The sky was overcast that morning, and the gray light of dawn tinged the city with a melancholic hue. Tomás adjusted his backpack strap over his shoulder, the bus ticket to the capital carefully folded in his pocket. Only a few hours remained until his departure, but before he left, there was something he had to do. Something more important than packing or arriving on time.
He needed to see her.
The path to Sofía's apartment was familiar. He had walked it many times, with the habit of someone who knows that at the end of the journey, they will find a home that isn't theirs, but shelters them just the same.
He rang the doorbell with a mixture of urgency and restraint. He hadn't announced his visit. He didn't know what he was going to say. He only knew that if he left without seeing her, something within him would remain unfinished.
Sofía opened the door, her hair still disheveled and a cup of coffee in her hand. She wore a loose sweater, the sleeves covering her hands, and her expression was one of surprise at seeing him, but also something deeper. As if she had been expecting him, though she didn't know it.
"So early, Lambert?" she asked with a tired smile.
"I'm leaving today. For the capital," he said, without preamble. "But... I couldn't leave without stopping by to see you."
She stepped aside without saying anything, letting him in. Tomás entered, not looking around much. The warm, familiar air of the apartment welcomed him like an invisible embrace.
"I thought you were leaving later," Sofía said, closing the door softly. She put her cup on the table and looked at him directly.
Tomás nodded.
"I still have time. A little. I wanted to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" she repeated, as if the word tasted bitter.
Tomás shrugged, uncertain.
"I don't know how much this is going to change. The publication. The trip. What comes next. But you were there from the beginning. I was thinking... that if the professor were here, he'd tell me to thank those who helped me get to this point. So... thank you, Sofía. For believing in me. For... everything."
She stood looking at him, her eyes slightly moist.
"I have to thank you too. For not letting me fall again."
Tomás took a step toward her, slowly.
"Can I hug you?"
She didn't respond with words, just nodded and moved closer to him. The hug was long, intense, as if both were clinging to something they knew they couldn't hold on to much longer.
Sofía rested her forehead on his chest, and Tomás tenderly stroked her hair. There was no hurry. There was nothing but the sound of their intertwined breaths, that common rhythm that formed when two people shared the same pain and the same gratitude.
"Do you want me to stay until it's time for me to go?" he whispered.
"Of course," she replied, without pulling away.
They sat together on the sofa, without turning on the TV, without checking the clock. He took her now-cool coffee cup and took a sip, as if it were his own. She rested her head on his shoulder, in silence.
When it was time to leave, Tomás slowly stood up. Sofía accompanied him to the door.
"Will you write to me?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"Every day, if you let me," he said, smiling.
She took his hand for an instant and squeezed it, then released it, her gaze laden with something she dared not say.
"Good luck, Tomás."
He nodded, took a step into the hallway, but then turned back.
"Can I...?"
Sofía was already lifting her chin, her forehead offered. He leaned in and kissed that spot as many times before, but this time it was different. This time, Tomás closed his eyes for a long instant. And when he pulled away, he whispered, his voice broken:
"Thank you for being my most beautiful season."
She didn't answer. She just closed the door carefully, so he wouldn't see her cry.
And Tomás descended the stairs with firm steps, his heart both shattered and full at the same time.
Because sometimes, to love is to know how to leave.
And other times, it's to know how to stay... in someone's memory.
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Sofía leaned her forehead against the door as soon as it closed. Her fingers still trembled. Not from the kiss on her forehead, not from the words Tomás had whispered before leaving, but from everything they hadn't said.
She knew he'd only be gone a few days, that it was a short trip, that he'd return. But that didn't make the thought of his absence any easier. Because those days would stretch like a taut rope between them, laden with what hadn't happened, with what she hadn't allowed herself.
She turned slowly, observing the apartment in silence. Everything was the same. The sofa still held the warmth of their bodies together, the coffee cup remained on the table, barely touched. But Tomás's absence filled the place as if he had taken the air with him.
She walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside slightly. She saw him leave the building, his backpack on his shoulder, walking with determined steps towards the station. He didn't look back. And she was grateful for that. If he had, she probably would have run to stop him.
"Stupid," she murmured, with a moist half-smile on her lips.
Because Tomás was all of that: clumsy, stubborn, good, generous... and, without knowing it, he had quietly occupied every corner of her life. As if he had slipped beneath her skin, until he became part of her routine, of her way of existing.
She sank onto the sofa with a sigh and closed her eyes. There were no more excuses to keep denying what she felt. She could no longer tell herself it was gratitude, or simple affection, or the result of shared sadness.
It was love.
It was what formed in her chest every time she saw him cook for her. It was what tightened her throat when he took her hand without asking permission. It was what had made her cry silently the night before, after he kissed her forehead with more tenderness than she could bear.
But it was a love that could have no name. That should have no space.
Because if she allowed it, if she let it grow, she knew she would cling to him. And she couldn't do that to him. Not after she had started to fly again.
In a few days, the results of the contest she had entered would be known. In a few days, she might have to leave the country. Everything could change.
"Just a few days," she whispered, as if that would comfort her.
But she already knew those days would be the longest.
Because Tomás hadn't just left to receive an award. He had taken something of her with him.