Alternative History - Chapter 4 - Group Therapy

The next few days passed more peacefully between them than either of them had expected.

There was no long conversation, no return to what had happened in Iguazú, nor to the letter Lucia no longer wanted to give him. Yet both of them carried that unspoken conversation just beneath the surface of their everyday lives.

Lucia smiled again. She worked, laughed, and joked with the other girls, but Tavo noticed the difference. Her smile was still genuine, yet it appeared more quickly than before, as if she were trying to convince herself that everything was fine. She no longer stayed at the agency longer than necessary. She chose her words more carefully. Whenever their eyes met, something familiar would flicker between them for a brief moment before disappearing again, replaced by a safe, deliberate distance.

He didn't push her.

For the first time, he understood that wanting to protect her could not mean taking away her right to make her own choices. If he truly wanted to be someone important in her life, he had to let her decide for herself when—and how much—she wanted to tell him.

So when Sabrina told him that Lucia was waiting to see him after the photo shoot, he didn't hesitate.

A few minutes later, the two of them stepped into his office.

"Forget about the casting. What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Tavo slid the door shut, but before he could say anything else, Lucia stopped. She glanced at the closed door and immediately took a step toward it.

"Wait... I don't want to talk with the door closed. I don't want Kuka to think..."

Tavo raised an eyebrow. He noticed the reaction instantly. She was still afraid of what other people might think.

"Hold on. If you want to talk to me, we should close the door. How are we supposed to have a conversation with the door wide open?"

"It's better to talk about things like this in a whisper."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"You know, whispering doesn't look much better than talking behind closed doors."

Lucia lowered her eyes.

"It's not about our secret... it's about something completely different."

Those words made him pause.

A few days earlier, he probably would have searched them for a hidden meaning. But now he felt something entirely different—relief. He wasn't disappointed. Quite the opposite. For the first time in days, she hadn't run away from the conversation. She had come to him on her own because something mattered to her.

He gestured toward the sofa.

"Now you've got me curious. Go on—I'm listening."

They sat down beside each other, leaving a small space between them.

For a moment, Lucia stared at her hands.

Just a few days earlier, she would have been sitting there for a completely different reason. With the letter hidden in her purse, her heart pounding so hard she could barely gather her thoughts. Now she had come to talk about something else, but the fear was no less overwhelming.

She wasn't afraid that he would laugh at her. Tavo would never do that.

What she feared was that he would see her as weak. As a girl who couldn't manage her own life and once again needed someone else to guide her. Over the past few days, she had been trying to prove to everyone—and most of all to herself—that she could be strong. But the hardest thing to admit was that strength did not always mean facing everything alone.

And yet she had come to him.

Because despite everything that had happened with the letter, despite not finding the courage to tell him what she had wanted to say, she was still certain of one thing: with him, she never had to pretend that everything was all right.

"You know... I've made up my mind."

Tavo looked at her attentively, curiosity stirring inside him. Over the past few days, he had learned not to push her, but that didn't mean he had stopped wondering what was going through her head.

He could see that something had changed. That she was keeping him a little farther away, as if she were afraid of taking another step.

That was why the simple fact that she had come to him, wanting to tell him something, meant far more than she could possibly imagine.

"Made up your mind about what?"

"I was reading the newspaper, and I found out that something similar has happened to other people too... and that they're getting treatment." She took a slow breath. "So... I signed up for a support group."

For a second, he simply looked at her.

Then his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. Without thinking, he reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

"That's wonderful. Congratulations. I'm really proud of you."

Lucia smiled uncertainly. She was embarrassed to admit she was afraid. For so long, she had tried to prove to everyone that she was strong, that she could deal with everything that had happened to her on her own. And yet here she was, sitting across from him, saying exactly the opposite—that she needed someone by her side. But asking for help wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was admitting that it was his presence that made her feel safe.

"Yes... but I can't do this by myself. Do you understand?"

Tavo shook his head gently, his expression full of quiet conviction. He didn't hear weakness in her words. He heard trust.

Lucia could have asked anyone. She could have kept the whole thing to herself, the way she had for so long. She could have pretended she was fine. Instead, she had come to him.

"Lucia, you're an incredibly brave young woman..."

"No... I'm a terrible coward."

"You're wrong."

He didn't say it to comfort her. He said it as though he knew the answer better than she did. To him, courage had never meant being fearless. It meant doing something despite your fear. And that was exactly what Lucia had done.

She was frightened. She was ashamed. She still had doubts. But instead of running away again, she had taken the first step.

"When's your first meeting?"

"Today."

"What time?"

"In a little while."

For a moment, he mentally ran through his schedule. He knew he had responsibilities that would not disappear simply because he postponed them. But for the first time in a long while, none of his work seemed truly urgent. The most important thing was making sure Lucia wouldn't have to face this first step alone.

He leaned toward her. Just moments earlier, she had been worried about what people might think if they were alone behind closed doors. He wanted to ease that tension.

More than anything, he wanted her to know that he was going with her not because he had to. Not because he felt responsible for her. Simply because he wanted to be there.

"You know," he said with a playful smile, "when we're alone, and the door is closed... I'll tell you a secret."

She looked up at him.

"I'd be happy to go with you."

Lucia closed her eyes and broke into the widest smile he had seen in days. For the first time in a long while, she looked like herself again—without fear, without constantly questioning whether she was doing something wrong.

A wave of relief washed over, surprising even her.

The problem hadn't disappeared. She was still afraid. She still had no idea what awaited her. But for the first time in days, she no longer felt that everything rested solely on her shoulders.

Tavo hadn't asked why she wasn't stronger. He hadn't judged her. He had simply stayed.

She stood up immediately.

"I'd love that!"

Tavo rose as well, a little surprised by how quickly she answered. He had expected to persuade her. He had expected more objections, more reasons why she shouldn't let him come, more excuses for why she had to face it alone. Instead, all she had needed was the certainty that she wouldn't be by herself.

"Really? I thought you'd say no."

She shrugged. She didn't quite know why she could tell him things she had never been able to tell anyone else. Tavo had that rare gift of making even the most painful confessions feel like nothing to be ashamed of.

"I already told you... I'm terrified, dying from fear."

He stepped closer and rested his hands gently on her shoulders.

He had missed this smile over the past few days. Not the one she showed everyone at the agency—the professional, confident one. The real smile. The one that appeared only when she stopped guarding herself.

"But you're not dying, Lucia," he said softly. "You're very much alive."

He smiled.

"Shall we go?"

This time she didn't hesitate.

She placed her hands against his chest and leaned on him with her whole body. She didn't stop to wonder whether it was appropriate. She didn't think about what anyone might see if they walked into the office. For one brief moment, she wasn't the girl who had to control everything and weigh every step. She was simply Lucia, feeling that someone was standing beside her when she needed it most.

For days, Tavo had been watching every gesture, every word, as though the slightest movement might hurt her. But this wasn't a gesture he needed to fear. She wasn't asking him for something impossible. She wasn't expecting him to solve her entire life. For just a moment, she simply wanted to feel that she wasn't alone.

"Let's go!"

Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening.

"Excuse me..."

The secretary stopped in the doorway. Tavo and Lucia pulled slightly apart, but it was already too late. Sabrina had seen enough.

Lucia immediately stiffened. Only moments earlier she had felt calm and happy. Now Kuka's warnings came rushing back.

Tavo, however, did not step away abruptly. He kept one arm lightly around her waist, giving her the time to decide for herself when she wanted to move away.

"Tavo, Mr Mendez called. He asked you to call him back about the photo shoot."

"I'll return his call this afternoon," Tavo replied. "But I need to step out for a while first."

This time, fear only flickered through Lucia for a moment.

Once, a single glance, a single remark, a single insinuation would have been enough to make her retreat again. But now she had something stronger than fear beside - her own decision.

