I couldn't stop thinking about what Carlos said.
"You don't have to pretend. I'm tired too. Just say it as it is."
That sentence drilled into my head all night long.It was like hearing it over and over again, in his calm voice, with that emotionless gaze that seemed to read right through me.
I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw him riding away on his bike—leaving behind not just the school, but also the fragile stability I thought I had.
And now I'm here, standing in front of the mirror, getting ready for another day just like the rest…or at least that's what I want to believe.
"Good morning, Mafer," I whisper to myself, as if saying it out loud could convince me I can go back to pretending everything's fine.I smile. One of those trained smiles. Perfect. Not too wide, not too short. Just enough to look pleasant.
The bell rings, and the routine starts all over again.The same voices, the same gossip, the same laughter filling the hallways.And at the back… there he is.
Carlos Galván.The new boy who, in a single day, managed to take apart my façade—without even trying.
I try to act normal. Laugh when I'm supposed to, greet people with the same controlled warmth everyone expects from me.But between each polite word, my gaze keeps drifting toward him.
He's sitting at his desk, staring forward with that same neutral expression.Not bored, not interested. Just… present.
"What did he really mean?" I wonder.Does he know something more?Did he notice everything I pretend to be every day?
"Mafer, could you pass the marker to Carlos?" the history teacher asks.
I nod quickly, grab the marker, and walk toward his desk.For some reason, my steps feel clumsy—like the floor turned into air.
"Here you go," I say with an automatic smile.
Carlos barely looks up, meets my eyes, and nods."Thanks."
Nothing more. No extra words. No emotion.And yet… it feels like we've just had an entire conversation.
During the next hour, I catch myself looking at him again.He writes calmly, resting his head on one hand. Sometimes, he looks out the window—and for some reason, I feel like he's thinking about things far too deep for an ordinary Monday.
And yes… I'm staring too much.
At one point, he turns his head, and instinctively, I look away toward the board.My heart races.I take a deep breath.Okay. Nothing happened.
A second later, I glance back.
And he's looking at me again.
Crap.I grab my pencil and start writing frantically. I have no idea what I'm even writing, but it looks urgent enough.
"Mafer, what are you writing?" Sofia whispers beside me.
"Oh, uh… key concepts," I blurt out without thinking.
"But this is math class."
"Excellent, Mafer. You're officially losing your mind," I think, biting my lip and closing my notebook like that could erase the mistake.
The following days weren't much different.I tried several times to talk to Carlos, hiding my intentions under every excuse I could come up with.
On Tuesday, for example, I intercepted him in the hallway.
"Hey, Carlos. The guys are planning to play soccer again—want to come? It's not serious, just for fun."
"I don't play much," he replied, eyes still on the hallway.
"You could give it a try. Nobody's that good, trust me."
"Still, I'll pass."
He smiled, but it was… minimal.Polite, but distant.Then he walked away.
On Wednesday, I tried a different tactic.Maybe food will work. Food always works.
"Hey, Carlos, have you tried the cafeteria pizza? It's not the best in the world, but at least it doesn't poison you."
He raised an eyebrow, barely reacting."I try to avoid eating here. I bring lunch from home."
"Okay. Failed attempt number two."
I started to feel like I was playing a game he didn't even know existed.And the worst part was that every time he turned me down, he did it so calmly that I couldn't even be mad about it.
During chemistry class, the teacher asked us to work in pairs.And of course, without thinking, I went straight to him.
"Would you mind if we worked together?"
Carlos nodded, as if it were inevitable.We spent the entire class preparing solutions in silence.
I kept trying to start a conversation:"Do you like science?""I guess.""And the teacher? She's nice, right?""Yes."
And that was it. Every attempt died before it was even born.While he mixed the liquids with perfect precision, I analyzed every word he said like it was an emotional equation.
Why doesn't he show interest? Is he shy? Or does he just not want to talk to me?
"Come on, Mafer, think. You're doing something wrong."
