The screen lit up suddenly, breaking the silence.
Althéa.
The name appeared, bright, almost innocent.
Catarina remained motionless for a few seconds before picking up.
"Hey, finally!" said Althéa's cheerful voice on the other end of the line. "I thought you'd forgotten me!"
Catarina smiled despite herself.
That tone... light, sincere.
She had missed it so much.
"I was just tired," she whispered. The trip, the snow... all of it.
"Tired enough to leave without saying goodbye?"
Althéa's laughter sounded sweet, but behind it, there was something else.
A note of incomprehension.
Of hurt.
"Oh, that... yes. Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up."
"Catarina, it was nine o'clock at night, you could have waited until the next day."
"Yes, but... I don't know, I wanted to avoid saying goodbye. You know I hate that."
A silence. Light, but enough to shake the facade.
"My dad thought you were acting strange," Althea finally said. "He asked me if you were okay."
Catarina's heart skipped a beat.
Her throat tightened.
"Your dad?"
"Yes. He said you seemed... distant. And that you left as if you'd seen a ghost."
Catarina gave a nervous laugh.
"Maybe I did."
"Seriously, Cat."
Her voice had softened.
Almost worried.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?"
Catarina closed her eyes.
Tell her everything?
Yes. If only that were possible.
"I know," she replied simply. "It's just... stuff at home, you know. Nothing serious."
"Are you sure?"
"I promise."
Silence fell again.
But this time it was heavy, stretched between them like a fragile string.
"I believe you," Althea finally said, even though it was clear she didn't believe a word of it.
"Thanks."
"Well, I'll let you rest. But next time, no disappearing acts, okay?"
"Okay," Catarina smiled.
"And... you'll come back, right?"
Catarina hesitated.
"Yes. Maybe."
"Promise?"
She took a deep breath.
"I promise."
But the word tasted like a lie.
When the call ended, the screen remained lit for a moment.
Catarina's reflection danced on it, pale and exhausted.
She put the phone down on the table and sighed.
Then, without thinking, she opened the last recorded conversation.
An unnamed number.
Their last night, their last words.
She read them again, one more time.
And for the first time, the letters seemed foreign to her.
As if this story no longer belonged to anyone.
She turned off the phone and placed it face down.
Then, in the dark, she whispered:
"Althéa... if only you knew."
And once again, silence answered her instead.