Olívia

Guillermo
She’s still in my arms, but unusually quiet, and that scares me more than if she were arguing with me.
Olivia is intelligent and sensitive.

What she said about Layla following her mother’s pattern, by rejecting Valentina, I had already considered.
I’ll never admit it out loud, because Olivia has already had her share of pain in life, but nothing in the world will convince me that her biological mother didn’t need very little persuasion to give up one of the daughters. The excuse she gave was that her husband only wanted one child, but maybe she didn’t want two little girls either.

Olivia hasn’t read the entire letter, but I have.
I read and reread it, trying to understand, and in the end, the only thing I could take from it all is that the woman who gave birth to her was as empty as Layla herself.

If Olivia ever finishes the letter, she will know that what made her mother choose her sister over her was the fact that my late wife had red hair—the same hair color as the selfish jerk her mother married.

Can you believe such a thing? First, it’s already unthinkable to choose between one child or the other, and then base that choice on hair color. They wanted the daughter they were going to raise to look like the stepfather to silence society’s gossip.

I pull her even closer into my arms. I wish I could protect her from the pain, but I know it’s impossible, and it wouldn’t be fair either. Suddenly, I feel suffocated and the need to let everything out.

"I never intended to lie to you. I wanted to do the right thing. Allow my daughter to have her aunt, pass on the money that was rightfully hers and that Layla never gave, compensate her in some way for all the injustices you’ve been subjected to. But the moment I saw your photo, the first time I laid eyes on you, my intuition told me that the ones who lost were them."

"Why?"

"Your smile, even through the photograph. You could see how happy you were."

"My mother made me promise I’d live a good life when she was gone. I tried to stay positive."

I kiss her cheek, though I want much more.

"I love that about you, but there’s nothing wrong with crying sometimes."

"Finish telling me about when you met me." She changes the subject.

"I wasn’t ready for you, love. The first twenty minutes I spent in the café, I was knocked out, though I stayed in denial for a while."

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning."

"About the money, I agree. About Nina, I’m sorry, but no. I didn’t know who you were and needed to protect my daughter. As for what happened with us, it wasn’t planned, but I don’t regret it."

"I don’t care about the money, Guillermo. I don’t want anything from that woman. From those women. Keep it for Valentina."

"It’s rightfully hers."

"I’m not for sale. Their sins will have to be accounted for before God. I won’t go back on my decision."

"Alright. We’ll talk about it another time."

I know I should give her space, but I’m afraid of what will happen to us in the future. In my always-planned life, Olivia, the woman I desire for myself, is an uncertainty.

"The more time I spent with you, the more attracted I felt. I wanted you, regardless of how fate placed you in my path."

"Is that why you didn’t make love to me on the day of the brigadeiro celebration? Because you hadn’t told me the truth yet?"

"Mostly because of that, but also because I was already doing a lot of things wrong. When I found out you were a virgin, I wanted you to have a choice. Then you went out with that guy, and I went crazy with jealousy. Since that night, I couldn’t let you drift away, but I also didn’t know what you would do when you found out who Layla was in my life." I lift her face so she looks at me. "I still can’t let you drift away."

She turns to face me.

"I don’t feel connected to her."

"Layla?"

"Yes. Neither of them, actually. To me, they’re strangers. I never knew them in life because neither ever wanted me, so it would be a lie to say that just because I share their blood, I feel any affection. There’s nothing in me toward them but contempt."

Hope starts to play in my chest, but when she lets go and sits in the armchair, putting distance between us, a cold air spreads through the room.
As if a wall of ice has been raised.

"So the two of us…"

"I didn’t say I forgive you."

"I’m not giving up."

"Yes? And how far are you willing to go to prove you love me?"

I walk over to her and kneel in front of her.

"You have no idea."

"Your love is big enough to give me space?"

I try to keep my face expressionless, but inside, I’m terrified.
This was what I feared, that she would push me away.

"How long?"

"I don’t know. I need to think. Maybe it’s better if I quit the hotel."

"No. You have the coffee course next week. I’ll respect your will." Despite everything in me screaming that she’s mine. "I’ve waited for you my whole life. I’ll wait until you’re ready to make a decision."

She looks at her hands.

"I’m very confused. I don’t want to be the second choice in a man’s life. I deserve more."

I stand because otherwise, I won’t be able to fulfill what I promised and give her the time she needs to think.

"Olivia, I know you’re not obligated to believe what I say, but I give you my word that you were never the second choice, but the only one. Until I met you, I had never fallen in love."

She looks away.

"I want to go home. I’ll do what you suggested. I’ll stay away from everything these days to attend the course, and then on the weekend, we’ll talk."



I stop the car in the garage of her building and get out to accompany her to the apartment.

"No need, I can go up alone."

"No. You’re my woman, and I’m not leaving until I make sure you’re safe."

She doesn’t protest, but a heavy silence falls between us as the elevator rises to her floor. When we arrive, I wait for her to open the door. Before she steps in, however, I grab the back of her neck, taking her in a desperate kiss.

There’s so much I want to say, but even going against my nature, after a few seconds, I let her go.