For the first time in a long while, she wasn't going because someone had to rescue her. She was going because she had decided she wanted to fight for herself. And he was simply going to be there beside her.

--------------

They arrived a few minutes before the meeting was due to begin. The building was nothing remarkable—a modest old townhouse on a quiet street, with a small plaque beside the entrance. Inside, a deep silence hung in the air, somehow making Lucia's anxiety even stronger.

As soon as they stepped into the room, she noticed the chairs arranged in a circle. There were only a handful of them, perhaps a dozen. All of them empty.

She stopped in the doorway and simply stared.

Until recently, she'd believed that making the decision would be the hardest part. That once she'd signed up for the meeting, the worst of her fear would be behind her. But now, standing in the empty room, she became more aware with every passing second of what she had actually committed herself to.

She was about to sit among complete strangers and speak about something she hadn't even been able to admit to herself for so long.

"Tavo... there's no one here. Maybe it's not today after all... Should we go?"

He recognized the note in her voice immediately. The date wasn't wrong. At the very last moment, Lucia was trying to postpone the one meeting she desperately needed. Tavo looked at her calmly.

"No."

He didn't say it harshly. He wasn't trying to force her. He simply wanted her to hear something in his voice that she couldn't find in herself at that moment—certainty.

"Don't be afraid. They'll help you here. The most important thing is not to let yourself worry. I'm with you."

Lucia lowered her eyes.

"Tavo... I'm ashamed. What am I supposed to tell them?"

He was silent for a moment. He knew it wasn't really about the words. Lucia had spent her whole life hiding the things that hurt the most. She smiled even when she was suffering. She pretended she was fine even when she was falling apart inside.

Now she had to do the exact opposite. She had to admit that she needed help.

"The truth," he said at last. "Nothing but the truth."

She looked at him uncertainly. Tavo gave her a faint smile.

"Come on, Lucia. Where's that strength of yours? Where's the courage that brought you all the way from your hometown to Buenos Aires?"

For an instant, something changed in her face. As though remembering the girl she'd once been was both comforting and painful at the same time.

"Federico took it away."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"He took everything with him. Even my hope disappeared."

Tavo watched her quietly.

He didn't want to deny what she was feeling. He knew Federico really had taken so much from her—her confidence, her peace of mind, her belief that she could trust someone again. But if he'd truly taken everything, she wouldn't be standing here now.

"No," he said gently. "It's all still with you."

Lucia looked at him as though she wanted to argue, but the words never came.

Just then, they heard footsteps in the hallway. A woman in her forties entered the room, wearing a warm, reassuring smile.

"Hello. How are you? My name is Elvira."

Tavo turned toward her.

"Thank you, I'm fine. I'm Tavo Herrera."

The woman nodded before turning to Lucia.

"And what's your name?"

Lucia hesitated for a moment, as if even introducing herself required courage.

"Lucia."

"It's nice to meet you. You're the first one here."

The young woman smiled shyly.

Tavo looked at her. He knew it was time for him to leave. This was her place. Her first step. If he stayed, she might feel safer—but she would never discover that she was capable of doing this on her own.

"I should go."

Lucia looked at him immediately. There was something in her eyes she didn't even try to hide anymore—uncertainty.

A dull ache tightened in Tavo's chest. A few weeks ago, he probably would have done anything to make that fear disappear. But now he understood that he couldn't shield her from every difficult moment. All he could do was make sure she knew that someone would be waiting for her on the other side.

"I'll see you later, all right?"

Lucia nodded, though she still looked as if she needed one more reassurance.

Tavo stepped over to her. He wrapped his arms around her in a brief, quiet embrace, without saying a word. Then he leaned down and gently kissed the top of her hair.

It was a simple gesture. It didn't promise that everything would be easy. Only that she wasn't alone.

"You'll be all right," he said softly.

Only then did he let go and walk away.

Out in the hallway, he lingered outside the door for a moment. He wanted to go back. To tell her that everything would be ok, that she didn't have to be afraid. That she could leave if she wanted to.

But he stopped himself. Because this time, the greatest thing he could give her wasn't the certainty that someone would protect her. It was the confidence that she was strong enough to take the next step on her own.

Lucia watched him until he disappeared from sight. Then, slowly, she crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs.

----------------

Tavo was waiting beside the car. He hadn't driven away—not even for a moment. He didn't want Lucia to be thrown straight back into everyday life after her first meeting, before she'd had the chance to make sense of what she was feeling.

The moment he saw her stepping out of the building, he straightened and walked toward her. Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he searched her face.

She looked serious. Not unhappy, but not at peace either.

"So? How did it go? How are you feeling?"

Lucia gave a small shrug.

She didn't want to say the meeting had gone badly. It hadn't. That was precisely why she couldn't find the right words. For so long, she'd imagined this day as something terrifying. Yet now she realized that the weight she'd been carrying hadn't simply vanished the moment she walked through those doors.

She was still carrying it. Only now, she wasn't carrying it alone.

"So-so."

Tavo frowned slightly. He hadn't expected enthusiasm, but he'd hoped she'd feel at least a little relief. Instead, all he heard in her voice was uncertainty. He knew that tone well. Whenever Lucia met someone whose suffering seemed greater than her own, she always diminished her own pain.

"Why?"

She was quiet for a moment.

"Today I was just supposed to listen to the other women's stories."

Her gaze drifted away.

"I heard things... things that made my own problems seem so small. One woman told us about her life..." She shook her head faintly. "It was a nightmare."

Tavo listened without interrupting.

"Maybe that's what will help you see your own struggles from a different perspective. Maybe it'll help you realize you're not the only person who has to go through something like this."

Lucia nodded.

"That woman isn't just fighting for herself. She's fighting to save her children's lives."

She looked at him, wanting him to understand why she couldn't simply say, It went well.

For the first time, she'd seen that suffering didn't belong to her alone. Other people were fighting battles too. And instead of bringing relief, that realization had left her feeling even more lost.

"Do you understand?"

"I do."

He was silent for a moment. He didn't want to say anything that sounded like empty reassurance or suggest that she had no right to suffer. Her pain was real.

But he also knew that for far too long, Lucia had been seeing herself through Federico's eyes—as someone who wasn't enough, someone weak, someone who needed to be fixed.

He couldn't let her go on believing that.

"But you have to start fighting too."

Lucia lowered her eyes.

Fight.

The word felt strangely foreign. For weeks, she'd been fighting only to survive—to get through one more day, one more memory, one more moment when everything came rushing back. It had never occurred to her that she could fight not against someone...but for herself.

"So that you can believe in yourself again."

His words struck the place that hurt the most. Federico was no longer her greatest enemy. Neither was her past. The real problem was that Lucia had stopped believing she was strong enough.

Tavo noticed the way her head had dropped. Gently, he slipped his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face until she was looking at him again.

"Promise me."

For a long moment, she simply looked into his eyes. She wasn't sure she could do it yet. But she knew she wanted to try. A faint smile appeared on her lips.

"I promise."

Tavo drew her close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He didn't feel satisfied because he'd persuaded her. What he felt was something entirely different.

Pride.

Because it was her who had taken that first step.

After a moment, they slowly pulled away from each other, and Lucia looked at him.

"Tavo..."

"Yes?"

"I'll have to come here once a week."

He nodded.

"That's good."

"I mean... you don't have to come with me every time..."

"I know."

He interrupted her gently, before she could come up with more reasons.

"I know, Lucia. I also know that you can come here by yourself. And that's exactly why I want to be here."

She looked at him, surprised. "You don't think I can handle it?"

Tavo shook his head. "No. I know perfectly well that you can."

Lucia wanted to protest, but he gave her a small smile.

"And I'll wait for you until you're done."

"Tavo..."

"I know I don't have to." He said it calmly. "But I want to."

