The blare of buses and car horns on the avenue felt unnervingly familiar, as if the city had been waiting for my return—even if only for a few hours. I wasn't planning to stay. Had no reason to. But paperwork waits for no one: unfinished documents, signatures left pending before I'd left.
Walking with my folder tucked underarm, that familiar ache twisted in my gut. I don't want to run into anyone. Don't want to look back. Just sign, deliver, vanish. That was the plan. But cities, like people, have memories. And sometimes they dredge up what you thought you'd buried.
I was rounding the corner to the notary's office when I saw him. No mistaking that silhouette. Saval, phone in hand, distracted, walking the opposite direction. His headphones were on—probably mid-call. He paused, glanced up, and our eyes locked. The world seemed to freeze.
—Antonella... —he murmured, like he couldn't believe it.
I inhaled sharply, ready to stride past, but his steps cut me off.
—Didn't expect to see you here. Thought you'd... never come back.
—I haven't come back —I said, voice unsoftened—. Just here for paperwork. That's it.
He pocketed his phone, studying me like he was searching for traces of the person he'd known. His expression held surprise, nostalgia, maybe even guilt.
—It's been months. —Saval swallowed—. How've you been?
How've I been? What an empty question.
—Been away. Been quiet. That's enough.
Silence thickened between us, heavy as a wall. I wanted the conversation to die there, but knew better. He always needed answers, even when he didn't want to hear them.
—Listen, Antonella... I know what happened was hard on everyone, but—
—No —I cut him off—. Don't. Don't try to justify the unjustifiable. I didn't come to relive the past. I came to tie up loose ends.
His jaw tightened, holding back words he'd probably rehearsed for months. I wasn't giving him the chance. But there was something I needed to say, even if it stung.
—Santiago wasn't the only one with unfinished business... —my voice dropped to a whisper—. Be careful who you trust.
He stiffened, brow furrowing like he didn't—or wouldn't—understand.
—What's that supposed to mean? —he asked cautiously.
—You'll figure it out. Or you won't. Not my problem anymore.
I turned to leave, but his hand twitched up, fingertips barely grazing my arm. He didn't grab me, didn't stop me, but that ghost of contact sent echoes of a past I'd shed shuddering through me.
—Antonella, wait... —his voice cracked, almost desperate—. I don't want it to end like this, with warnings and distance.
How else could it end?
—It did end, Saval. Months ago. —I met his eyes, calm I didn't feel steadying my voice—. Just open your eyes. Not all wolves bare their fangs.
His lips pressed into a bloodless line. I wanted to believe my words left fractures in his certainty. But safeguarding him wasn't my burden anymore.
One step back. Then another. The city's noise rushed back into my ears, reminding me I was just a passerby here.
As I walked away, I thought: I didn't come to reopen wounds. I came to warn—even if I don't know why I still care if he walks into the same traps.
At the corner, I glanced back once. Saval stood frozen, hands shoved in pockets, staring at the ground like he carried some invisible weight.
I exhaled. Not my battle. Not anymore.
The city's chaos swallowed me whole, erasing the echo of that encounter. Whether our paths would cross again didn't matter. My return wasn't a homecoming—just a reminder: some things never truly end. They just lie in wait.
And sometimes, all it takes is one look to make them breathe again.