CHAPTER 14
1531 Words
Recognition in Disguise
Catherina's breath caught. Her lips opened again, but this time she muttered her own name rather than his. "Catherina." As if reminding herself of who she was, would help her unravel the anarchy in her chest.
The performance ended with an outburst of clapping. The host rushed backstage and grabbed Bruno's arm.
"That was great. You had the entire room spellbound!" He said.
Bruno faked a tight smile, but his mind was already racing. He'd seen her. She had mentioned his name. He was certain of it.
"Excuse me," he mumbled, slipping through the drapes. He couldn't remain hidden. He needed to reach her.
However, Junior had already made his decision in the ballroom.
"Let's go," he said, yanking Catherina's arm.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait—why? The night is not over." She said.
His grip tightened. Though he smiled at spectators, his words were jagged steel. "We are leaving. Now."
She opened her mouth to complain, but he was already dragging her, his hold so tight that it hurt. Students muttered as they watched the event unfold, but no one dared to get between Catherina and Rafael Cortez's kid.
As they approached the doors, Bruno came out of the backstage area. His voice crackled with urgency.
“Catherina!” He called.
She froze.
She turned back, slowly and almost painfully. Their gazes connected once more across the sea of strangers.
Her chest tightened with a flash of memory—rain, giggles and a boy running beside her, his palm brushing hers as he yelled her name with the same breathless intensity.
Her lips quivered. "Bruno," she whispered.
Junior's head jerked in her direction, his rage hardly contained. Before Bruno could get to her, he growled, "Enough!" and dragged her through the doors.
Through tinted windows, the city lights flashed as the Cortez limousine moved softly through the streets. The air within felt heavy and oppressive.
Catherina sat still, her hands shaking in her lap. The music played in her head on repeat, with each note pressing on shut doors in her memory.
Junior sat across from her, his black gaze impenetrable, his tuxedo pristine. He examined her as if she were a puzzle that would crumble in his fingers.
Eventually, he spoke. His voice was calm, but each sentence contained poison. "Who is he?" He questioned.
She flinched. "I… I don't know." She replied.
“You said his name.”Junior insisted.
Her breath shook. “I don’t remember.” She uttered.
Junior leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a sword. “Listen to me, Catherina. That man means nothing to you. He's just a cheap musician looking for your attention." He said.
She opened her mouth to argue, but then stopped . Because deep down, she knew he was lying—not about who Bruno was, but about what she felt. That performance hadn’t been cheap. It had been honest and intimate.
“Enough.” His voice cracked like a whip. Never again mention his name.
The quiet that followed was as heavy as iron.
Bruno was unable to close his eyes in his small Harvard flat. He paced the creaking hardwood floor, the echo of Catherina's whisper haunting him.
“She remembers me,” he muttered into the darkness. “I know she does.”
“But how much?
And why was she still with him?”
The questions pierced into his chest. He imagined her in Junior's grip, her face torn between perplexity and longing, his fists clenched.
He made up his mind by sunrise. He refused to be defrauded by fate once more. Not after years of looking, not after seeing her eyes light up with memories for the first time. He would manage to get in touch with her—before Junior or worse Rafael Cortez, cut off their relationship forever.
Catherina fell into a restless slumber that night.
She dreamt of a golden-lit field. She was younger, a notebook open on her lap, laughter escaping her lips as she penned lines of verse. A little boy beside her strummed a guitar, his smile as dazzling as the sun.
"We'll write our own song," he added, his tone warm. "And no matter where life takes us, this melody will bring us back together."
Her dream-self turned, bringing Bruno’s face into focus.
She gasped awake, her heart pounding. The morning light flooded through her curtains, but her heart raced like if she had sprinted a mile.
That was him. The musician at the prom. The boy of her fantasies. Her spirit recalled the boy, even though her head was pushed to forget.
She mumbled his name, "Bruno," while pressing a shaky hand to her chest.
Junior noticed instantly. At breakfast, her spoon lingered over her cereal, her gaze distant, her lips pressed together as though she were guarding a secret.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” His tone broke through the silence.
Catherina jumped. “What?” She retorted.
“That musician.” He replied.
Her silence betrayed her.
Junior's fist hit the table, rattling the china. She flinched.
“He doesn’t matter! Do you hear me?” He warned with an angry tone.
“You’re scaring me, Junior,” she whispered, her voice fragile.
But instead of melting, his eyes hardened like steel. "Good. Perhaps that will make you listen." He said.
One week later, fate intervened.
Bruno sat at a café near Harvard's Faculty of Law and Criminal Justice, crouched over a notebook and scribbling songs. The location provided him with a peaceful environment in which to reflect.
The café had a subtle scent of cinnamon and roasted beans, and it was a calm, muted place where people talked to each other, pages flipped, and steaming cups clattered gently against porcelain plates. However, the air felt alive to Catherina, weighing heavily on her lungs.
Her heart was beating like a drum. Her palms were wet as she held the book to her chest.
Bruno sat across from her, just a few steps away, with his dark curls falling over his brow and his notebook in hand.
Above the door, the bell jingled. She didn't raise her head until a familiar, gentle voice drifted across the room.
“Catherina”, He called.
Her head snapped upward. She sat near the counter, a book clutched to her chest, her hair loosely wrapped about her shoulders. Alone.
His heart stuttered.
Slowly, cautiously, he rose. His chair scraped the floor.
Catherina turned and suddenly their eyes collided.
She hesitated for a moment. Her face was plastered with fright as her lips parted. The book fell out of her grasp and hit the ground with a thump.
“Catherina,” Bruno breathed.
Quickly, her chest lifted and sank, as though her spirit knew who he was before her head could register it.
“Bruno,” she whispered, voice trembling.
The sound of his name on her lips—it was all he had hoped for.
But fear flashed across her eyes. She looked around, half expecting Junior to emerge from the shadows. Her steps faltered.
“I—I shouldn’t be talking to you” she stammered, edging toward the door.
"Wait," Bruno requested, reaching out but falling short of touching her. "Please. Only five minutes. That is all I am asking.” He begged.
Her palms trembled against the book. Her heart pleaded with her to stay, but Junior's shadow hung over her every thought.
She paused, torn between chains and freedom, between dread and the tug of a memory too powerful to refuse.
And in that fragile, suspended instant, their worlds teetered between rediscovery and destruction.
The café air appeared to thicken around them, and every sound faded into quiet. Bruno fought for this moment in every sleepless night—the moment when she finally whispered his name, not in misunderstanding or in dreams, but with a delicate truth trembling on her lips.
Catherina felt as though her heart had outrun her mind. She didn't remember everything right away, but the warmth in his eyes, the song lingering in her veins, and the way her soul clung to him were undeniably appealing.
Nonetheless, terror tightened its grasp. Junior's shadow spread over her as a warning, reminding her of the implications of making the wrong choice.
Her fingers grabbed the book, her knuckles white. His hand lingered close, desperate but respectful—close enough to feel the pull, distant enough to allow her to make the decision.
Five minutes. That's all he asked.
And in that paused heartbeat, Catherina recognized her decision was no longer about Junior's power or the resurfacing of memories in her nightmares. It was about the truth she felt in that particular moment.
The truth her heart had never forgotten.
Since strings that were silent never really broke. Unnoticed, they waited to sing once more.
And when their trembling but unwavering gazes met, Catherina realized that her next choice would either break her life or release her.
However, she sensed that Junior Cortez and his men were nearby, keeping an eye on her. Deep down, she realized that any false move she made could endanger Bruno or herself.
- Writer