For a moment, Lucia said nothing.

Not long ago, words like that would have made her feel burdened by gratitude and guilt. Now, for the first time, she was able to accept them differently.

Not as someone coming to save her. As someone choosing to stay. And maybe that was what she had needed most all along.

----------------

A few days later, Lucia arrived at the agency earlier than usual.

The kitchen was still wrapped in the quiet half-light of morning. The sun had only just begun to filter through the windows, spilling softly across the countertops. On one of them sat a box filled with cookies she had baked at home the night before.

For a moment, she simply stood there, looking at them, wondering whether she was crossing some invisible line.

Then she began placing them onto a plate. One by one, carefully, with almost exaggerated precision, as if the rhythm of her movements could determine whether the decision still felt like the right one.

The cookies arranged themselves neatly. But inside her, nothing felt quite so simple.

When she finished, she took a deeper breath and headed toward the office.

----------------

She entered the office carrying the tray without giving herself much time to reconsider. She assumed she would find only Tavo there.

But he wasn't alone.

Tavo was sitting behind his desk, leaning over some documents, while Kuka stood beside him. They were both working, analyzing something, speaking in low voices, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation that had been going on for some time.

Lucia felt a brief hesitation, but she continued inside.

"Hi," she said, trying to make her voice sound casual.

Tavo looked up first. Kuka followed a moment later.

"Hi. And what’s this?" Kuka asked when Lucia came closer. Her eyes immediately went to the tray and the plate of sweets.

"Cookies," Lucia answered, a little faster than she had intended.

Kuka raised an eyebrow, her irony obvious. "I can see that. I’m asking what the occasion is."

Lucia felt warmth rise to her cheeks.

"No occasion," she said immediately. Too instinctively. "I baked them yesterday. For everyone... I mean, I left some at home for the girls and for you, and I brought these here for Facundo, the stylists, and the rest of the team."

The longer she spoke, the more her own words sounded like something she was trying to justify after the fact.

Kuka looked at her with a hint of amusement but didn't comment further. Instead, she reached for one of the cookies.

"Fine, let's call it ‘no occasion’," she murmured, but she considered the model more carefully.

Lucia was still the same girl who could worry about the smallest gesture, but something had changed. As if, for the first time in a long while, she wasn't apologizing for simply having feelings.

At that moment, Facundo appeared in the doorway, already holding one cookie in his hand and another half-eaten.

"Do you know who made these miracles?" he asked with his mouth full, walking into the office without ceremony.

Lucia turned toward him quickly.

"I did. No occasion," she repeated.

Facundo smiled broadly, as if someone had just confirmed the most important piece of information of the day.

"Well, then I'm officially a fan of this ‘no occasion’ thing."

A calmer silence settled over the office for a moment, broken only by Facundo's carefree chewing as he had already gone back to eating, as if the world had naturally narrowed down to a cookie and a cup of coffee.

Throughout the entire exchange, Tavo hadn't said a word. Not because he had nothing to say, nor because the situation didn't concern him. Rather, because he was watching her with a kind of attention that didn't need words.

His gaze remained on Lucia—not on the tray, not on the conversation, not on the small commotion around them—but on her. There was calmness in his expression, but also something more focused, as though he was noticing every gesture, every instinctive reaction that appeared before she had a chance to hide it.

Lucia noticed only after a moment. First as a slight tension in her neck. Then as the realization that the air between them had somehow changed.

She lifted her eyes to him and she didn't look away.

Tavo was still watching her. And there was nothing in that look that needed to be explained. Because he knew who those cookies were really for. She didn't have to tell him.

She didn't have to admit that before entering the office, she had wondered several times whether she should. That every single cookie carried a meaning far greater than she wanted to show.

Tavo saw all of it in her eyes.

----------------

Lucia had no intention of eavesdropping. In fact, she did not even know there was anyone talking in the living room. She had only left her room to get a glass of water from the kitchen. But as she walked down the hallway, she slowed down when she heard voices coming from the living room and stopped.

She truly meant to walk away immediately, but something inside her told her to stay.

"Kuka, you can’t give up," Augustine said in a calm, gentle voice. "If you want to find your daughter, you have to explore every possibility."

"I’ve tried so many times..." Kuka replied quietly. "So many years have passed."

Lucia froze, because there was so much pain in Kuka’s voice — pain she could no longer hide.

"Maybe you should start with the hospital," Augustine suggested. "There should be records there. If you gave birth to a daughter, there must have been some trace."

For a moment, there was silence. It lasted so long that Lucia thought the conversation was over.

"I didn’t give birth in a hospital," Kuka finally said.

Lucia felt a sudden flicker of surprise. Not because the information itself meant anything particular to her, but because the conversation had suddenly taken on an even more mysterious tone.

"What do you mean?"

"I gave birth to her at a woman’s house in San Ignacio."

Lucia raised her eyebrows slightly.

San Ignacio.

Buenos Aires was enormous. Thousands of people came there from all over the country. The fact that someone from San Ignacio lived in the capital was nothing unusual. And yet, that one word was enough to send her thoughts in a completely different direction.

San Ignacio was a small town. Everyone more or less knew one another, and the school was one of those places where people’s paths crossed every single day. Lucia had graduated from the Escuela Provincial de Educación Técnica — a school that combined vocational training with technical education. She had chosen the sewing class, as if from the very beginning she had been destined to stay close to the world she had known at home through her mother.

But there were other schools in town as well. The Escuela Normal Superior Nº 5 "Fray Mamerto Esquiú," a more prestigious institution that prepared young people for further education, and the Escuela de Familia Agrícola, chosen mainly by those connected with agriculture and life outside the city.

Kuka’s daughter was her age, from the same generation, but she could have studied at any one of them. She could have sat beside Lucia on the bus, walked down the same streets, passed her every day without either of them knowing.

Faces of former classmates began appearing in Lucia’s mind one after another, but none of them resembled Kuka.

She quietly stepped away before anyone could notice her. This was not her story.

----------------

A few hours later, Lucia ran into Augustine in the kitchen.

The conversation began completely casually. Lucia had no intention of returning to what she had overheard earlier, but her curiosity turned out to be stronger.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

For a moment, she searched for the right words.

"I heard earlier that Kuka gave birth to a daughter in San Ignacio."

Augustine looked at her more closely.

"Yes."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"That's strange..." Lucia gave a faint smile. "Buenos Aires feels so enormous, and yet sometimes all it takes is one small place to suddenly connect people who were never supposed to meet."

"You're right. The world can be surprisingly small."

Augustine looked at her with interest.

"You know... my family also had distant relatives there."

Lucia looked at her in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes. One of my mother's cousins lived in San Ignacio. But I didn't know him very well. I think I only saw him twice in my entire life."

"Really? What was his name?"

Augustine thought for a moment.

"Arturo Argelio."

The surname struck Lucia immediately.  Not because it was unfamiliar. Quite the opposite.

For a moment, images she had spent years trying not to remember came rushing back. The dust of the road. The screams. The fear. Her father's face. That day when, as a little girl, she had witnessed something no child should ever have to see.

But she didn't say anything at first.

"As for me... I had the misfortune of knowing him more closely than anyone ever should have."

Augustine looked at her with concern. "Really? What do you mean?"

Lucia lowered her eyes and remained silent for a moment. She hated returning to those memories. Even after all these years, the words still felt too heavy.

"He was the one who ordered my father's death."

Augustine went pale. "Lucia..."

The girl looked away. "I was eight years old. And I saw everything."

She didn't need to explain anything else.

Augustine stared at her, unable to hide her disbelief and compassion. She wrapped her arms around her and held her tightly.

Only now did she understand that behind her friend's calm smile was a story that most people would never have been able to tell.

And for the first time in a long while, Lucia felt that she could tell someone the truth. Not all of it yet. But enough for someone to finally understand.

