The letter went back into her purse, and she tried to convince herself that perhaps it would be better to leave everything as it was.
Maybe it was enough to simply thank him. He didn’t need to know.
But somewhere deep inside, she already knew the truth. That letter had never been just a thank-you.
Unsuccessful attempt to deliver a letter
Later that same day, Tavo’s office was quieter than usual. Through the half-open door came the muffled voices of the girls working at the agency, the sound of the phone ringing, and the footsteps of people passing by. The ordinary rhythm of the day, something that meant nothing special to most people.
But to Lucia, everything felt slightly different.
A few hours later, she knocked softly on Tavo’s office door.
"Can I come in?"
He looked up from the documents on his desk and smiled instinctively.
"You? Always."
Lucia returned the smile, but there was something different about her. Something strangely light and, at the same time, uncertain. Several times she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, only to change her mind.
Tavo put down his pen. He watched her with growing curiosity. She nervously adjusted her hair, touched the strap of her purse, took a deep breath. He had never seen her like this before.
He couldn’t quite say what had changed. She didn’t seem sadder or happier than usual. She was somehow both at once — joyful and unsure — and there was a shy quality in her smile that he had never seen before. He had the feeling that something important had happened inside her. He knew Lucia as a girl full of energy, sometimes impulsive, sometimes lost, but always open and sincere.
This time was different.
It was as if she was carrying something within her that she hadn’t told anyone yet, something she herself was only beginning to learn not to fear.
Lucia stopped by the window, turning her back to Tavo. It was easier to gather her thoughts when she didn’t have to look into his eyes. For several minutes she had been trying to find the courage to speak. Inside her, a quiet battle was taking place between the desire to finally say something and the fear of what would happen afterward.
But every time she tried to begin, the words stopped somewhere halfway.
"Lucia?" he said softly.
She turned around. For a moment she looked at him as if this particular moment was somehow more difficult than all the ones that had come before.
"I keep thinking about what happened with Federico," she finally said.
Her voice was calm, but Tavo could hear the exhaustion hidden beneath it.
"I couldn’t sleep last night."
He immediately put the documents aside.
"Why?"
He stepped closer, just as he always did with her — slowly, giving her space.
Lucia lowered her gaze. For a moment she wanted to tell him the truth. Not about Federico, not about the nightmares, but about why she had really wanted to talk to him that day. About the letter hidden inside her purse. About the words she had written during the night, when she could no longer pretend to herself that Tavo was only someone who helped her.
But fear was stronger. It was easier to talk about the past than about a feeling that was only beginning to take shape inside her.
"Because I would have had the nightmare again."
She swallowed.
"I feel like he’s somewhere nearby. Like I can see him. Like he keeps coming back."
She fell silent for a moment.
"And it doesn’t make me feel any better."
Tavo looked at her with concern. He knew how much it had cost her just to say those words. Lucia wasn’t someone who easily showed weakness. Usually, she tried to deal with everything on her own, even when things became too difficult.
"The only thing that makes it easier..." she said more quietly, "is that I can talk to you."
He smiled warmly at her. There was something special about the fact that she allowed him to see this side of her. Not the strong Lucia, always ready to fight, but the one who sometimes simply needed someone to stay beside her.
Her trust was something he never wanted to betray.
He was used to people expecting him to help, to make decisions, to solve their problems. Lucia gave him something entirely different — she allowed him to be the person around whom she didn’t have to pretend that everything was fine.
"You know you can ask me for anything you want."
Lucia smiled too, but this time differently — shyly. Like someone who had just heard exactly what she had been waiting for. This time she didn’t look away immediately. She watched him for a moment, as if trying to memorize every detail of his face.
"Yes, I know."
For a moment she played with her fingers. She didn’t know what frightened her more: that Tavo wouldn’t understand her words, or that he would understand them too well.
The night before, she had thought writing the letter was the hardest thing she could do. Now she knew that true courage only began when she had to actually give it to him.
"But I would like to give you something, not just ask for things."
Tavo looked at her with curiosity. It wasn’t even about what she wanted to give him. What surprised him more was how much effort it seemed to take for Lucia to say those words.
Usually, she acted spontaneously, without hesitation. This time, every movement was careful, as if she were holding something incredibly fragile in her hands.
"For me?"
He smiled a little wider.
"What could it be?"
Lucia felt her heart begin to beat faster, and familiar warmth spread through her body, just like every time he looked at her that way. It was strange. It was only a piece of paper, a few words.
And yet she felt as though she was about to tell him something much bigger.
"I don’t even know if I should..."
The same smile he had noticed earlier appeared on her face — happy and slightly afraid.
Tavo watched her carefully. He knew every one of her smiles, every gesture, but this one was different. It held joy and fear at the same time.
Lucia had always been honest, sometimes even too honest, but now for the first time she looked as though she was fighting with herself. She wanted to tell him something important, and at the same time she was afraid that after those words, nothing would ever be the same again.
"Come on, tell me," he encouraged her gently. "What is it, Lucia?"
For a moment she remained silent. Then she took a breath.
"Last night I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time."
Her hand slowly moved toward her purse.
"When someone carries something inside for too long..." she said softly, "they start to feel like they can’t breathe."
Her fingers stopped on the edge of the bag. Beneath them, she felt the folded paper.
One movement was all it would take. Just take out the letter and give it to Tavo. And then she wouldn’t be able to take it back.
"I’ll tell you," she whispered.
