Chapter 18: Eighteen

Isabela

In the week following my return to work, the routine began to settle surprisingly smoothly. Clara had become an essential part of our household, not only taking care of Miguel but also forming a genuine connection with him. For the first time in a long while, I felt like things were finally falling into place.

That Friday, I arrived home a bit later than usual. Traffic had been terrible, and my mind was still filled with thoughts about the project I was leading at work. When I entered, Clara was in the kitchen preparing something for Miguel.

“How is he?” I asked, placing my bag on the table.

“He’s doing great. He’s already asleep. We burned a lot of energy today,” she replied with a smile.

“Thank you, Clara. You’ve been amazing.”

“I do my best,” she said modestly, shrugging. “You look tired. Everything okay at work?”

“Yes, just a bit hectic,” I responded. Clara nodded understandingly before saying goodbye and leaving for her weekend off.

After she left, I sat in the living room with a glass of wine. The silence of the house was comforting, but it also brought a wave of thoughts. Gabriel had sent a message earlier asking how Miguel was adjusting to the routine, and I replied that everything was going well. Deep down, I knew he wanted to talk more, but I had been avoiding it.

The sound of the doorbell pulled me from my thoughts. I got up, a little surprised to have a visitor so late. When I opened the door, I found Gabriel. He looked more casual than usual, wearing a leather jacket and an expression that mixed fatigue with something else I couldn’t quite identify.

“Hi. Sorry for dropping by unannounced,” he said, holding something in his hand. It was a paper bag.

“It’s okay. Come in,” I replied, opening the door wider to let him in.

“I brought this for you. I thought you might like it,” he said, handing me the bag. Inside was a box of desserts from a bakery I loved.

I smiled, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, Gabriel. Would you like some coffee?”

He nodded, and we went to the kitchen. While I prepared the coffee, I could feel his eyes on me, as if he wanted to say something but was carefully choosing his words.

“You seem calmer,” he finally commented.

“I think I am,” I admitted. “Going back to work helped, and Clara has been a huge relief. Miguel is really happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You both deserve this stability,” he said, his voice sincere.

We sat in the living room, each with a cup of coffee. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was loaded with unspoken questions. Finally, Gabriel broke it.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he said, looking directly at me.

My heart raced, but I kept my expression neutral. “Gabriel, I don’t know if this is the right time for that. We’re finally finding a balance…”

“And that’s exactly why we need to talk about it,” he interrupted. “I don’t want this to remain unresolved between us.”

I sighed, placing my cup on the table. “Alright. What do you want to say?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I knew signaled nervousness. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Isabela. And I know a lot of what happened led us to this point. But since I came back into your lives, I can’t stop thinking about how I still feel something for you.”

I stared at him, surprised by his honesty. Gabriel was always direct, but this vulnerability was rare for him.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, my voice low.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said, leaning forward. “But I want you to know that I’m willing to fight for this. For you. For us.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. There was something liberating about hearing those words, even though I was still processing what they meant. Before I could respond, the sound of Miguel crying came from his room.

I got up quickly and went to him. Miguel was sitting up in bed, his eyes still sleepy.

“I had a bad dream,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“It was just a dream, my love. I’m here,” I said, holding him close.

As I comforted him, Gabriel appeared at the door, watching the scene with a soft expression. After Miguel fell back asleep, I returned to the living room, finding Gabriel still there, as if he had been waiting for me.

“You’re an incredible mother,” he said simply.

I smiled at him, feeling an inexplicable warmth at his compliment. “Thank you, Gabriel. And thank you for… being here.”

He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine.