Chapter 53

Chapter 53


Gabriel Dantas

The tray weighs more than it should, but I keep my posture as I glide between the tables. The lights flicker above my head, casting metallic reflections in the mirrors of the Royale.

I hand the glasses to the customers with the precision of someone who’s done it hundreds of times. I almost manage to shut off my mind—until I hear a familiar voice call my name.

— Gabriel! So good to see you. It’s been a while.

I lift my eyes and find Rui sitting at the farthest table from the bar. I smile genuinely. He’s always been different from the others who frequent this place—polite, generous, and most importantly: never crossed any lines.

— Yeah, Rui — I reply, balancing the tray in the palm of my hand. — I tried a job outside of here, but it didn’t really work out.

He strokes his beard with his fingers, that classic gesture of someone digesting information with empathy.

— I see... — he murmurs. — But tell me, are you available tonight?

I keep a calm expression, not letting the question throw me off balance.

— Look, Rui... I’m not offering that kind of service at the moment — I say honestly. — I just came back. I’m trying to reconnect with this place, with everything I left behind.

He tilts his head slightly, wearing a compassionate expression.

— Of course, Gabriel. I’d never pressure you. I respect your timing.

— Thanks for understanding — I reply, feeling relieved.

— No problem. But... that friend of yours, the cheerful blond one, what was his name again? Arthur, right? I liked him. Good vibes, you know?

I let out a short laugh, adjusting the tray as I face him.

— Who doesn’t like Arthur? Always full of energy, a bit too charming even.

— Yeah — he replies, chuckling. — So... attentive.

As if summoned, Arthur appears out of nowhere, with that exaggerated walk and his trademark mischievous sparkle in his eye.

— Well, well, talking trash about me? That’s so rude — he says, feigning indignation.

I laugh spontaneously.

— Not at all, clown. Rui just said he wants to spend the night with you.

Arthur claps his hands, theatrical as ever, thrilled by his own reputation.

— Baby... money in hand, pants on the floor! Right now if you want, gorgeous!

Rui bursts out laughing and shakes his head. The mood between the three of us becomes light, and for a moment, I forget the tension that’s followed me since I returned. Even if a part of me is still wounded, it’s impossible not to smile at Arthur’s spontaneity.

I step away for a moment to deliver another order. As I return to the bar, I catch a glimpse of Leonardo sitting a few meters away. Tense, eyes fixed on me like every movement I make is too important to miss.

I ignore it. Or at least I try.

— Everything okay? — Arthur asks, following me.

— Yeah. I just... don’t want to deal with Leonardo right now. It’s already hard enough being back without having to relive old ghosts.

He raises an eyebrow.

— He loves you. It’s written all over his face.

I roll my eyes but don’t argue. Because deep down, that possibility haunts me. And attracts me.

— His love hurt me — I murmur, without looking at Arthur. — I don’t know if I can trust again.

— Then don’t rush things. Focus on what makes you feel good. On what brings peace, not confusion.

I smile faintly. Arthur, with all his silliness, sometimes hits the nail on the head.

— You should be a therapist, you know?

— I already am. For body and soul traumas — he says, dramatically rolling his eyes. — And I charge a fortune!

We laugh again. And for the first time since I stepped in here, I feel whole—even if just for a few minutes.

I go back to circulating the room, balancing the tray like it’s an extension of my body. My steps are automatic, but my mind is tuned in to everything: glances, intentions, the stories whispered low between glasses and colorful drinks.

When I pass by Leonardo again, I pretend not to notice the heavy stare he casts. I don’t want any confrontations. At least not tonight.

For now, I serve smiles, collect tips, and let my soul breathe, even surrounded by memories that try to pull me backward. I’m still rebuilding. And that reconstruction doesn’t depend on him. It depends on me.

The atmosphere in the room remains light, lively, with laughter echoing from some tables and ambient music filling the empty spaces between conversations. Arthur continues to entertain Rui, and I take the chance to circle again, pick up empty glasses, and deliver more orders. I try to stay focused, at peace, and for a moment, I think I might have a quiet shift.

Until I smell it.

The scent creeps into the air like a memory shoved down my throat—woody, intense, sweet, and invasive. My body stiffens instantly. I turn my face toward the main door, and it’s impossible to fake surprise when my eyes meet his.

Silas.

He walks in with that same crooked smile I know too well, as if he never left, as if his very presence is a calculated provocation. Tight shirt, slicked-back hair, and that smug expression of someone who feeds off other people’s discomfort.

— Gabriel — he says, flashing that smile. — A prodigal son returns.

I don’t respond. I just adjust the tray in my hands, trying to focus on my steps, my breathing, anything to stop me from exploding right there.

— You’re going to ignore me here too, Gabriel? — he asks, approaching calmly, as if he hadn’t gone out of his way to disappear for so long.

I stop in front of him, eyes locked on his. My face stays calm, but inside, a whirlwind spins fast.

— I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not offering that kind of service — I say bluntly. — Especially not to you.

I try to move on, to handle the situation with elegance, but Silas reaches out and grabs my wrist. The grip is firm. Unnecessarily firm.

— Lately you’re getting way too difficult — he comments, his voice lowering, gaining a darker tone. — It’s like you want to be my enemy.

Locking my eyes on his, I set the tray down on an empty table and pull my wrist from his hand with calm and firmness.

— I don’t see you as an enemy, Silas. But I don’t forget what you did. — My breathing intensifies, and my voice hardens. — You tried to force me that day. And every time I remember, I feel disgusted.

He licks his lips, as if searching for a convincing answer deep in his throat. His eyes waver, just for a second, before regaining that usual mask.

— I already told you I was drunk. I drank too much. I lost control.

— And since when does that justify anything? — I retort, keeping my tone neutral. — That doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change how much it broke me inside.

Silas steps closer, too close. I can feel his breath on me.

— I’m not okay without you, Gabriel. Seriously. Come on... Sleep with me tonight. Just once. For old times’ sake.

I step back without thinking.

— I don’t want to — I say flatly.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, like he’s carrying a burden that doesn’t belong to him. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his perfect style, and his expression shifts from charming to unhinged in seconds.

— Why not? Why do you keep rejecting me?

— Because I already told you, Silas. It’s not mutual. I don’t feel anything for you — I affirm, trying to walk away, keeping my tone steady.

But he doesn’t accept it. Once again, his hand grabs mine—this time, more forcefully. The mischievous smile is gone. His gaze is hard, almost threatening.

— I’m not done with you yet, Gabriel.

I stay still. Eyes locked on his. My heart races, but I refuse to show any weakness.

The room keeps spinning around us, but everything feels suspended—as if time froze in that moment.

And that’s where everything stops. In the tension that rises without permission.

In the certainty that Silas still hasn’t understood the past belongs where it is: buried.

Even if he insists on digging it back up.