------------------

In the afternoon, there was hardly anyone left at the agency. That was why Emanuel was surprised when the front door opened and a young man wearing a leather motorcycle jacket walked in.

He looked around with curiosity, as if he were seeing a place like this for the first time, but he didn’t seem intimidated. Quite the opposite — there was an effortless confidence about him, the kind that belonged to someone who rarely worried about the impression he made on others.

"Hi," he greeted her with a smile. "Is Lucia here?"

"She is. Wait a moment, I’ll go get her."

The model headed toward the dressing room, calling out loudly along the way.

"Lucia! Someone’s here to see you!"

Her voice echoed throughout the agency.

In his office, Tavo had just finished reviewing the budget for another advertising campaign. A few numbers didn’t match his previous calculations, so it took him a second before the name caught his attention.

Lucia.

He put the pen down instinctively, not because he was particularly curious. Over the past few weeks, he had caught himself more and more often noticing that every time her name was spoken somewhere in the office, he automatically listened for what came next.

He stepped out of his office.

In the reception area stood a stranger. A tall blond man with longer hair, probably in his twenties, with a bright gaze and a genuine smile. The motorcycle jacket immediately revealed his passion.

When he noticed Tavo, he greeted him right away. "Hi. I came to see Lucia."

Tavo nodded. "Hi. Yes, I heard."

He looked at him more carefully. He didn’t look like a photographer or a client. And he certainly didn’t seem like anyone from the modelling industry.

"Is something wrong?"

Mattias shook his head. A smile appeared on his face. "Nothing bad. I wanted to invite her to a motorcycle race."

That was the last thing Tavo expected. He raised his eyebrows slightly, which made the young man immediately start explaining.

"I ride motorcycles."

Tavo leaned more casually against the reception desk. He hadn’t been prepared for this kind of encounter.

Over the past few weeks, he had become accustomed to difficult conversations, problems, and situations where he had to remain in control. This young man with a motorcycle and an honest smile, however, was an entirely different kind of challenge.

He didn’t look like someone who had come to gain something. He looked like someone who simply wanted to see Lucia. And that simplicity was oddly amusing.

"Do you even know if Lucia likes motorcycles?"

Mattias laughed. "I have no idea." For a moment, he looked as though he had only just realized that he had actually never asked her about motorcycles.

But apparently, that wasn’t what mattered most to him. The race itself was clearly not the main reason behind the invitation. Mattias simply wanted to see her. There was something almost childishly sincere about it, completely free of calculation. Lucia was different from the girls he had known before — less interested in impressing people, more focused on simply being herself.

"But what I like most is Lucia."

The sincerity with which he said it was so completely unpretentious that Tavo couldn’t help but laugh.

It wasn’t the laugh of someone touched by jealousy. It was more the reaction of a man who had just met an exceptionally straightforward young man. There was no game behind it. No attempt to show off. Mattias seemed like someone who had never learned the meaning of diplomacy.

And that was when Lucia appeared from the hallway. She stopped near the reception desk, clearly surprised by the visitor.

"Mattias?"

He turned around immediately. A wide smile spread across his face.

"Hi!"

He walked toward her energetically and, before she had time to react, leaned down and kissed her cheek in greeting.

"How are you?"

For a fraction of a second, Lucia froze. It lasted so briefly that most people would never have noticed. But Tavo had already learned to recognize her smallest gestures. It wasn’t fear. It was more the kind of caution that appeared whenever someone entered her personal space too quickly.

Lucia could be warm and open, but only when she chose the moment herself. He knew that reaction by now. Over time, he had begun to understand that her distance did not mean coldness. It was the instinct of someone who, for a long time, had needed to be careful about whom she allowed to get close.

Her boundaries were not a wall to be broken down. They were something to be respected. Mattias clearly didn’t realize that.

"Good..." she answered. "And you?"

"Great," he replied immediately, as if simply seeing her there was already enough to put him in a good mood. "I thought I’d catch you during a photoshoot. They told me you were here."

"Yes..." She answered briefly, still a little surprised by his sudden appearance.

Mattias had always carried that kind of endless energy that once might have seemed amusing to her. But she was no longer the same girl who used to let other people make decisions for her without hesitation. Maybe that was exactly why spontaneous gestures could still catch her off guard.

She didn’t want to be rude, so she gave him a small smile and asked the simplest question that came to mind.

"How have you been?"

"I came to invite you to a motorcycle race."

Lucia instinctively slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. It was one of those small gestures she was barely aware of. It always appeared when she felt slightly uncomfortable or wasn't sure how to react. She glanced uncertainly at Tavo, who stood to the side, watching them carefully.

Mattias smiled with childlike enthusiasm.

"On Sunday I'm racing. Will you come?"

Lucia didn't answer immediately.

Motorcycle races. She had never been to one before. Motorcycles had always been associated more with noise than with enjoyment. Still, the invitation itself was nice. What surprised her more than the race was the simple fact that someone just wanted to spend time with her.

Without thinking, she looked at Tavo again. A few weeks earlier, she probably would have searched his face for an answer, wondering whether she should agree. Now it wasn't about permission. It was something much more subtle.

She wanted to know what he thought.

Tavo held her gaze calmly. He didn't try to influence her, didn't encourage her, didn't discourage her. Over time, he had learned that caring about someone didn't mean taking away their right to make their own choices.

And that was exactly why he said nothing.

After a moment, he noticed the tension slowly disappearing from her face. She smiled—not uncertainly this time, but genuinely.

"Yes... I think I'll come."

Mattias lit up even more. "Great! Then I'll see you on Sunday!"

For the second time, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

This time Lucia was prepared for it. She returned the smile politely, but the moment he turned toward the exit, she instinctively wrinkled her nose and wiped her cheek with her sleeve. The gesture was so spontaneous that she didn't even realize she'd done it.

But Tavo noticed. And he felt something inside him unexpectedly relax.

For several minutes, he had watched the two of them, trying to understand what exactly he was seeing. Not a rival. Not the beginning of some new feeling. He saw a girl who politely accepted someone's affection, but who never once lost her natural self in the process.

Mattias had already taken two steps toward the door when he suddenly stopped and turned around.

"Oh..." He looked at Tavo. "Sorry."

Tavo raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I didn't invite you."

Lucia immediately sensed that this wasn't over yet. Mattias smiled innocently.

"Because things like that probably aren't very interesting... at your age. But if you want to come too, you're welcome."

For a second, silence filled the reception area.

Lucia immediately turned slightly away from both men and pressed her lips together. She really tried to keep a straight face, but her shoulders began to shake. The harder she tried to control herself, the worse it became.

Tavo first glanced briefly at Mattias, then looked longer at Lucia, who stood with her back turned and was clearly engaged in a desperate battle against her own laughter.

At first, he simply smiled politely. But after a moment, he realized the girl was genuinely barely holding herself together. So he adopted the most serious expression he could manage.

"Thank you for the invitation." He paused briefly. "If they pay out my retirement on time, I’d be happy to come."

Mattias burst out laughing. "Great! See you on Sunday! Take care!" The door closed behind him.

For a moment, silence returned to the reception area. They looked at each other at the same time.

Lucia’s shoulders were still trembling slightly. Finally, she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and a quiet giggle escaped between her pressed lips.

At first, Tavo fought his own smile, but after a moment his expression became more serious. For the first time in a long while, the joke that had amused him only seconds earlier touched something more personal.

It wasn’t the age difference itself. He knew who he was and how old he was. That wasn’t what made him feel uncertain. It was the fact that someone had casually put a name to something he himself had been unwilling to acknowledge for a long time.

He knew Lucia had become someone whose presence could change the course of his day. Someone whose opinion mattered to him more than it should. Something he himself sometimes tried not to think about.

