Alejandro
I don’t want to care about her. I don’t care about her. But seeing her so open and vulnerable, the moonlight making her pale face look almost as if it’s made of porcelain, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, I can’t help it. It’s the first time since Pedro’s death that I am not thinking of myself and how it all affected me.
My thoughts are a mess and so are my feelings. It’s a mixture of anger and adrenaline and something else, something I don’t know how to name. All I know is it is related to that woman’s presence, to her shared silence when I needed it the most in my brief moment of weakness. It’s in the warmth coming from her even now, in her semi-smile which she’s putting on like an armour against the world to show it how brave she is when that’s all everyone expects fro