For a moment he watched her hand resting on the purse. He didn’t know why, but suddenly he felt that whatever she was about to say could change something between them. Lucia was focused on that one small gesture in a way he had never seen before. Her fingers began to pull out the letter.
At that exact moment, the office door opened.
"Excuse me..."
They both turned. Kuka stood in the doorway.
Lucia immediately pulled her hand back. Her expression changed in an instant. Just a second earlier, she had been on the verge of doing something she had spent the entire night gathering courage to do.
Now the moment was gone. Tavo noticed it immediately and felt a wave of disappointment. Not because Kuka had walked in. But because, for the first time, he had seen Lucia ready to reveal something so deeply personal to him.
"Am I interrupting?" Kuka asked, looking at them carefully. "What happened? I can see I came at a bad time."
"No," Lucia answered quickly.
Suddenly she felt she had to leave before Kuka noticed her trembling hands or looked at the purse where the letter was still hidden.
She didn’t want anyone to see those words. Not yet. They belonged only to her and Tavo. Or perhaps, more than anything, they belonged to her — to that part of her heart she had only just dared to discover.
"I was just leaving. I have something to do."
She didn’t even look at Tavo. She walked toward the door.
For a moment, Tavo simply watched her, surprised. He wanted to stop her not because he needed an answer. It was no longer only about the words she had almost spoken. It was about that moment when, for the first time, he had seen her like this — open, uncertain, ready to offer him something.
"Lucia, wait."
His voice stopped her only for a second.
"We’ll talk later," she said quietly, and walked out.
Tavo immediately followed.
"There’s no need to run away like that..."
But it was already too late. All he saw was her back disappearing at the end of the corridor. He stood there for a moment in the doorway, feeling a strange mixture of frustration and concern. It felt as though something incredibly fragile had just slipped through his fingers.
"Tavo!"
He turned around. Kuka was looking at him seriously.
"Before you deal with personal matters, we need to take care of something."
A trace of tension immediately appeared in his voice. It wasn’t ordinary impatience. Kuka had known Tavo for too long not to notice.
Just a few minutes earlier, he had been calm, completely focused on Lucia. Now his face had closed off again, but his irritation revealed that the conversation was still affecting him.
"What?"
Kuka hesitated. She watched him for a moment more carefully. Tavo had always been a composed man, even when things became difficult. This time, his reaction had been too quick, too emotional.
And although she didn’t yet know why, for the first time she felt that something was happening between him and Lucia — something she could no longer ignore.
"Karen is crying in the dressing room. She’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble."
Tavo immediately calmed down and let out a quiet sigh.
"All right. Let’s go."
And he followed Kuka out, but his thoughts were still with the girl who, just a few minutes earlier, had been about to tell him something he suddenly realized he desperately wanted to hear.
Kuka reads a letter
Lucia came home sooner than she had planned. She did not want to return yet. Not to the empty rooms, to the silence that allowed her thoughts to come back with twice the force. But after leaving the agency, she had nowhere else to go. She was not ready to see anyone, and she did not want to answer any questions.
What hurt the most was that she had been so close. Just a few hours earlier, she had been holding the letter in her hand. She had hoped she would find the courage to take that one step. To tell Tavo something she was still afraid to admit even to herself.
And then everything disappeared. Kuka had walked in at the worst possible moment.
In the living room, she dropped her handbag onto the sofa. For a while she stood there motionless, staring at it as if she was not sure what she was supposed to do next. Then she took out the letter. The paper was slightly creased from being folded and unfolded so many times. Lucia ran her fingers over it. If only touching the page could bring back the courage she had lost.
For a moment, she wanted to tear it apart. She did not. Instead, she placed it on top of her bag and went to her room to change, hoping that for at least a little while she could stop thinking.
She did not notice that a few minutes later the front door opened again.
Kuka entered the living room lost in thought. She was still haunted by the image of Daniela. By her words and all the lies she had failed to see.
Only after a moment did she notice Lucia’s bag and the letter lying on top of it. She knew she should not pick it up. She knew it was wrong.
But something inside her made her do it. Maybe curiosity. Maybe fear. Maybe a feeling she desperately wished she did not have.
She unfolded the letter. She read the first sentences calmly. Then more slowly, until she reached the middle.
"You are the most important person in my life."
For a moment, she could not take her eyes away from those words. She understood them too well.
Not because they were obvious, but because she knew what words like that meant when they were spoken to someone who had become more than just a presence in another person's everyday life. This was not a simple thank-you. No one wrote like this to someone who was only a boss, a friend, or someone who had offered a helping hand.
And that was what hurt her the most. Because for the past few days, she had been trying to hold on to the belief that Tavo was still the same man she had known for years. Someone who had always been there, someone who belonged to her world.
And now, for the first time, she felt that maybe that world was no longer the same.
Before she could continue reading, Lucia returned to the living room. She stopped immediately. Her whole body tensed with fear.
Kuka had read her words. She had seen the thing Lucia herself had been trying so hard to hide.
Kuka lifted the page, her voice filled with hurt.
"Lucia… what is this supposed to mean?"
Lucia looked from the letter to Kuka and back again, unable to react.
"Give it back."
She walked quickly toward her and pulled the letter from her hand.
"This is mine."
Kuka stared at her for a long moment.
"Yes. I know."
There was no triumph in her voice. No anger either — not the kind Lucia had expected to hear. There was something much harder to bear. Disappointment.