But no. He stayed the same.And I, more frustrated every minute, started overthinking everything.
"Maybe he thinks I'm stalking him… No, that would be ridiculous… or would it? Oh no! What if I really look like a stalker?"
My brain was pure chaos—and him, so calm, as if nothing else in the world existed.
By Thursday, I was at my limit.Three days trying to get closer, and nothing.Every smile, every kind word, every attempt to connect just bounced off his wall of serenity.
And to top it off, that day no one invited me to go downtown after school.Usually, I'd get at least one or two invitations—even just to grab a coffee.But that day… nothing.
"Maybe it's because I've been distracted. Or because I've been staring at Carlos like a total creep. Yeah, that must be it."
I rubbed my temples and sighed."This is giving me a headache…"
"What is?" a male voice asked behind me.
I jumped.Carlos.
He was standing by the classroom door, adjusting his backpack strap.He looked at me with mild curiosity, like he couldn't understand why I was massaging my head at my desk.
"Oh, nothing. Just… me things," I said quickly, nervous.
"See you tomorrow, Mafer."
"Wait!"
The words slipped out before I could stop them.And when I realized, I was already taking a step toward him.
"Could you… stay for a moment? I just want to talk about something quick. In the library."My voice trembled, but I tried to sound composed."I don't want anyone to overhear and get the wrong idea if we talk here in the hallway."
Carlos looked at me for a moment, thoughtful."…Alright."
The library was almost empty.Only one girl was asleep over a book in the corner, and the clock ticked loudly—matching the rhythm of my anxiety.
I sat in front of him.And started to stutter.
"Carlos, I… I wanted to ask you something important."
He frowned slightly, confused."Before you say anything weird," he interrupted calmly, "I should make it clear—I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm not good at that kind of thing."
I froze.
"What—? No! Please, no! That's not what I was going to say," I replied immediately, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks."I just wanted to be your friend. You know, help you fit in a little… so you wouldn't feel like… me."
I stopped.My own words betrayed me.Like me.
Carlos stared at me silently, but his expression shifted slightly—somewhere between surprise and understanding.
"Ah, I see," he said finally."So that's why you've been stalking me all week."
"I wasn't stalking you!" I exclaimed, hands over my chest."I was just trying to help."
"Help me with what, exactly?" he asked calmly, resting his chin on his hand."To pretend I get along with everyone?"
I fell silent.Every word from him felt like a stone thrown with perfect aim.
"Look, Mafer…" he continued,"I appreciate whatever it is you were trying to do, but it's not necessary. I don't need someone to teach me how to have fake friendships. Everything happens in its own time, you know? Forcing it doesn't change the fact that it's empty."
A knot formed in my throat."They're not fake…" I whispered weakly."I really care about the people I talk to every day."
Carlos nodded slowly."It's not the same to care about someone because they make you feel accepted, as it is to enjoy spending time with them. If you keep talking to people just because you're afraid of being alone… you'll push them away anyway."
His words hit harder than I expected."Why does it hurt so much when he's right?"
He stood up, grabbed his backpack, and started walking toward the exit.
"You're not a bad person, Mafer," he said softly. "You're just… tired. But I don't want to be friends with someone who's pretending."
He stopped for a moment, without turning around.
"If the real María Fernanda ever wants to talk, I won't mind listening."
And then he left.
I stayed there.Alone.
The silence in the library felt heavier, as if the walls were closing in.I leaned my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands.
Something inside me cracked.
All this time, I thought pretending was the best way to survive—to not feel lonely, to avoid being seen as the weird girl.And now someone had said it out loud.
"If you keep talking to people just because you're afraid of being alone…"
The sentence replayed again and again in my mind, just like the last one.But this time… it hurt more.
I closed my eyes.Took a deep breath.And for the first time in a long time… I let a tear fall.
Because yes—Carlos was right.And it shouldn't hurt this much to admit it.