Without saying a word, he turned and walked back toward his office. This time, he didn’t even close the door behind him.

Lucia gave him a few seconds while she unsuccessfully tried to regain her composure. At first, she found it amusing that Tavo was trying to pretend he was completely unaffected.

But he reminded her less of a man who was indifferent and more of someone who, for the first time in a long while, was allowing himself to show that something truly mattered to him.

And maybe that was what touched her the most. Tavo Herrera — the man who always had control over every situation — had just revealed a tiny hint of jealousy. And the strange thing was... She didn’t mind it at all. Quite the opposite.

Lucia had never looked at Tavo through the perspective of his age. She saw a man who made her feel safe, heard, and important. A man who never treated her like a child, but as someone equal to him.

Only moments earlier, she had laughed so freely that she had surprised even herself. The past few weeks had taught her caution. She watched her words, her gestures, her expressions. She had spent too long believing that one wrong move could complicate everything.

And now she was standing in the middle of the agency, laughing with Tavo. The same man she had once been afraid to tell she needed help from. That realization felt strangely comforting.

Still smiling, she walked toward his office. The door was slightly open, so she didn’t need to knock.

Tavo stood by his desk with a sour expression, going through documents as if he had suddenly remembered an extremely important matter that required his complete attention.

"Tavo..."

He turned toward her with a grimace. "What else?"

His tone was serious, but he couldn’t hide the slight exaggeration in it. He shook his head, though this time a clearer smile appeared.

For a moment, there was a lightness between them that had been missing for weeks. No difficult conversations. No tension. No subjects that required careful handling. Just them.

Lucia watched him for a moment.

A few months ago, she probably would have kept this moment to herself. She would have decided she shouldn’t interrupt him or that she might say something at the wrong time. But now she walked into his office without hesitation, grinning.

Then she immediately became serious again, remembering what she had wanted to talk to him about in the first place.

"Yes. I need to tell you something."

He didn’t look at her. For a second, he thought it really was about Mattias. And to his own surprise, he felt a small flicker of irritation. Not because the boy bothered him. He barely knew him. It was more because he remembered too well the feeling he had when he first saw someone else making Lucia laugh.

The change in her voice made him immediately become serious. He put the documents aside.

"Go on. I’m listening."

Lucia stood opposite his desk but didn’t start speaking right away. For a moment, she gathered her thoughts.

"I don’t really like spreading rumors, but I think you should know about this."

Tavo gave a half-smile and nodded toward the door. "Something about that boy?"

Lucia smiled slightly. For a moment, it amused her that Tavo was still trying to pretend complete indifference. He wasn’t jealous in a way that could hurt her. He seemed more like a man who was, for the first time, allowing himself to admit that something truly mattered to him.

At the same time, she didn’t want him to misunderstand. Mattias was nice, but that was all.

"No, it’s not about him. I mean Claudia."

That was enough to immediately change his expression.

Lucia noticed it. She had always been fascinated by how quickly he could move from joking to complete focus. As if, in a single moment, he put everything else aside and directed all his attention toward the problem.

"What’s happening with her?"

Lucia was genuinely worried about her friend.

"She told me that Ocampo offered her a photo shoot."

For a second, he said nothing. He didn’t look surprised. It was almost as if he had just received confirmation of something he had already suspected.

"I understand. You don’t need to say anything else. It’s for the cream advertisement, isn’t it?"

Lucia nodded. "That’s what I think. Diego recommended her, and besides, she doesn’t get along with Marie Asul."

Tavo let out a quiet sigh. "Yes, I know."

Lucia watched his reaction.

A few weeks earlier, she probably would have thought her information wasn’t important enough. That she shouldn’t bother him with matters involving other people.

But now she saw something different. He was truly listening.

"I’m becoming more and more convinced that Ocampo is a bad person."

Tavo looked at her.

He didn’t answer immediately because he had already learned that Lucia trusted her emotions very quickly. She was sensitive, and because of that, she often saw people through the pain they caused others rather than through pure calculation. But this time, her intuition was probably right.

He sighed and reached for the phone.

Lucia asked anxiously: "What are you going to do?"

Tavo dialed the number. "If he’s playing dirty games with us, we could do the same."

He said it calmly, without anger. And that was precisely what made it sound even more determined.

Lucia watched him silently.

The first words of the conversation immediately showed her why Tavo was so effective. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t try to intimidate anyone. He simply guided the conversation as if the outcome was already inevitable.

Perhaps she should have left and not listened to a confidential negotiation, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. His confidence was captivating.

Tavo glanced at Lucia.

He didn’t want her to see the tension on his face. He felt the pressure perfectly well. He knew Ocampo was not an opponent who could be underestimated, and for Claudia this photo shoot wasn’t just another job. It was proof that they could still compete, that their agency still mattered.

But above all, he knew Lucia was watching. And there was something in her gaze that affected him deeply. Admiration.

"Yes, I know about Ocampo’s offer," he said after a moment.

Lucia raised her eyebrows slightly. She hadn’t expected him to admit it so openly.

Tavo looked at her and noticed her reaction. The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. A short pause.

"I have a very well-developed information network."

At that moment, he looked meaningfully at Lucia. He trusted her completely and was grateful that she had come to him.

She smiled more broadly, trying not to distract him. For a moment, she felt something strangely comforting. She was no longer just someone who needed to be protected. She was someone who could help him. Someone he trusted with a part of his world.

Tavo continued the conversation.

"I understand that Ocampo’s offer is attractive. But I also know that our cooperation has lasted for a long time, and we can offer you conditions that he won’t be able to provide."

Lucia watched him with growing interest. It wasn’t only that he was a good negotiator. She saw something more.

The way he analyzed the situation so quickly. The way he managed to remain calm even when someone was trying to take away something that mattered to him. Tavo had always seemed strong to her, but only now was she beginning to understand that his strength did not come from never losing. It came from always finding a way to win.

"I can offer you a thirty percent discount compared to Ocampo’s proposal," he said after a moment. "The photo shoot will be handled by our team, while maintaining all the standards you expect."

He paused briefly. "I’m confident you’ll be satisfied."

Lucia held her breath. She was almost certain he would succeed.

A few minutes later, the conversation came to an end. Tavo slowly placed the receiver back down, but he didn’t say anything immediately.

Lucia straightened at once. "And?"

Tavo didn’t answer.

He stood up slowly and walked past her with a completely serious expression.

Lucia felt her smile disappear. "Tavo?"

He turned toward her. "Have you ever heard the saying that the one who laughs last laughs best?"

Lucia turned slightly and frowned, not knowing where he was going with this.

"Yes..."

"Then listen."

For a moment, he looked completely serious.

And then, suddenly, he burst into loud laughter — genuine, honest laughter that she never would have expected from him.

For a second, Lucia stared at him in disbelief. Then everything became clear. They had done it.

She started laughing too. The relief came so quickly that it almost surprised her. Only moments earlier, she had been worried about Claudia, about the agency, about whether Ocampo would once again manage to get ahead of them.

But now all of that weight seemed to disappear. There was only happiness. And him.

She saw that Tavo again — the one she knew from the best moments. The man who could ease the tension with a single smile, the man who didn’t make problems disappear, but somehow made them seem a little easier to overcome.

"You’re impossible," she said, laughing along with him. And before she had time to think, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

For a fraction of a second, Tavo was surprised. Not by the gesture itself, but by the fact that Lucia no longer hesitated. Not long ago, she would have stopped half a step away from him. She would have thought about everything that could go wrong.

This time, joy was faster than reason. She was simply happy. And that mattered more to him than the victory over Ocampo itself.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"I knew it would work," he said softly.

"Of course you did," she replied with a laugh. "You always know everything."

"Not everything."

She looked at him with mild disbelief. "You don’t?"

