Soledad drummed her fingers on her phone screen.
She had written and deleted the message three times.
It wasn't complicated. She just had to invite Tomás to lunch on Saturday, as they had done other times. And yet, something inside her made her hesitate.
She pursed her lips. It wasn't that she felt she was doing something wrong, of course not. It was just a lunch between friends. But then, why was she overthinking it so much?
Maybe it was because, before thinking about Tomás, she had received a message from her boyfriend asking if they wanted to do something together that day. And she had responded with a vague excuse, almost without thinking.
And now she was here, writing another message. For someone else.
"There's nothing wrong with it," she told herself softly, with a sigh.
Finally, she pressed the send button and placed the phone face down on the table.
Tomás's reply came a few minutes later. He accepted.
And she smiled, as if she had won something.
Saturday arrived quickly. The restaurant had a cozy feel, with wooden walls that seemed to absorb sound, giving it a special warmth. Soledad arrived first and, without needing to check her watch, knew Tomás would arrive exactly on time.
She saw him enter and, as always, he seemed a little uncomfortable in crowded places. But as soon as he saw her, his expression softened.
"Hello," he said, sitting across from her.
"Hello, punctual as always."
Tomás shrugged and picked up the menu.
"Are you going to order the same as always?"
"Yes."
Soledad smiled.
"I'm going to change it up."
Tomás looked up, as if genuinely surprised.
"Why?"
"Because I like to try new things."
"What if you don't like it?"
"Then I'll remember not to order it again," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"Trying new things is risky," Tomás added.
"I like taking risks."
Tomás looked away; they both knew very well that wasn't true, that she liked new things as long as they weren't dangerous—a new ice cream flavor, a new jacket. There was no risk in that, but rather an underlying cowardice that hurt. Despite this, Tomás shook his head, but in his eyes there was something close to amusement, because she, though she didn't notice it, was happy that way.
The conversation flowed effortlessly as they had lunch. They had seen each other many times at the hair salon, but when they were alone, in a more relaxed setting, the dynamic between them was different. More natural.
Soledad couldn't help but observe him from time to time, noticing the small gestures: the way he arranged his cutlery without realizing it, how he made sure not to talk with his mouth full, the way he frowned when he thought about something serious, how his hand trembled when she took it, how he glanced at her believing she didn't notice—all of it had been burning her chest and increasing her guilt.
He was a mystery, in a way. Even though she knew him so well. Or so she thought.
After eating, they decided to go for a walk.
The icy breeze greeted them as soon as they reached the shore. Winter gave the beach a different feel, more melancholic, more intimate.
Soledad walked with her hands in her pockets, enjoying the sound of the sea. Tomás, beside her, kept her pace, though every now and then he rubbed his hands to warm them.
"You always forget to bring gloves," she commented, amused.
"You always forget to tell me to bring them."
Soledad laughed and shook her head, but held out her hand. Tomás took it shyly, though it wasn't the first time their hands had intertwined.
The walk was peaceful. They were in no hurry to get anywhere. It was one of those moments where silence didn't feel awkward, but served to enjoy each other's company without needing to fill the space with empty words. The sound of the waves accompanied them in an infinite ebb and flow.
Then Tomás spoke.
"I haven't told you, but I'm going to enter a literary contest."
Soledad stopped dead, squeezing his hand tightly.
"What?"
He looked at her fixedly, as if he didn't understand her reaction.
"A literary contest. I'm going to submit something I wrote."
Soledad blinked.
"You write?"
Tomás nodded naturally, feeling her hand loosen its grip until she pulled it away.
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Always," he replied as if it were the most natural thing.
Always.
That word hit her full force.
Soledad remained silent, processing what she had just heard. She looked at Tomás, searching for any indication that he was exaggerating, that it was just a passing hobby. But she didn't find it.
She didn't know what to say.
She had spent so much time with him, had observed him, analyzed him, believing she understood him better than anyone. She knew his ways of speaking, of hesitating, of responding to her, how the corner of his lips would turn up when he was nervous—everything was hers.
But there was something so fundamental about him that she had never seen. And it hurt, it hurt in a way that made no sense.
