Memories

I was trying to ease the tension between Antony and me, but with every word he spoke, something bubbled up inside me. I had never looked at him that way before, like a man willing to face a heavy night of rain just to save me. It was cute, considering I hadn't even left the house. He seemed tense, so I made some casual remarks to break the ice.

I approached him and deeply inhaled his scent. "So that's why you smell like this?" I joked, making a theatrical grimace. "You're all sweaty, I think you should take a shower." I reached out to remove a leaf that was tangled in his hair, but he quickly grabbed my hand, and our eyes met in a moment of intensity.

His eyes were deep, intense, and now serious. He spoke in a heavy tone, revealing his vulnerability: "I was scared today, Amelia. Scared of losing you." I was surprised by his sincere confession and couldn't help a slight blush rising to my cheeks.

He hurried to justify himself, his voice slightly trembling. "After all, you are my responsibility." But his words touched something inside me, something I didn't know existed until that moment.

Our light touch on our hands lingered there for a few awkward seconds, charged with an electricity that seemed to echo between us. In a desperate attempt to ease the tension that was building up, I quickly got up, pulling away from Antony's warm touch.

"Well, have you seen your new paintings?" I asked, abruptly changing the subject, hoping desperately that he wouldn't notice my sudden change of focus.

Antony raised an eyebrow, puzzled by my sudden train of thought. "What do you mean, my new paintings?" he asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.

I rolled my eyes, trying to appear nonchalant. "The paintings I made for you," I explained, with a wry smile on my lips.

He chuckled, a soft, warm laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "I haven't had a chance to notice, I was too worried about you. And then, I was too relieved to pay attention to my surroundings," he confessed, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that left me breathless.

With a shy smile, I reached out to help him up from the bed. "Let's go... I need to know what you think," I invited, eager to share my creative efforts with him.

He followed me to the office, and as we walked together, I felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation bubbling inside me. I hoped he would like the paintings, but more than that, I hoped they could convey some of what I felt to him. And so, as we entered the office, the air was thick with anticipation.

He seemed inert, observing every detail of my works, his eyes tracing the lines with an intensity that made me nervous. I took a deep breath, trying to control the anxiety that threatened to consume me, as I watched him absorb every detail with palpable concentration.

Then, I asked him to sit down, as I wanted to show him where I came from, I wanted to share with him a piece of my world. A glint of curiosity appeared in his eyes, and with a faint smile he said, "Perhaps this painting will help us find your way back home." That caught me off guard, and for a moment I felt a tightness in my chest. Did Antony want me to leave?

I tried to disguise my reaction, keeping my composure as I showed him the painting. Antony seemed to go through a rollercoaster of emotions before me. First, an expression of surprise and perhaps even a little fear. Then, visible relief spread across his face, as if he had found an answer to a question he didn't even know he was asking.

Curiously, I asked, "What... What do you think?" He responded almost in a tone of genuine relief, "I've never seen a place like this around here..." But he seemed pensive, as if he were reflecting on something important. After a few seconds, he smiled and said, "That means you'll have to stay with me for a little longer." The phrase echoed in my mind, filling me with a mixture of indescribable emotions. And there, in that moment, as I looked into Antony's eyes, I knew I was exactly where I should be.

I think I was staring at Antony for a few minutes, lost in thoughts and emotions swirling inside me. To break the awkward silence, I began to explain to Antony about the buildings drawn before us.

"Well, these are like houses stacked on top of each other," I began, pointing out the details of the drawing. He raised his eyebrows, looking intrigued. "So your people don't have privacy? Do they all live together?" he questioned.

I thought for a moment before responding. "Yes and no," I murmured, trying to find the right words to explain the complexity of my culture to him. I started to show him through the drawing. "Each window here represents a family, or a person living alone, without interference from neighbors," I explained, hoping he would understand the peculiar dynamics of our homes.

However, Antony didn't seem convinced. "Isn't that too small for a family to live in?" he questioned, with a look of doubt.

I smiled, acknowledging the valid point he had raised. "Good point, I agree. Indeed, it's small, but you get used to it," I replied, trying to lighten the situation with a bit of humor.

Then, Antony said something that made me freeze in place. "And do you want to go back to living in this small place?" he asked, his voice laden with concern and curiosity. That question echoed in my mind, making me rethink my own choices and desires. I wasn't sure how to respond because the truth was that my life had changed so much since I met him that I wasn't sure anymore what I wanted.

Tried desperately to force myself to remember something that tied me to New York, some connection that made me want to stay. A relative, a childhood memory... But no matter how hard I tried, the memories seemed to slip away from me, as if they were escaping through my fingers. It was an anguishing sensation, as if I were losing important parts of myself.

Who was my mother? Who were my relatives? Why was I here and not with them? These questions hammered in my mind, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't find the answers. It was as if a veil were covering my memories, making them distant and inaccessible.

"I don't know, Antony," I murmured, my voice laden with sadness and frustration. He seemed to notice my state of mind because he got up and suggested it was late. "We should take a shower, especially you, my artist," he said in a caring tone, pointing to my hands stained with paint.

I nodded in agreement, grateful for his concern. As we headed for the bathroom, I let myself be enveloped by the comforting warmth of the moment, knowing that even if my memories were lost, I still had Antony by my side, taking care of me and helping me face the unknown.