He shook his head. "No."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other in silence. There was something completely different in that gaze compared to a few weeks earlier. Less tension. Less caution. More trust.

Seeing it, Tavo allowed himself a gesture that, before, they both would have avoided. He lifted her slightly off the ground, and instead of stiffening, Lucia laughed even louder. She didn’t analyze it. She didn’t search for hidden meanings. She was happy.

He turned around with her in his arms, and her laughter filled the entire office. For a moment, they weren’t the owner of the agency and the young model who had to be careful with every step. They were simply two people sharing a small victory.

When he finally set her back down, neither of them moved away immediately. His hands remained resting on her waist, while hers stayed on his shoulders.

Neither of them said anything more. There was no need.

For a moment, he felt that if he said anything now, he would ruin something that had happened so naturally on its own. For a brief moment, neither of them thought about the problems that, only a few weeks earlier, had seemed impossible to overcome.

-------------------

Two months passed.

At first, nothing changed dramatically.

There was no single conversation, no one gesture, no one moment after which everything suddenly became easier. The changes came quietly — through small decisions, fleeting looks, and the fact that certain memories no longer hurt quite as deeply as they once had.

The agency remained just as chaotic as ever. There were still new assignments, new faces, new expectations. But Lucia began moving through that world differently than before — with more confidence, more calm, as if she had finally stopped questioning at every step whether she had the right to belong there.

Tavo noticed the change first, although he never commented on it.

He knew that the greatest success would not be the moment when Lucia began building her career, but the moment when she truly believed she was good enough. Even if that meant that one day she would no longer search his eyes for reassurance.

He knew that was exactly what he should want for her. He just wasn’t sure how easy it would be to accept that her strength also meant she might need him less.

The first photo shoots came one after another, followed by advertising campaigns.

Diego, who had taken over part of the production work, quickly noticed that Lucia was no longer just a model being positioned in front of the camera. She was becoming someone who understood what was happening inside that frame.

Sometimes he would stop her for a little longer, explaining something about the lighting, the camera movement, the rhythm of a shot — and she listened with an attention that was no longer forced.

She asked questions. A lot of questions. At first they were cautious, then increasingly specific, until Diego eventually caught himself explaining things to her that usually didn’t interest models at all.

And yet, with Lucia, it worked differently. She only needed one, sometimes two shots. The rest came naturally, as though her body and mind had finally begun moving in the same rhythm.

Diego spoke about her openly and without hesitation, and Kuka — hearing it more and more often — slowly began to see Lucia differently. Not through the circumstances that had brought her there, but through the way she worked. Over time, that initial uncertainty that had once been so obvious began to disappear. It was replaced by something much harder to define — a focus that no longer needed outside approval.

At the same time, and at an entirely different pace, something inside Kuka began to change. There was no single defining moment. Rather, it was a series of small events that should not have meant much, yet somehow began forming something within her that could no longer be easily pushed aside.

Ramiro, Diego’s son, entered her world completely naturally. Six years old, lively, direct, carrying that childlike certainty that the world was simpler than it truly was.

One day, he brought her a drawing — the three of them together, created by a child’s hand, standing side by side like a family that simply existed. Kuka looked at the picture longer than she should have.

And something deep inside her moved — not toward happiness, but toward memory. Toward what should have been hers but never happened. Toward what had been taken away before it ever had a chance to exist.

Around that same time, she also began thinking differently about Daniela. About the lie that had kept her trapped in tension for months. Not suddenly. Not dramatically. More like someone slowly loosening a tightly tied knot, allowing her to breathe a little deeper, even if she still wasn’t completely free.

At the house where the models lived, conversations began to sound different too.

Lucia spoke about her mother more and more often. Not in a heavy or dramatic way, but naturally — like someone talking about a person who was a permanent part of her life. She talked about small things: phone calls, conversations, shared habits that built a relationship far more than grand declarations ever could.

Kuka listened quietly. Sometimes with something close to admiration. Sometimes with something much harder to name. Not jealousy exactly, but a gentler version of it — the awareness that someone else possessed something she had never truly had in that form. And for a while, she was convinced she might never have it.

And yet, precisely because of Lucia, something began appearing inside her that was no longer just observation. Rather, it was a quiet attachment to her presence. To the fact that Lucia was steady, dependable in the best sense of the word, genuine in a way that never needed to be questioned.

Meanwhile, in the agency, somewhere between the office and everyday responsibilities, something slowly began forming. Something no one named. Something no one knew about.

Lucia and Tavo stayed after hours. Officially, it was to finish work and tidy up. The office emptied, the world outside the windows grew quieter, and they remained there in the same space that was slowly becoming something more than just a workplace.

Their conversations grew longer, more natural, sometimes ending halfway through a sentence, as if not everything needed to be completed with words. They talked about far more than fashion shows and photo shoots. They shared stories from the past, dreams for the future, and ordinary details of everyday life.

Sometimes they simply sat in silence. And that silence was no longer uncomfortable. Something began appearing between them that no longer needed an excuse. It existed in small, almost invisible gestures. When Tavo asked if she had eaten lunch. When Lucia fixed his collar without thinking, only realizing afterward that perhaps it was something she shouldn’t have done. Sometimes she leaned over the documents beside him and stayed there a second longer than necessary, until their shoulders almost touched.

Other times, when he said something jokingly and she laughed, her head would briefly fall against his shoulder — lightly, almost accidentally, but no longer pulled away by embarrassment. He didn’t move away immediately. Instead, he remained in that moment just a little longer than reason would suggest. As if he was learning that her presence had its own warmth and did not need to be immediately controlled.

The most difficult moments were not the grand gestures. They were the smallest ones. The ones neither of them planned. The moment when Lucia stood beside his desk talking and forgot she was supposed to step away. The second when Tavo wanted to say something but instead simply looked at her a little longer.

They both knew those moments existed. They both pretended they didn’t matter.

And yet, whenever someone else appeared, they immediately returned to a safer distance, as though they both knew exactly where the line was — the one they could not cross in front of witnesses.

Kuka watched from the sidelines and, over time, became increasingly convinced that nothing between them was changing. That whatever had once looked like something more had only been a passing moment — an emotion that came and went, like so many others. She did not know that she only saw what they allowed others to see.

The most important change was not happening in gestures anyone could notice. Lucia began attending therapy. At first, there were only the words of other women — fragmented, painful, sometimes chaotic stories that nevertheless carried the same shared weight. Over time, she began recognizing something she had never been able to name before: that she was not the only one living with fear. Not the only one returning to the past at the most unexpected moments. Not the only one trying to understand herself again.

One evening, one of the women said something that stayed with her for a long time: that sometimes a person spends so long trying to survive that they forget what life feels like when they no longer have to fight.

And slowly, very slowly, something inside Lucia began to shift. What had once seemed like the central point of her entire existence began losing its sharpness. It did not disappear. But it stopped defining everything else. And the world around her — people, work, relationships — began taking up more space than she had previously been brave enough to allow.

For Tavo, those two months were just as difficult, though for an entirely different reason. He had to learn not to rescue Lucia every time he saw uncertainty in her eyes. Over time, he understood that the greatest proof of trust was not that she came to him for help. It was that she could walk away and make a decision on her own.

The hardest part, however, was realizing that the more independent Lucia became, the more he had to admit something to himself: He did not want to be only the person who helped her get back on her feet. He wanted to be the person she chose to stay with.

---------------------------

Tavo was waiting for her, as he always did. Over time, it had become so natural that neither of them stopped to wonder anymore whether things should be different.

When Lucia walked out of the building, her eyes instinctively searched for his car. It was parked exactly where it usually was.

She gave a faint smile. The exhaustion after therapy always came only once she left. Inside the room, a person was still talking, still trying to organize their thoughts, still struggling to put feelings into words. Only afterward did the body remember how much effort it had taken to say everything out loud.