"Why did you never tell me?" she asked, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Tomás frowned.
"The opportunity didn't arise."
That answer took her breath away, "The opportunity didn't arise," as if it wasn't such an important thing.
Something inside her burned as if fuel had been thrown on it. It bothered her that he wrote, it bothered her that he hadn't told her, suddenly it even bothered her that he looked at her, especially with that look that she knew very well screamed "Why are you angry?" It bothered her because, until that moment, she had believed she knew every corner of his mind. That if there was something in him, she would know it.
And now she realized no, and that... that hurt her in an absurd, definitive way, as if twisting the knife in an open wound.
Tomás noticed something was wrong.
"Soledad...?"
She shook her head.
"It's nothing."
He looked at her, but didn't insist.
They walked a little more, though it wasn't the same anymore. There was something different in the air, something that not even the sound of the sea could dissipate.
Finally, she stopped abruptly; she couldn't bear it anymore. "I'm leaving."
Tomás frowned. "Why?"
"Because I want to."
He tried to stop her. "Soledad, wait, I don't understand what happened."
She swallowed.
"Neither do I."
She walked away without giving him a chance to insist. She didn't want to think about why she was upset. She didn't want to accept what it meant. She didn't want to admit that she had turned down her boyfriend to be with Tomás.
And that now she realized Tomás had a world of his own that she had never been a part of.
Soledad began to walk quickly, moving away, fleeing from him.
Tomás moved behind her and took her arm. "Soledad, wait!"
The cold winter wind scratched his skin when Soledad's voice hit his chest.
"Don't follow me!" she lowered her voice just a little. Her face distorted by anger and bewilderment. She pulled away from Tomás's hand, forcefully shaking her arm. "Don't follow me."
Tomás stood still. Not because he didn't want to reach her, not because he didn't want to run after her and ask what he had done wrong, but because she was the one asking him to stay away, and the anger on her face hurt too much. If it had been up to him, he would have followed her to the end of the world, but not if she wanted him far away.
He clenched his fists tightly, feeling the agitated beats of his own heart reverberate in his ears. The sea behind him continued to crash against the shore with its usual relentless rhythm, indifferent to what had just happened. His breathing was ragged, but not from the wind or the cold, but from something deeper, something he still didn't fully understand.
Soledad walked away with firm steps, her hair swaying to the rhythm of her own internal tempest. She didn't look back once.
And he stayed there. Alone.
It had been a long time since loneliness hurt so much; Tomás felt like he was sinking into a well. It wasn't the kind of loneliness he was used to, the one he could fill with work, with routines, with books. It wasn't the loneliness he had learned to tame over the years. This was different. It was an empty, sharp loneliness, one that stole his breath and left a strange pressure in his chest.
He had tried to share something real with her. Not a game, not a joke, not even that feigned flirtation she seemed to enjoy so much. He had opened a door to the deepest part of his being, to that space he kept for himself, where the words he never spoke took shape in ink and paper. Where he could exist without filters, without pretending to be something more than himself. And she... she had rejected him.
Why?
The question pierced his mind like a thorn.
Tomás looked at the ground, where his feet were sunk in the wet sand. He tried to remember the exact moment everything changed, when Soledad's smile faded, replaced by that expression he had never seen on her face before.
Annoyance.
Frustration.
Pain?
It made no sense.
Soledad had always been the one to push him to talk, to draw him out of his shell. Why then, when he finally showed her something true, did she react like that?
He didn't understand.
What he did understand was how he felt now. The air was freezing, but he didn't really feel it. All he felt was that weight in his chest, that strange sensation of having made a mistake he couldn't correct because he didn't even know what it had been.
He let out a short, joyless laugh.
He always believed that the worst thing he could do was say too much, reveal more than necessary. But now he discovered that the worst was opening up to someone and realizing that, perhaps, that person was never as close as he thought.
The sea roared loudly, as if mocking him. He searched for Soledad with his gaze, who was walking away like an orange dot in the distance. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
Then, unhurriedly, he began to walk in the opposite direction from where Soledad had gone.