Kuka had truly trusted her. She had seen her as more than just a young girl working at the agency. She had seen someone she could help, someone she could protect. And that was why it hurt so much now to feel that maybe she had failed to notice something that had been there all along.
"And that is exactly why I am asking you, Lucia… what is this declaration of love to Tavo supposed to mean?"
Lucia opened her mouth, but no words came.
"Love?"
The word echoed in her mind, louder than anything else.
It sounded too serious. Too final. Not because it was completely unfamiliar. That was precisely why it frightened her even more. She was not ready for someone else to name something she had only just begun to acknowledge herself.
"This is not a declaration of love."
Kuka let out a short laugh, but there was not a trace of amusement in it. Only exhaustion and disbelief — the reaction of someone hearing an answer they could not accept.
"No?"
Her voice came out sharper than she intended. She heard the anger in it herself, but underneath it was something far more painful — the fear that yet another thing she had trusted was slipping away from her.
She pointed at the letter.
"You are the most important person in my life."
"How do you interpret that?"
Lucia felt a sting, but not because Kuka was attacking her. It hurt because her words had landed exactly where Lucia herself was afraid to look.
She could not tell her that she was wrong. Not when only a few hours earlier Lucia had been staring at those same words written on the page, wondering whether she had the right to feel them.
But she also could not admit that Kuka was right and allow something so fragile and personal to be reduced to a simple accusation.
So she chose the one thing she was certain of.
"The letter was lying on my bag. You had no right to take it."
Kuka lowered her gaze. For a second, she looked as though she knew she had crossed a line. But then her defences returned.
"I don't know whether I had the right or not. But I have already read it."
She took a step closer. In Kuka’s mind, all the images she had previously refused to connect began falling into place.
Tavo, standing so firmly on Lucia’s side during the selection for the waterfall commercial. She remembered how she herself had had doubts, while he had not hesitated even for a moment. The way he spoke about Lucia with such certainty, as if he already knew something the others had not yet seen.
Back then, she had believed he simply recognized her talent. That he was giving a chance to someone young who truly deserved it. But now, after reading that letter, she began to wonder if she had only seen what she wanted to see.
She remembered his looks. The way his voice changed whenever he spoke to Lucia. How quickly he reacted whenever something threatened her. How naturally he allowed her to be close.
Kuka knew this world. She had seen girls who believed that beauty and the right person by their side could open every door. She had also seen men who mistook fascination for love.
She did not want to believe Tavo was one of them. She did not want to believe Lucia was one of those girls either.
But after everything that had happened with Daniela, after yet another loss she still could not accept, it was easier to believe the simplest explanation.
"You want to fly higher, don't you? No matter what it takes."
Lucia looked at her in disbelief. The accusation was so far from the truth that it almost seemed absurd, but she knew that from the outside, it might have looked that way. And the anger it caused managed to silence her own growing panic.
She knew Kuka was hurt and broken. It was obvious at first glance. Under normal circumstances, Kuka would have asked for an explanation before jumping to conclusions. That was why Lucia took a breath and tried to stop the emotional spiral before it went any further.
"Kuka, this letter is about something completely different from what you think. But I can see that there is no point explaining it to you right now. Maybe we can talk later?"
But her attempt failed. Kuka’s voice began to tremble. Because suddenly she was no longer seeing only the letter. She was seeing everything she had been trying to ignore.
Lucia that morning in Tavo’s office, confused and startled by her entrance, as if Kuka had interrupted something she was never meant to see. Tavo, who for a brief moment had looked genuinely irritated that someone had disturbed them.
She remembered their conversation about Figueres as well. The way they had stood so close. The way Tavo had immediately defended Lucia, as if her problem was his own.
And then the scene on the sofa. Lucia with her head resting against his chest. Tavo holding her with such natural ease, as if that place had belonged to her for a long time.
And their excuse about the robbery. Back then, she had found a thousand other explanations. She had told herself Lucia needed support. That Tavo was simply a good man. That after everything she had been through, the young girl was looking for someone she could trust.
But now, looking at the letter, she began filling in the blanks with things she had refused to see before. And the worst part was that a small part of her was afraid she might be right.
"No. You are driving me crazy. You live in my house, you work with me. Listen, I am going through the hardest time of my life, and you are seducing Tavo right in front of me."
Lucia wanted to answer. She wanted to tell her she was wrong. That it was not what she thought. But she looked at Kuka’s face, twisted with pain, and knew that no logical explanation would reach her now. All she could do was deny the accusations that were not true.
"No, that’s not what this is!"
Kuka did not hear her.
"I trusted you, Lucia. But now I am starting to doubt your honesty."
Those words hurt more than the accusation itself, because Kuka had been someone Lucia admired. A role model, both as a model and as a person. Despite the way their relationship had started, Lucia truly cared about her.
"Daniela was right about you."
Kuka looked away. For a moment, she did not even understand why she had said those words. Maybe because she desperately wanted something else to be true, now that the biggest lie of all — that Daniela was her daughter — had been revealed.
For a moment, she forgot that Lucia had been the only one who had never tried to hurt her. She had not confessed to a theft she did not commit, but she had not accused anyone either. She had stayed silent while others openly pointed the finger at Daniela. Even when the truth could have changed everything.
Lucia felt something inside her break.
"Of course she wasn’t."
Her voice became sharper. What hurt her was that Daniela still held so much space in Kuka’s heart. That even after everything, Kuka was willing to use Daniela’s words against someone who had truly tried to protect her.