She opened the door and sat down beside him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Tavo didn’t start the engine. He had learned by now that after therapy there was no need to rush. 

He looked at her calmly.

"Did you talk?"

As she walked down the stairs, she had tried to leave those conversations behind. Without success. All it took was closing the door behind her for every word she had spoken to come rushing back with twice the force.

"Yes... we talked."

Her voice was quieter than usual. Tavo noticed immediately.

Over the past few weeks, he had learned to recognize the days when the conversations during therapy left deeper marks on her. He also knew that the worst thing she could do was keep everything locked inside. When she talked — even slowly, even with difficulty — she returned home calmer.

"And what did you talk about?"

She turned her gaze toward the front window. She could hear the concern in his voice, but there was not the slightest trace of simple curiosity. He was asking because he genuinely wanted to know how she felt. And that was precisely what made the answer easier to give.

"Federico."

Tavo nodded, as though that was exactly the answer he had expected.

"And how did that go?"

Lucia smiled faintly, without much conviction. "Honestly?"

He looked at her. He had no intention of rushing her. "Of course."

For a moment, she remained completely still. Then, almost instinctively, she shifted a little closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

She didn’t think about the gesture. A few months earlier, she probably would have stopped halfway through the movement, embarrassed by her own need for closeness. Now she didn’t think about how it looked. She was simply tired.

Tavo didn’t move at all. The warm weight of her head resting on his shoulder felt so natural that only after a moment did he realize just how accustomed he had become to having her this close. He stayed silent, giving her time.

"Tavo..."

"What?"

He lifted his hand and gently ran it through her hair. He wanted her to feel that he was there for her, right beside her.

Then he brushed his lips against the top of her head. He did it instinctively. Only afterward did he realize he hadn’t planned it at all. It had simply happened.

Lucia closed her eyes. Those small gestures calmed her more than she had expected. They reminded her that, just for a moment, she was allowed to stop being strong.

"I feel awful..." she whispered. "I keep thinking about Federico again... and for a moment it felt as if everything had come back."

Tavo didn’t answer immediately. The therapist had warned him that this was often what the beginning of healing looked like. A person did not return to the past because they were losing. They returned to it because they finally had enough strength to face it again — this time consciously.

He wrapped his arm around her a little tighter. "It’s okay... Don’t worry." He gently stroked her arm. "You're with me."

His voice soothed her more than any reassurance she had heard before. With him, the words you're with me were not empty comfort spoken out of obligation. They were something she believed. And that was precisely why the tension slowly began to fade.

For a moment, he remained quiet.  "Federico is gone." 

He waited until her breathing had become calmer. "And you are already so far away from that girl you used to be."

Those words reached her more deeply than she expected. Slowly, she lifted her head, and their faces were suddenly very close.

Lucia looked at him for a long moment, as if only now she was truly seeing the man who had been walking beside her for months — patiently, never trying to force her to move faster than she was ready to.

"Thank you." A very small smile appeared on her lips. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Tavo smiled back.  He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"I hope that one day you won't have to wonder about that anymore."

Lucia frowned slightly. "Why?"

He looked ahead. "Because I want you to believe in yourself first and foremost."

He didn’t say that even if one day she no longer needed him, he had no intention of leaving. That thought had been inside him for a long time. But he still wasn’t ready to say it aloud.

Only then did he start the engine.

They drove in silence for a while — but it was no longer the same tense silence as before. What was difficult had only been set aside for a moment, not ignored.

Lucia looked ahead, although her thoughts kept returning to the car, to her own words, to that one pause that made it impossible for her to think about anything indifferently now.

Tavo drove calmly. For a while, he followed the familiar route, but then he hesitated and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"I have an idea. Would you like to go somewhere else first?"

Lucia looked at him with slight surprise.

"Where?"

"For a walk."

She nodded and didn’t ask anything more.

The park welcomed them with cooler air and a light that softened as the day slowly came to an end. They got out of the car without rushing, both needing that change of pace more than they were willing to admit. For the first few steps, they walked side by side in silence, but it was no longer heavy. It was gentle, stretched between the trees, filled with things that didn’t need to be spoken in order to exist.

Lucia walked a little slower than usual. The exhaustion from the entire day was not only physical. She could still feel the echo of the therapy session, the voices of the other women, her own words that she had finally dared to say aloud and that had not yet settled inside her.

At one point, without thinking, she slipped her hand beneath Tavo’s arm. There was a need for support in that simple gesture. She allowed herself not to think about what she should do, what she should say, or what she should hide.

A moment later, her head rested against his shoulder — not as suddenly as before, not as a reaction to overwhelming emotions, but more calmly, almost naturally. That place was still there. And she could rely on it.

Tavo did not react immediately, but he did not move away either. His pace slowed slightly, adjusting to hers.

He felt her presence beside him differently now. Not like a temporary impulse, but like something that was slowly becoming part of his everyday life. And that was the hardest thing to put into words: This closeness was no longer just a moment. It was beginning to become a state of being.

They walked for a while longer, unhurried, neither of them wanting to return home or bring this afternoon to an end. Only when they found an empty bench beneath an old chestnut tree did they finally sit down, allowing themselves a moment of stillness.

The park was slowly emptying. Somewhere in the distance, children were still laughing. Someone rode past on a bicycle. The wind moved through the leaves, spreading a quiet rustling sound around them. Yet all those noises seemed distant, muted.

The world had taken a step back and left them alone. For a while, they sat in silence. A silence that was no longer heavy or uncomfortable. There was something soft about it. Something careful. Something that slowly revealed new feelings between them, even though neither of them was ready to give them a name.

Lucia looked ahead, at the path winding between the trees, but her attention kept returning to Tavo. To his presence beside her — calm and certain, as natural as if he had always been there.

That was what surprised her. She was used to tension. To having to control situations. To people who expected something from her. With him, she didn’t have to prove anything. And that was precisely what unsettled her.

Her fingers brushed over the edge of her sleeve, adjusting the fabric more to keep her hands occupied than because it needed fixing.

She felt that she should say something. But she didn’t know how.

Tavo turned his head slightly toward her.

"Do you feel better?"

She looked at him and nodded.

"Yes."

The answer was honest.

Just a short while ago, she had felt as though everything was too much. Her thoughts had overwhelmed her, her emotions had slipped beyond her control.

And now... Now she was sitting beside him, and breathing felt easier. That realization came suddenly and surprised her with its simplicity.

She remained silent for another moment, wondering whether she should say it. Reason told her to keep it to herself. But before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

"Whenever we’re together, I feel good."

She immediately felt warmth spread across her cheeks.

God, why did I say that?

She lowered her gaze and nervously adjusted her sleeve.

"That’s probably a bad thing to say."

Tavo looked at her with slight surprise. He didn’t understand what could possibly be wrong with that.

Ever since Lucia had entered his life, he had found himself waiting for her morning coffee, wanting to tell her things, realizing that her presence could transform ordinary days into something he actually looked forward to.

He had never analyzed it too deeply. Or perhaps he had analyzed it far too much.

He smiled slightly.

"Quite the opposite. Because I feel the same way when I’m with you."

Lucia turned toward him so quickly that a few strands of hair fell across her face. For a moment, she simply stared at him, trying to decide whether he was serious. He didn’t look like a man who was joking. His voice was calm. His eyes were sincere. And yet she couldn’t believe it immediately.

"Really? Why?" The question escaped before she could stop it.

Tavo raised his eyebrows slightly. "Do you doubt my words?"

"No, that’s not it."

Lucia sighed and looked away. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t trust him. For a moment, she searched for the right words, but none seemed right.

"It’s just... I think people always say the things I want to hear, but only because they want me to feel better."

She said it quietly, almost ashamed. She was admitting something she didn’t like about herself.

