I woke up far too early for a Saturday.Opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, feeling that annoying mix of exhaustion and boredom.I had just woken up and I was already bored… great sign for the kind of day I was about to have.
Locking myself in the studio all day just to avoid running into Rafael…That was cowardice.Unfair to myself.Ridiculous, even.
I sighed, got up, and grabbed the first comfortable little dress I could find.Pulled my hair into a half-baked bun, filled a mug with hot coffee, and opened the door, praying I'd find the landlord outside. I missed him, and I had barely managed to see him that week.
As always, he was there, in the garden.Watering the plants with the quiet ease of someone who seems to belong to that place since before anyone existed.
— Good morning, Helena! — he said, smiling without even needing to look up.
— Morning — I answered, sitting on the first step of the stairs.
We talked for a few minutes, the sun warming slowly, the smell of damp soil rising from the plants.I told him a thing or two about the university, but not much — my mind was in a thousand different places, half of them I didn't want to admit.
When my coffee was gone, I tapped the empty mug and stood up.
— I think I'll take advantage of the nice weather and go for a walk — I said. — Let the sun hit my face a bit.
He laughed lightly.
— As if you don't do that every day walking to the university.
I rolled my eyes, laughing too.
— This is different.
He shrugged, as if saying if you say so, and I walked to the gate — ready to wander aimlessly, even if it was just to prove to myself that I still controlled something about my own life.
The Saturday slipped by almost in silence.I walked around town with no destination, just to make the hours move.Came back to the studio a little before noon and spent the next hours in a lazy back-and-forth between the couch and the fridge.
When the clock got close to seven, I dragged myself to the shower, mumbling to myself for having agreed to that bar night.
Why did I agree to that bar night?
A quick shower — and that would be it:show up, keep the promise, stay a few minutes, then invent some excuse to leave.Done… basic social survival.
I stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel and went straight to the bedroom.The black dress was there, hanging on the wardrobe door like an inconvenient reminder that I had said "yes."Evelyn had said it was "perfect for a Saturday night," and only God knew what she meant by "perfect."
I grabbed the dress, slipped it on, adjusted the straps on my shoulders.I didn't even have time to think — a noise in the garden made me go to the window.
And he was there.
With his back turned, doing something near the plants.But as if he had felt me…As if there was an invisible thread running from my chest to his…He turned quickly and looked straight at me.
The world shrank.
I stood there — hair still wet over my shoulders, the dress clinging lightly to warm skin straight from the shower — and his gaze cut through everything.
It wasn't just a look…It was one of those that make you feel too seen, too read, like every part of you is suddenly exposed.
My stomach twisted.
I stepped back without thinking and yanked the curtain closed.The fabric hit the wall hard.I took a deep breath and turned to the mirror.
Damn it.
The black dress, hair dripping down my back, chest rising and falling too fast as if I had run a marathon…And the absurd urge to rip the dress off, throw on my old sweatshirt, and collapse on the couch —or worse: go downstairs just to feel that look again.
I pressed my hand to my forehead.
— For God's sake, Helena… — I muttered.
I shook my head, chased away the stupid thoughts, and turned on the hairdryer.The noise helped me focus.I dried my hair, did my makeup the way Evelyn taught me, put on some gloss.When I checked the clock, it was already past eight.
— Great. Late for my own torture — I grumbled.
Grabbed my bag and called a taxi.I considered waiting by the gate, but then imagined the scene:me, in these heels, running into Rafael…and him teasing me about the height difference.
The irritation came instantly.
— Oh, screw him — I whispered. — I'll wear whatever heels I want.
I opened the door and started down the stairs.
When my feet touched the last step, he lifted his face.
His gaze came straight to me — unflinching, firm, deep — hitting me like it had found the exact place it hurt.I tried to hold it, I really did… but my body failed.
I looked down.
I walked past him in silence.He didn't say a word either…but did he need to?That alone already said everything.
I crossed the gate, and luckily the taxi pulled up at the same moment.I got in quickly, closed the door without looking back, and only let the trapped air out of my lungs once the car started moving.
And just like that, the night began.
The taxi stopped in front of the bar, and even before I opened the door I saw Evelyn and Daniel waiting outside.As soon as I stepped out, Evelyn crossed her arms, making a dramatic face of pure indignation.
— I was already grabbing my phone to call you — she scolded. — Late, Miss Helena.
Daniel let out a soft laugh.
— At least now I know why — he said, looking at me with a calmness that made me a little shy. — You look… very pretty tonight.
I felt my cheeks warm.
— Thanks — I murmured, tucking my hair behind my ear.
We walked into the bar, the amber lights giving everything a cozy glow.Evelyn marched straight to a table near the door — strategically placed to see who entered and who left, exactly her style.
We sat down, and Daniel signaled the waiter.
— A beer for me — he said.
— And two Pink Sunsets for us — Evelyn added, excited.
Before the waiter walked away, I interrupted:
— Actually… I'll have what Daniel's having.I smiled, a bit shy.— That drink is beautiful, but I prefer the taste of beer. It's more… familiar.
For a moment, something flickered across Daniel's face — a light surprise mixed with something I couldn't quite read.He looked at me for half a second before nodding slowly.
— A beer for her too — he told the waiter.
Daniel leaned a little toward me, smiling softly.
— Do you want to order something to eat?
— French fries? — I asked, already imagining the smell. — I could really eat something.
— Perfect — Evelyn agreed instantly. — I don't want to drink on an empty stomach either. I want to last a few good hours of fun.
I tried to laugh with her, but her words left a small, sharp ache in my chest.
She had absolutely no plans to go home early.
And I…I was already mentally listing the excuses I could use to escape before midnight.