Lucia had stayed silent about Daniela all this time. She did not want to take away the last pieces of what Kuka believed was her family. But now she felt she could no longer keep protecting someone at the cost of hurting herself.
"Daniela didn’t love you. She lied to you, didn’t she? I never accused her of anything. But now I know she isn’t your daughter, so I can."
Kuka immediately lifted her head. For a moment, she completely forgot about the letter. It was not Lucia’s answer itself that struck her the hardest. It was one sentence. Only three people knew the truth: her, Gabriel, and Tavo. No one else.
"How do you know?"
Silence filled the room. Lucia realized too late that she had revealed it by accident.
"Tavo told you?"
She looked away. She hated lying. But if she admitted it, another crack would appear between Kuka and Tavo — one she did not want to cause. Whatever was happening between her and Tavo, she had no right to betray the trust Kuka had placed in him.
"No. Not him."
A brief silence fell between them.
Lucia wanted to tell her everything. Explain that Kuka had misunderstood the letter. That she was not trying to hurt anyone. That she herself still did not fully understand what she felt. But one look at Kuka’s face was enough to know that no explanation would reach her right now.
"But there’s no point explaining anything to you now. You’re not listening."
Kuka stared at her for a long moment. The anger was still there, but underneath it was something else. Fear.
For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, she truly heard what Lucia had been trying to say. Lucia was not defending herself like someone caught in a lie. She was trying to stop a conversation that was slipping further and further out of control.
And then Kuka realized something else. If Lucia really wanted to deceive her, the easiest thing would have been to use this information against her or put all the blame on Tavo. Instead, she was doing the exact opposite. She was protecting them both, even while she herself was being accused.
For a brief moment, Kuka felt uncertain. What if she was the one who was wrong?What if the fresh pain left by Daniela had blinded her to who Lucia really was? The thought appeared only for a moment. But it was enough for anger to give way to a plea.
"I want you to explain everything to me. Don’t make me think badly of you."
Lucia tightened her grip on the letter.
For a moment, she wanted to answer calmly. She wanted to explain once again that she was not the person Kuka believed her to be. That she had not come into this house to take anyone’s place. That Tavo was not a path to success or an easier life.
But suddenly she felt exhausted. For so long, everyone had tried to tell her who she was. Federico, who had never truly seen her. Daniela, who had tried to destroy her. And now Kuka, the one person she least wanted to disappoint. For the first time, Lucia no longer had the strength to explain herself.
"I don’t care what you think of me."
Kuka flinched.
"That’s my problem."
Lucia put the crumpled letter back into her bag.
"You have no right to judge me."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Kuka said quietly:
"And you have no right to interfere in my life."
Her voice hardened again.
"I’m warning you, Lucia. Stay away from Tavo."
Lucia looked at her for a long moment.
She wanted to say that she had never wanted to take anything from her. That Tavo mattered to her not because he belonged to anyone.
But she said nothing. She turned around and went back to her room. She closed the door. Only then did she allow herself to sit on the bed and look at the crumpled page. The letter seemed even more dangerous now than before. Because it was no longer only her secret. Someone else knew.
Warning regarding Augusto Ocampo
Morning meetings at the agency were rare and usually brief. Tavo never liked those kinds of conversations. He preferred solving problems behind the scenes, before anyone had the chance to notice them.
But this time, he knew that silence would be worse than the news itself. The girls needed to know who they were dealing with before someone tried to win them over with promises he might never intend to keep.
All the models had gathered in his office. The conversations only stopped when Tavo placed the folder on the table and looked at everyone.
For a moment, he said nothing. He did not want to frighten anyone.
"I need to warn you about something important."
Several girls exchanged glances.
"Augusto Ocampo has opened his own agency."
A quiet murmur passed through the room. The fact itself was not the worst part. Competition was part of this world. What bothered him most was that Ocampo had never played fair.
He was not trying to create something better. He wanted to take away what someone else had already built.
"He has already tried talking to some of you."
He did not look at anyone in particular. He had no intention of putting Karen in an uncomfortable position.
"And he probably won’t stop there."
He rested his hands on the edge of the desk.
"I want you to understand one thing. I am not going to force anyone to stay. If any of you believe that his agency offers you better opportunities, you have every right to leave."
The room became even quieter.
"But it is my responsibility to warn you."
He paused for a moment.
"Augusto Ocampo has not had a good reputation for years. Many people in this business refuse to work with him. He is known as someone who does not respect his employees, and when they are no longer useful to him, he simply gets rid of them."
He looked at each of their faces.
"There is something else."
For a moment, he wondered whether he should say it. Then he decided he had to.
"I have no doubt that opening this agency has another purpose as well."
He sighed quietly.
"Ocampo wants to hurt me. This is not just about competition. It is personal. If he manages to weaken our agency, he will see it as his own victory."
At that moment, the door opened quietly. Kuka entered the room. She apologized with a small nod for being late and sat to the side, not interrupting Tavo.
He only looked at her for a second. Something was wrong. She was pale, tired, and strangely withdrawn. He noticed it, but said nothing.
"That’s all," he finished calmly. "I just wanted you to know the whole situation."
For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Emanuel, who was sitting closest to him, shrugged.
"Honestly, I doubt Augusto would even want to invite me."
Several girls smiled to themselves because they knew she was his ex-wife. Emanuel smiled back.
"And even if he did... I wouldn’t go to him even if I were the last model in the world."
The comment immediately eased the tension in the room.
Standing beside her, Lucia spoke next.
