The mansion's stone façade glowed in the last light of dusk as Esteve stepped from the car. He drew a breath, steadying himself. His father's world was always too polished, too heavy with wealth. This time, though, the weight pressing on him wasn't just the marble walls or the chandelier light spilling onto the gravel. It was the thought of meeting her—the fiancée his father had spoken of with such pride.
The great doors opened, and Gustavo appeared, arms spread wide, his voice booming across the hall.
"Esteve! Finally, my boy!"
They embraced, briefly, formally. Gustavo pulled back, studying him with fond amusement.
"Come," Gustavo said, his tone glowing with excitement. "There's someone I want you to meet."
Her footsteps came first, light against the marble. Then she emerged from the shadows of the drawing room.
Anne.
She was elegant in a silken dress, her beauty startling, sharp enough to unsettle him. Her hair caught the chandelier's light, her lips curved in a precise smile. But it was her eyes that made Esteve pause. Dark, steady, searching. Something in them tugged at a memory, faint and disjointed, like the echo of a dream.
"Esteve," she said, her voice soft yet confident. "I've heard so much about you."
Esteve took her hand. Her skin was cool, delicate, the touch lingering a second too long. His chest tightened with something he couldn't name.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of another night, years ago, in another country. A crowded bar in Madrid, laughter over cheap wine, two strangers talking until dawn, neither brave enough to ask the other's name. A kiss stolen in the shadows. A night that had changed him—his first, hers too, if the nervous tremor in her voice had been real.
But no. That was impossible. That memory belonged to another time, another world. He pushed it away.
Anne smiled politely, tilting her head as though she, too, were searching for something in his face.
"It's good to finally meet you," she said.
"Yes," Esteve managed. His throat was dry. "You too."
Gustavo, oblivious, clapped their shoulders, pride radiating off him.
"My two favorites," he declared. "This weekend will be the start of everything."
Esteve forced a smile, but his heart beat strangely fast. He didn't know why her voice, her eyes, her touch felt like something already written into him. He didn't know why she seemed like someone he had known before.
And Anne, though she kept her composure, found herself thinking the same.