Tavo’s expression became serious. He understood that this wasn’t really a question about him. It was a fear of disappointment. A fear of trusting someone so completely that their words could hurt her.

He looked at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap, at the tension visible in her shoulders. And he felt something between sadness and tenderness.

"You know what I think about that?" he said calmly. "I will never — ever — lie to you."

Lucia looked up at him. The sentence was so simple, yet it struck her with unexpected force. Because she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much that it frightened her.

She swallowed. "Are you sure?"

Tavo let out a quiet breath, not in irritation, but almost helplessly at the amount of uncertainty hidden inside that one question. He turned toward her a little more.

"Lucia..."

He only said her name, but she heard everything in it. Patience. Care. And something else that made warmth spread through her.

She lowered her eyes and smiled nervously. "I’m sorry..."

She laughed softly. "You know... something is happening to me..."

She stopped. How could she explain it? That lately she thought about him more often than she should. That she increasingly looked for his presence, even though she still didn’t want to admit why.

She became frightened by her own thoughts and shook her head. "Forget it."

"That’s important. At least to me."

She looked up. Tavo was watching her calmly. He wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t trying to guess. He was simply waiting.

And that was the hardest part. Because with him, she wanted to tell the truth. And the truth was becoming more dangerous.

She stayed silent for another moment, gathering courage. Finally, she spoke softly.

"When I’m alone with you..."

She stopped and felt her heart begin to beat faster. It was ridiculous. She had never had trouble speaking before. And now words failed her. She nervously intertwined her fingers.

"I feel strange somehow."

She regretted the words immediately. They sounded foolish. They explained nothing. Because how could she explain that with him she felt calm and nervous at the same time? That she wanted to be closer while also being afraid of wanting it? That sometimes she caught herself looking at him longer than she should?

She couldn’t. She looked at him uncertainly and saw that Tavo was smiling slightly. He had heard something he himself had been trying to understand for a long time.

"I feel strange too when I’m with you."

Lucia stared at him for a long moment. Suddenly, everything around them seemed strangely quiet. The world slowed down.

She didn’t answer because she didn’t know what to say. His words did not calm her. They had the opposite effect.

Her heart started beating even faster. Because if he felt the same... then it meant she hadn’t imagined any of it. That the tension she had been unable to name for so long truly existed between them. But that realization did not bring relief.

Because if it was real, it became even harder to pretend it didn’t matter. That there weren’t all the things that should keep them apart.

Tavo moved only after a long moment. It did not seem like a spontaneous gesture. More like a decision that had been growing inside him for some time, until it finally became the only possible thing to do.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a small rectangular box. For a moment, he held it in his hand before offering it to her without a word. The first thing Lucia noticed was the decorative name of the jeweler printed on the lid.

"Iguazú..." she whispered.

She was afraid to trust her own realization. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a statement. It was more like a breath in which the past suddenly returned too vividly. Like sunlight hitting her eyes even through closed lids.

She didn’t take the box. She shook her head slightly, more to herself than to him, trying to regain some distance before her emotions moved faster than she could control.

"I can’t accept this," she said finally, too quickly. "It’s... too much."

There was no rejection of him in her voice. Only caution toward the meaning that was beginning to gather around this small object. It was something bigger than a gift. Something that could pull her back toward a place she wasn’t yet brave enough to return to.

Tavo did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he did something simple. Almost natural. He took her hand and closed the box inside it. He didn’t try to convince her. He simply gave her time to decide for herself whether she wanted to accept it.

"I wanted you to have it," he said quietly, without pressure. "But I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you."

Lucia hesitated for another moment. She searched his face for any sign that would allow her to step back. A joke. Distance. Even the smallest indication that this wasn’t as serious as it felt.

But he was simply there. Quiet. Attentive. Present in a way that didn’t leave her room to run away, but also didn’t take away her choice. And that was what finally made her stop fighting.

She opened the box. Inside was the pendant she immediately recognized. The same one that had caught her eye during their trip. To her, it had been only a small detail in one of many beautiful moments from that journey. She had never known that, for him as well, it had become something unforgettable.

"I remember it," she whispered. Her voice was different now. Softer. Suddenly she understood that he hadn’t bought it recently. This little object had traveled with him all the way from the waterfalls to this exact moment.

Tavo simply nodded. He didn’t add anything else because there was nothing more to say.

And then they stayed there together in silence. A silence that didn’t demand explanations. For that brief moment, the world stopped pulling them in different directions and simply allowed them to exist.

-------------------

The evening in Lucia’s room was quiet in a way that no longer brought comfort.

Instead, it left too much space for thoughts that throughout the day she had tried to push away — hidden beneath conversations, work, and everything that allowed her not to stop for too long and face her own emotions.

The light from the small lamp spilled softly across the wall, bringing familiar shapes out of the darkness.

Everything around her looked exactly the same as it did on any other evening, and yet she had the strange feeling that she had returned to this room somehow different from the girl who had left it that morning.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared ahead for a while. Only after several long moments did her eyes fall on the slightly open drawer. She reached toward it slowly, almost carefully, as if she already knew there was something inside that she shouldn’t touch right now — and yet something she had needed for a long time.

The photograph was lying on top. She picked it up and simply looked at it for a moment. It was the same moment she remembered from the trip. Simple. Quiet. Apparently no different from the many other moments they had shared during those days.

Back then, she hadn’t thought about it for long. It had simply been part of the journey. Part of a time when everything had seemed easier, when she had been able to forget, even briefly, about everything she had left behind.

Now she looked at the photograph differently. Not because something extraordinary had happened in that moment. 

What moved her most was the realization that, for him, that moment had mattered too. Tavo remembered. He had noticed something that, to her, had been nothing more than a brief glance at a display, a small moment of admiration she hadn’t even considered important. And yet he had kept that moment.

He had thought of her then, at a time when there was still nothing between them that could be named. At a time when he himself probably didn’t want to admit why that small object had caught his attention.

She reached into her pocket and took out the pendant. For a while, she held it in her palm, watching the metal catch the soft light from the lamp.

It was small. Delicate. And yet there was something about it that she couldn’t ignore. It was no longer just a piece of jewelry. It had become a memory. A reminder of a moment whose true meaning she was only beginning to understand.

Slowly, she put it on, feeling the cool metal against her skin. Her fingers lingered on the chain, as if she needed to make sure it was really there. She smiled faintly as she looked at the photograph once more.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She wasn’t sure whether she was speaking to him or to the memory that had suddenly become so precious. To the man who had made her feel seen — not for who she was supposed to be, but for who she truly was.

For a while, she allowed herself not to think about anything else. Not about the fact that Tavo was older and her boss. Not about the fact that their worlds were more different than she wanted to admit.

She allowed herself simply to enjoy the thought that someone had thought of her in such a way. But that very thought was both the most beautiful and the most dangerous one.

Because the problem was no longer that she didn’t know what she felt. The problem was that she was beginning to understand more and more. And the more clearly she saw how much existed between them, the harder it became to pretend that it meant nothing.

She lowered the photograph onto her lap and sat motionless for a while.

"This shouldn’t be so difficult..." she whispered.

She wasn’t angry with herself. She wasn’t trying to convince herself that everything was a mistake. For the first time, she understood that the greatest problem was not the feeling itself. It was the fact that it had appeared at the worst possible moment — and toward the one person beside whom she couldn’t simply pretend that nothing was happening.

She placed the photograph back in the drawer and closed it more slowly than she had opened it.

Then she lay down on the bed, but for a long time she didn’t turn off the light.

One hand rested over the pendant, as if that small object was the only proof that everything that had happened was real.

And then she closed her eyes. Not because she wanted to forget. But because, for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know what to do with something she knew she shouldn’t want... and yet could no longer bring herself to deny.

Chapter 5 - Tavo's House Keys

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