"I would never even think about leaving this agency."
Tavo looked at her instinctively. Their eyes met for only a second.
After yesterday’s conversation in his office, he still felt as if there was an unfinished sentence between them. She had never told him what she had come to say, and ever since then he could not stop wondering what she had been about to take out of her bag.
Suddenly, Kuka spoke.
"Lucia..."
Her voice was calm, yet something in it made Tavo turn his head immediately.
"Tavo is not only worried about you."
A short pause.
"He worries about all the girls. Especially the ones who are successful."
For a moment, Lucia felt like she could not breathe normally. The obvious irony in Kuka’s words did not surprise her. She had heard similar remarks from her since the very beginning of her time at the agency.
But for one brief second, she was afraid Kuka would not stop there. That she would tell everyone about something that was supposed to remain only between her and Tavo. That her feelings would suddenly become something public — a conversation in which she would no longer have any control.
She glanced at Tavo, but immediately looked away. She did not want him to see her fear. She did not want him to find out everything this way. She hoped that if he ever read the letter, it would happen when she herself was ready to give it to him.
Lucia gave a small nod and said nothing.
The silence that followed was heavier than all the ones before. Tavo sensed the tension immediately, even though he still did not understand where it came from.
"Well..." he said. "That’s everything I wanted to talk to you about. The decision is yours."
He smiled slightly.
"I’m only warning you one more time. Augusto Ocampo has never enjoyed the trust of people in the business world. You can get back to work."
The girls began leaving the room. Lucia was one of the first to go. For a brief moment, she had the feeling that Kuka was watching her leave. But she did not turn around.
Kuka warns Tavo about Lucia's feelings
The office was empty now. Kuka sat down at the desk and began going through the documents. She was doing it far too carefully. Tavo watched her in silence for a while. The longer he looked at her, the more certain he became that something had happened.
"Kuka..."
She looked up.
"Did something happen? Are you feeling unwell?"
"No." She answered almost immediately. "And why are you asking?"
Tavo felt that her earlier comment to Lucia had not been accidental. But he did not want that to be the starting point of their conversation, so he chose a safer subject.
"I was surprised you were late for work."
A faint smile appeared on her face. There was no warmth in it.
"You noticed?" She looked him directly in the eyes. "And what now?"
He frowned. This was not a normal answer. "What is going on?"
She put the documents down. She stared at him for a long moment, as if wondering whether she could still back away. She couldn’t.
"What is going on?" She repeated quietly, with bitter irony. "I would like to know that myself. Or ask Lucia."
Tavo froze. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Lucia? He had no idea what she meant. For a split second, he desperately searched through their recent conversations. Had he said something wrong? Had he unknowingly crossed some boundary? Or had something happened that he still knew nothing about?
"Kuka..."
"Lucia wrote you a letter."
For a moment, he just stared at her. A letter? His heart beat faster.
"Lucia wrote me a letter?"
"Yes. It was in her purse."
For a brief moment, he tried to connect the pieces: their conversation the day before, her hand reaching toward her purse, Kuka walking in, and Lucia leaving so suddenly. Slowly, everything began to make sense.
"All right..."
He spoke carefully. "Although I don’t know what was in that letter."
He looked at Kuka closely.
"But why do you think it’s any of my business?"
Kuka shook her head. She couldn’t believe he truly didn’t see it. Or maybe he was pretending not to.
"Are you really saying you haven’t noticed anything?"
He remained silent.
"The girl is in love with you."
Silence filled the room. For a brief moment, it felt as if the world had stopped.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Not because those words were completely unexpected. More because hearing them spoken aloud made them sound entirely different from all the unspoken suspicions he had carried inside himself.
He remembered her looks, her smiles, her jokes, her touch.
For a moment, he searched for the right answer and found none that wouldn’t sound false. Slowly, he nodded.
"Aha."
Kuka stared at him in disbelief. She had expected laughter, anger, a firm denial. Anything that would allow her to believe she had misunderstood the situation.
Instead, Tavo accepted the news with a strange calmness, as if it was something he himself had already considered.
"It looks like you find that flattering."
He looked away a second too late. He knew Kuka had probably noticed that brief hesitation. The truth was much more complicated. He didn’t feel satisfaction. He felt responsibility and fear for Lucia. Fear that if Kuka was right, the girl could be hurt by rumors before she had even found the courage to say anything herself.
And above all, he had no right to speak for feelings Lucia had never confessed to him.
"Tavo..."
Kuka hesitated. She no longer knew what she feared more. Hearing him say "yes" or discovering once again that everything was only a product of her own jealousy. She needed one clear answer that would finally separate assumptions from the truth.
"Is something happening between the two of you?"
He shook his head. Only then did he look directly into her eyes.
"Kuka..." He sighed. "What are you talking about?"
A barely visible trace of relief crossed Kuka’s face. She still wasn’t convinced everything was fine, but for the first time since the previous day, she felt that maybe it wasn’t too late.
If Lucia had truly only fallen in love and Tavo did not feel the same way, then she could still protect her. With time, feelings like that faded. The worst happened only when adults stopped setting boundaries.
"About what I see."
Her voice was no longer accusing. Only tired.
"She writes you letters. She looks at you that way. And whenever she has a problem, she runs to you as if you were the only person who can save her."
She paused briefly.
"And you really want me to believe you haven’t noticed anything?"
Tavo closed his eyes for a moment.
Of course he had noticed. And much more than Kuka could imagine.
