—At some point you'll have to tell her. How will you do it, Marl?
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but each word fell with the weight of a stone in a still lake. There was no reproach, only a firm certainty that hurt more than any shout.
I remained motionless. It wasn't fear. Not entirely. It was that thick mixture between exhaustion and resignation, as if every cell knew it was already too late to pretend.
I looked away, while feeling my throat close with words that refused to come out.
I clenched my fists over my legs. The cold surface of the metal seat seeped into my bones, as if reminding me of the reality of my misery.
With my trembling lips and clouded mind...
—I can't... not now.
Mian leaned toward the table. There was no anger on her face, just a firm compassion, the kind that doesn't comfort but doesn't let go.
—What are you clinging to, Marl? To the sweet idea that you can protect her? Or to the absurd hope that, if you don't say it, it won't be real?
The sound of my saliva passing through my throat echoed within me, like a broken heartbeat.
—What... what do you mean?
Mian lowered her gaze. Between her fingers a small napkin, she played at folding and smoothing it, as if in that gesture she sought to create order beside me.
—You know well... you can't hide it forever. She's already seven years old. How much longer will you hide it from her? Until she dies perhaps?
Silence fell like a shadow. I felt my jaw tense and my fingers dig into the fabric of my pants. The murmurs of the plaza became cold static.
But in that darkness, only one word left my lips.
—If that makes her happy... then yes.
Mian sighed. Her golden eyes filled with compassion, as if that conversation had been repeated a thousand times in her head. She remained silent, letting the light from the streetlamps flicker in her drink.
—I understand. I don't agree... but if that's your decision, I'll be with you.
Her voice was a warm balm in the cold of my doubts.
For an instant, I didn't feel so alone.
I looked at her, still trembling, surprised by the warmth in her words. I nodded, and something in my chest shifted.
—Thank you... —I murmured, sketching a weak smile—. She likes sour and sweet, how about we buy a cake with strawberries dipped in chocolate.
Mian let out a little laugh and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms behind her neck.
—Sure. While you're at it, ask me out.
Her gaze sparkled, and for a moment, the tension dissolved. That was her greatest talent, she could change the mood of the environment with a single word.
—Ha, ha. Alright. But you pay for the popcorn.
—Don't even dream of it, Stimson.
We stood up at the same time. We left behind that metal table and the empty container.
I still felt a shadow coiling around my throat, but something was different, I had her by my side. And for now, that was enough.
Meanwhile, in Marl's apartment, a deep engine broke the stillness of the street. A black limousine, so polished it seemed to absorb light, stopped in front of the building.
From among the shadows descended a man of distinguished bearing. His steps resonated with confidence as he crossed the lobby; gazes settled on him with caution, not daring to stop him. Upon reaching the reception, he pronounced a single phrase, paused and loaded with intention:
—Room 9-13.
Inside the apartment, Rinn was curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion. Her large eyes didn't leave the television, where a report talked about the city's hero. The protagonist's cape waved like a banner under the overcast sky, facing yet another threat.
The presenter related with enthusiasm:
—"The great hero Ergos has saved us again. This morning, the villain Eggface was stopped while trying to rob the most exclusive wine cellar with a giant mechanical drill. Oh Eggface 'You went for wine, and it didn't even come to you!'"
—Hahaha! Ergos is incredible. He always acts on time —she said, pressing the cushion against her chest, as if with it she could catch a bit of that light.
The aroma of hot chocolate floated in the air, intermingled with the clean smell of hanging clothes. For an instant, everything seemed calm, as if the world could sustain itself with just that laughter.
Just when she was about to change the channel, a dry knock echoed on the door.
—So-so quickly th-they arrived?
The cushion slipped from her arms, falling to the floor. While her heart raced from her chest.
She stood up slowly. The cold floor under her feet anchored her to reality. While her excitement ran through her body like an electric shock.
She advanced step by step toward the door. The world of the room reduced to the insistent beat of her heart resonating in her ears. Upon placing her hand on the doorknob, she stopped. Fear and hope wrestled inside her, with neither managing to fully impose itself.
"What if it's not them... brother hasn't arrived yet..."
Saliva passed through her throat, as if swallowing earth.
"I must open for them... I want to open for them... I just need to open for them"
She took one last inhalation, sliding the air through her lungs, forcing her body to obey. She turned the golden doorknob, feeling the cutting cold of the metal. And, holding that breath, she opened the door...