The morning arrived in silence. For the first time in a long while, I woke up without that crushing sensation of falling into a bottomless abyss. But the weight of last night still clung to me like a lingering shadow.
I got up slowly, trying to push away the memory of Clara’s touch, the way her eyes locked onto mine with such intensity, as if she were begging me not to let her go.
But I still didn’t know if I could.
When I stepped out of my room, I found Marcelo in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone while waiting for his coffee to brew. He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
“You look like a ghost,” he commented, taking a sip of his coffee.
I rolled my eyes. “Good morning to you too.”
He smirked but then grew serious. “You and Clara... did you work things out?”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “If by ‘work things out,’ you mean she told me the truth and now I have to decide if I can trust her again, then yeah. We worked things out.”
Marcelo studied me for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s not that simple, Bela. You know that.”
“I know,” I murmured. And that was exactly the problem.
The apartment was more crowded than usual that morning. Evelyn was seated at the dining table, her laptop open as she analyzed new information. Leo, still recovering, was sprawled on the couch, pretending not to listen to the conversation.
And then there was Clara.
She stood by the window, holding a cup of coffee, lost in thought.
I hesitated in the middle of the room, unsure whether to approach her or just keep walking.
As if sensing my hesitation, Clara turned, and our eyes met.
This time, she didn’t look away.
And neither did I.
“Do you want to go out today?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Clara blinked, surprised. “Go out?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just the two of us. I think... we need it.”
She studied me for a moment before offering a small smile. “Yeah. I think we do.”
Stepping into that café after so long felt like stepping into a portal to the past.
The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with warm bread. The same slightly worn wooden chairs. The same corner table where we always used to sit.
Clara paused at the entrance, taking a deep breath. “It looks exactly the same.”
But everything had changed.
We sat at our usual table, and for a few minutes, neither of us spoke. It felt strange being there, knowing everything we knew now.
Finally, Clara broke the silence. “This feels weird for you too, doesn’t it?”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Completely.”
She played with the napkin on the table, visibly nervous. “Thank you for this.”
I looked up. “For what?”
“For giving me this chance. I know I don’t deserve it.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if this is a second chance. But it’s a start.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together. “That already means a lot.”
After we ordered our coffee, the conversation drifted to lighter topics. We reminisced about old times, about small, mundane things, as if trying to recapture who we were before everything fell apart.
But there was something I needed to ask. Something that still weighed on my chest.
I set my cup down on the table and looked directly at Clara. “If Richard had never shown up, would you have told me the truth?”
She froze.
I saw the conflict in her eyes, the internal battle she was fighting.
And then, finally, she answered.
“I wanted to. But I don’t think I would have had the courage.”
The honesty in her voice hit me hard.
“Why?”
Clara let out a shaky sigh. “Because I knew I’d lose you.”
The silence that followed was almost deafening.
And part of me wanted to scream.
But another part...
The part that still loved her, that still wanted to believe in her...
Understood.
We returned to the apartment in silence.
But this time, it wasn’t a silence filled with pain.
It was the silence of something unfinished.
Something that still needed to be resolved.
When we reached the door, Clara hesitated. “Bela.”
I turned to face her. “What?”
She looked nervous as if she were about to say something important.
“I don’t know how long it will take for you to trust me again,” she said softly. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Her words hit something deep inside me.
I sighed, running a hand over my face. “Clara... I’m still trying to figure out what this means. What we mean.”
She nodded. “I know.”
And then, before I could change my mind, I reached out my hand.
She looked at it for a moment, surprised, before finally taking it.
It was a simple touch.
But it was a beginning.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe—just maybe—we were on the right path.