Their long conversations after work. The coffee Lucia sometimes brought him something sweet with, even though she always claimed it was just a coincidence. Her hands on his temples when she tried to ease his headache.
The hardest part was that he could no longer pretend the kiss had been only a mistake. If it had been, he would have forgotten it the next day. Instead, he remembered every detail. Her expression. Her hesitation. The silence afterward.
He knew all of it. And that was exactly why he couldn’t say anything more. Agreeing with Kuka would be a betrayal of Lucia’s trust. Denying it would be a lie.
He gathered his thoughts.
"Let’s assume..." He spoke very calmly. "Let’s assume you’re right."
He looked at her.
"But did it ever occur to you that I might have nothing to do with it?"
Kuka said nothing. She knew he was telling the truth. She had never seen Tavo take advantage of any of the girls. Never.
That was not who he was. And he was not the person she was most afraid of.
She let out a heavy sigh.
"That’s exactly why I’m talking to you."
Her voice softened.
"If you really care about her..."
She stopped.
"...if you’re protecting her so much..."
She looked him straight in the eyes.
There was no jealousy there anymore. At least not the kind she wanted to admit to herself. There was only the fear of an older woman who had seen too many similar stories.
She knew, however, that her own emotions were still somewhere beneath the surface. That part of her still remembered all the moments when Tavo had looked at someone else with a tenderness she had never received from him.
That was exactly why she wanted to be fair now. She couldn’t allow her own disappointment to turn into an accusation. Lucia was not her rival. She was a young woman who had fallen in love with someone and had not yet learned where the line was between gratitude, admiration, and real love.
"You’re the one who has to stop her. Don’t let her lose her head. Don’t hurt her. Because I know how these stories end."
She paused. "They always end badly."
For the first time, Tavo felt that Kuka’s words had reached exactly the place he had been refusing to look at for a long time.
All this time, he had been telling himself that his role was to protect Lucia. That she was younger, more trusting, that the world they lived in could be cruel, and that someone had to think clearly for her when emotions clouded her judgment. But maybe that was where he had been wrong.
Because Lucia was no longer just a girl who needed someone to guide her. She was not a child who had to be protected from every disappointment. She was a woman who had the right to feel something. Even if those feelings complicated everything.
The hardest part was not that Lucia might love him. The hardest part was that he himself was no longer certain that responsibility was the only reason he wanted to protect her so much. The problem was that the line between protecting her and hurting her was becoming less and less clear with every passing day.
But none of those thoughts could be spoken aloud.
Tavo confronts Lucia about the letter
Tavo had asked Sabrina earlier to send Lucia to him after the photo shoot. Around noon, the model hesitantly pushed open the door to his office, only to find him speaking on the phone with a client.
With a questioning look, she made the universal gesture for a phone call, but he simply waved her inside. She closed the door behind her and slowly walked in, stopping in front of his desk. With her usual patience, she waited for him to finish.
The man smiled at her instinctively. Only a moment later did he realize that this smile appeared on his face every time Lucia walked into his office.
But beneath her cheerful expression, the girl was hiding all the doubts that had been tormenting her since the previous day.
"What if Kuka is right? What if everyone sees me as a foolish girl who fell in love with her boss? What if I put him in an uncomfortable position too? What if I ruin everything we have between us?"
That was why she had decided to pretend nothing had happened and keep the conversation safely focused on work.
As soon as he hung up, she asked:
"Another deal?"
Tavo was still thinking about the conversation he had just finished, as well as the threat coming from Ocampo.
"Yes."
"It looks like luck is on our side."
Every time she spoke with that kind of enthusiasm, she brought something into his life that he had been missing for a long time — the belief that even after the worst day, something good could still happen.
He stood up and walked around the desk to be closer to her.
"Yes, but I can’t relax for even a moment when my enemy wants to destroy me."
Lucia shivered slightly.
"Don’t say that. It gives me goosebumps."
"Not me. I know how to defend myself and protect myself from people like that."
Lucia looked at him with a cautious smile filled with admiration. He always knew what to do. He never backed down from difficulties.
Tavo tilted his head and studied her carefully. He didn’t want to talk about work. He wanted to talk about her feelings. Or rather, about what she intended to do with them.
He was ready to accept whatever the truth was, but he needed to hear it from her.
They remained silent for a moment before he finally asked:
"What happened?"
Lucia looked startled and shook her head.
"Nothing," she answered far too quickly.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
Tavo knew this wouldn’t be easy, but he had hoped for a little more of the honesty and openness they had always shared. That was why he pressed on.
"So you didn’t have an argument with Kuka?"
Lucia turned her head sharply, frightened. She didn’t know how much Kuka had told him or how she had presented it. Probably too much. Probably in the worst possible light.
She felt ashamed that Tavo might have believed her. She couldn’t look him in the eyes.
"She already complained to you."
Tavo stepped half a step closer, still leaving her space.
"She told me something."
Lucia looked at him from beneath her lashes. "Something" could mean anything. Suddenly another thought struck her. Tavo and Kuka had been friends for years. They had even been a couple once. She was almost certain Kuka had told him everything.
And in the letter, she had mentioned Iguazu. What if Kuka had asked about that detail? She had to know.
"But you didn’t tell her anything about Iguazu, did you?"
Tavo answered immediately, surprised by the sudden change of subject.
"Of course not."
Still looking at the floor, Lucia walked past him. Her stomach was tied in a knot, but at least she could stop worrying about that one thing.
"That’s good, because I don’t want anyone else to know."
She felt she needed to make him understand how much it mattered to her. She knew he would understand, especially after Kuka’s insinuations. She turned toward him, her expression filled with sadness.
"It’s very important to me, and I don’t want it to become something people joke about."
It hurt him that, even though she trusted him more than anyone else, she had felt the need to ask such a question. Only after a moment did he understand that it wasn’t a lack of trust. It was fear speaking for her. Not fear of her own feelings, but fear of how others would judge them.
He walked toward her and reassured her:
"It’s our secret. Why would I ever betray it? Calm down."
He raised his hand and placed it gently on her shoulder, slowly caressing it as he felt the tension in her body. Lucia was still sad and serious, but after a moment she relaxed slightly.
"Better?"
The girl smiled because his touch always had a calming effect on her. She also hoped the difficult subject was over and would soon become nothing more than a forgotten moment.
"Yes. I’m fine now."
Tavo withdrew his hand and smiled as well. He watched her carefully, considering whether he should continue the conversation. But he knew this wouldn’t disappear on its own.
"Come on. Let’s not play hide-and-seek. Are we okay?"
Yesterday she had come here determined. Today she looked as if she wanted to run away at the first difficult question. This wasn’t the same Lucia. Something had happened between last night and this morning. And he was becoming more and more certain that Kuka knew the answer.
"Yes. Why are you asking?"
Lucia clearly pretended not to understand what he meant. The tension returned immediately, and she crossed her arms in front of herself defensively.
Tavo tried another approach.
"Why? I thought you had something for me."
Lucia searched desperately for an excuse, but she couldn’t find one. After all, she herself had told him yesterday that she wanted to give him something.
The real question was: how much did Tavo know?
"Kuka told you about the letter?"
Tavo looked at her with such tenderness that her knees almost gave way.
"Yes."
She felt as if he already knew everything. And if not everything, then enough to take away her chance to tell him in her own way. The only thing she could do now was deny it. Make what he had heard from someone else disappear.
Nervously, she waved her hand. "Don’t worry about it. Forget the letter."
Tavo didn’t answer immediately.
Yesterday she had been ready to tell him something. He had seen it. Today he watched her try to destroy, with her own hands, the courage she had probably been gathering for days.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened between her and Kuka, but he could see the result.
"What if I don’t want to forget it?"
Lucia froze in surprise.
"Lucia... yesterday you came here for a reason. I don’t believe that in one night everything suddenly stopped mattering."
She lowered her gaze because she knew he was right.
"I’m not asking you to tell me anything, or to give me anything. I only want to know if what you’re saying now is what you truly feel... or what feels safer."
He was becoming better and better at recognizing the moments when she said something completely different from what she really felt.
But she had to think about the consequences. For herself and for him. Stories like this only existed in fairy tales.
Slowly, she began moving toward the door.
Tavo instinctively took a step after her, then stopped. He didn’t want to hold her back. He only wanted her not to run away from her own words.
"What happened between us... it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hurt anyone. All of it felt like a dream."
She paused. "But not everything we dream about is meant to become real."
She looked into his eyes with quiet desperation.
"Please let me keep it as a dream."
Lucia turned around quickly and left before Tavo had a chance to answer. The door closed softly behind her.
Tavo remained where he was. Only moments earlier, he had wanted to hear her answer. Now he was no longer sure whether Lucia had truly refused to give it to him.
Because she had told him everything. She just had not used the words they were both most afraid of.
He realized that perhaps the greatest confession was not the phrase "I love you", but all the sentences people say because they are trying to avoid ever having to say it.
It wasn’t just Lucia who framed the photo
Tavo came home late, when the city had already settled into that particular kind of silence in which sounds never truly disappear, but instead lose their sharpness and fade somewhere into the background. He felt neither rushed nor relieved — only something between exhaustion and a persistent thought that had refused to leave him since the moment she walked out of his office.
He did not turn on the light in the bedroom right away. For a while, he stood there in the dimness, as if he needed a few more seconds before entering that part of the day that was no longer about work or conversations.
Only then did he walk over to the bedside table.
The photograph was standing exactly where he had left it a few days earlier — Lucia with the toucan, caught in a half-smile, more natural than usual, as if for a brief moment she had forgotten everything that kept her tense. He had been the one to choose that picture from all the others. He had not thought about it for long at the time. He had simply stopped at that one a little longer than the rest, without any clear reason that would have been easy to explain.
Now, however, he picked up the frame.
He sat on the edge of the bed and for a while simply looked at it, as if only now, in that quiet position, he could allow himself something more than a quick, passing glance. The silence in the room was not empty — it felt heavier than usual, more concentrated.
He did not immediately allow himself to accept the thought that had begun taking shape inside him. At first, there were only small fragments, moments that suddenly no longer seemed neutral.
Lucia walking into his office with that careful step of hers, always checking whether she was interrupting. The way her eyes sometimes lingered on him a little too long, and other times moved away too quickly, as if she caught herself feeling something she was not entirely sure was safe. The way her hands moved when she brought him coffee — precise, yet carrying a barely noticeable tension. Everything about her was a little more controlled than it was with other people.
And that moment when she smiled. Not always freely, not always immediately, but more and more often his presence seemed to ease something inside her, even if she herself had not yet realized it.
Memory after memory began to form something he had never named before, because he had never needed to.
Only now, sitting there with the frame in his hand, did he begin to notice how often his thoughts returned to her without any obvious reason. In the morning, before he even got out of bed. In the evening, when the day was over and he was left alone with a silence that, instead of bringing rest, filled his mind with the image of her face. Even during the day, in moments that had nothing to do with her, he would suddenly catch himself wondering what she was doing, whether she was calm, whether she had withdrawn into herself more than she should.
It was not something that had appeared suddenly. It was something that had been inside him for a long time, something he simply had not allowed himself to fully acknowledge. Giving it a name would make it more real — and therefore much harder to control. And when he finally allowed the thought to surface completely, it brought something else with it — something far more uncomfortable.
Lucia did not see him only as her employer. Not only as someone who had helped her get back on her feet. There was something in her that went beyond those roles, something he had sensed in the smallest gestures, but still refused to define too clearly.
That realization did not bring relief or clarity. Quite the opposite — it loosened the boundaries he had always considered safe and made them seem far less certain than he wanted to admit.
He rested his elbows on his knees, still holding the photograph in his hand. Its weight seemed to anchor him to something that could still be called reason. Because if what he was beginning to understand was even partly true, it meant that the relationship between them had long ago stopped fitting into the simple boundaries he had tried to place around it.
And that he himself had stopped being indifferent to her long before he was willing to admit it — and that was the most dangerous part of it all.
Breaking up with Cecylia
Tavo had made his decision before he even picked up the phone. It had not been sudden or emotional. It had been growing inside him for days, ever since it had become harder and harder to pretend that everything was still the same as before.
It was not about Lucia. At least, not only about her. It was about him — about realizing that he no longer wanted to remain in something that had stopped being honest, even if from the beginning it had been meant to be casual and without commitments.
He called Cecilia and invited her for coffee in the city. He waited at the table, looking off to the side, not really focusing on the people passing by. Only when he sensed movement behind him did he turn his head slightly.
She approached without hesitation, with the same ease with which she had always entered his life. Before he could even stand up, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Tavo did not return the gesture. He did not pull away abruptly, but a subtle tension appeared in his body — something that was not rejection, but rather the uncomfortable awareness that he was in a place where he no longer truly wanted to be.
A few weeks earlier, that kiss would have felt completely natural. He would not have questioned it. He would have accepted it the same way he had accepted so many other things in his life — without asking himself whether he actually wanted them. Now, for the first time, he noticed the difference between something that felt good and something that felt real.
"You wanted to meet," Cecilia said, sitting down across from him with the faint smile that always came so effortlessly to her.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
For a while, they talked about simple things, as if they both sensed that something in the air had changed, but neither of them had given it a name yet. Finally, Tavo put down his cup and looked at her directly.
"Our arrangement..." he began, choosing his words carefully. "It was something casual. Without commitments. And that was exactly how it was supposed to work."
Cecilia raised her eyebrows, not entirely understanding where he was going.
"It does work."
"It did," he admitted. "But it doesn't anymore."
A brief silence followed.
"What does that mean?" she asked calmly, though a tension appeared in her voice that had not been there before.
Tavo let out a quiet breath.
"That I want to end it."
For a second, something like surprise appeared on her face, but it was quickly replaced by control. Pride. Withdrawal. A kind of emotional closing off.
"Just like that?" she asked more coldly. "For no reason?"
There was no anger in her voice yet. More disbelief than anything else. She had always believed that they both understood exactly what this arrangement was and what they could expect from each other. She had never asked him for more. She had never demanded promises.
That was why it was even harder for her to understand why, suddenly, he was the one drawing the line.
"It's not because something 'happened'," he answered. "It's because this is not something I want to continue being part of. Even if it was supposed to be simple."
Cecilia leaned back in her chair, watching him carefully, as if she were trying to find another version of this decision hidden somewhere in him.
"And I was supposed to be just..." She hesitated. "A phase? Between one thing and another?"
For a moment, she looked as though she herself did not know what hurt more — the answer she might receive or the fact that she had to ask the question at all.
"No," he replied immediately, without hesitation. "I never thought of you that way."
It was not an excuse or an attempt to justify himself. It was simply an effort to keep the conversation in a place where they could still be honest with each other.
Cecilia remained silent for a moment.
"Fine," she said eventually.
But the word fine did not sound like acceptance. It sounded more like an attempt to keep control over something that had not yet completely fallen apart.
She did not try to stop him. She did not create a scene. But in the way she looked at him at the end, there was something different — not resentment, not anger, but the quiet realization that she had been pushed away from something she believed was still within her reach.
Tavo felt a slight discomfort he could not immediately name. Not because he had done something wrong to her. But because, for the first time in a long while, he was certain that he was not staying in something simply because it was easier.
And when a person stops choosing what is easy, they are left alone with the question they had spent so long avoiding:
What do they truly want?
Well, Kuka, you are perceptive XD Lucia, you do have a place besides Tavo, quit your bull. Ok now I feel bad for Kuka, regarding Daniela. Nothing is working for Kuka now: no daughter, no old flame... It's interesting that as much as it's obvious for us that Tavo loves (or is starting to love) Lucia, I feel that he hasn't yet fully accepted it himself. He has just been acting on his feelings (protecting her, worrying about her, wanting to be with her) but still wonders, specially after the moment there with Kuka. Hey maybe he would look younger without the mustache.
OdpowiedzUsuńYes, I like that they grow to feelings, not rush anything.
UsuńAnd right Kuka isn't bad character here, only have worse moment as everyone has from time to time.
No, I see him without mustache and he looks... strange :)