Gael goes back to the living room, and I follow a few minutes later with a tray of juice and biscuits. Mila is curled against him, her tiny fingers tangled in his hand. She looks up at him with wide eyes, innocent and serious.
"If you are Alma's boyfriend," she says softly, "please don't break her heart. She cries a lot when Mama and Papa fight."
My throat tightens. I clear it loudly, forcing a smile as I set the tray down. "Mila, stop."
She tilts her head, stubborn. "Is it not true?"
I ignore her, pouring juice into glasses, handing out biscuits. I sit next to Daniel, needing distance from Gael's gaze. In Spanish, I whisper to Daniel, "Acabamos de besarnos." We just kissed.
Gael overhears. I see the smile tug at his lips, like he wanted Daniel to know.
Daniel leans closer, curious. "How did it feel?"
I dodge, shaking my head. "I don't think it will happen again."
Gael's smile fades. His frown is sharp, heavy.
The door slams. My father, Hector, stumbles in, drunk. His eyes dart around the room, suspicious. "Why is everyone here? Who are you? Cops?"
I stand quickly. "They're my friends. From Barcelona."
His gaze lands on Gael, then Daniel. "Is that black car yours? So you're rich."
Gael rises, calm, respectful. "Yes, the car is ours. But the money is our parents', not ours. I can't say we're rich."
I glance at him, surprised. The words feel like they're for me, though I can't be sure.
Hector sneers. "If you think bringing them here will change my mind about marrying you to Gibz, consider your plan failed."
My stomach drops. Gibz. The name alone makes me sick.
Gibz is the biggest drug dealer in our hometown. He dropped out of school, drowned himself in cocaine, abandoned by his parents. He makes money selling poison, and somehow, he gets along with Hector. He's wanted me since we were kids. Mama hates him. I hate him. But Papa… Papa sees him as opportunity.
I look down, disappointment heavy in my chest. It feels like defeat.
Daniel and Gael watch me, sympathy in their eyes. I wipe my tears quickly, ignoring them. "Do you need anything, Papa?"
He waves me off. "Mila and Mateo will go to their aunt's after visiting Marisol. You know where you'll go. I'll have guests."
Guests. I roll my eyes. Random women, nothing more.
I take Mila and Mateo to shower and pack. Gael offers to drive us to the hospital. Hector shrugs, unbothered, disappearing into his room.
We load the car. Daniel sits in the back with the kids, forcing me into the passenger seat beside Gael. Silence fills the drive. I breathe out loudly, remembering the kitchen kiss, the way his lips felt. Gael glances at me, observing every movement.
At the hospital, Mama is watching Jimmy Fallon, laughter faint on her lips. When she sees us, her face lights up. "¡Mis hijos!" My kids!
She hugs us, kisses our foreheads. Then she notices Gael and Daniel.
"These are my friends," I say.
Mama smiles warmly, hugging them too. She asks where they're from.
"Barcelona," Gael answers. "Gael Valdés."
Her eyes widen. "Valdés? Isabel… is she your mother?"
Gael nods.
Mama's smile softens with nostalgia. "We were friends in Sevilla, before I moved here. We drifted after my marriage."
They talk easily, like old friends rediscovered. Gael and Daniel pay the hospital bill. Mama is grateful, though she has two more nights before discharge.
Visiting hours end. We leave fruit by her bed, kiss her goodbye. "Say hi to Isabel," Mama tells them.
We drop Mila and Mateo at their aunt's. Mama had asked where I will stay. I lied, said I will figure it out. I am still thinking where i will stay tonight since Camilla is in Barcelona. Oh how I wish she was here.
In the car, Gael turns to me. "Stay at our hotel tonight. You have nowhere else."
I hesitate. The thought of being alone with him terrifies me. Daniel adds, "It's already dark. Just come."
I sigh, defeated. "Fine."
At the hotel, I ask where I can freshen up. Gael shows me his room. Daniel, exhausted, collapses into his own, door wide open. Gael even removes his shoes, tucks him in. I watch quietly, my heart aching. He's gentle in ways I didn't expect.
I shower, slip into my pyjamas, ridiculous duck prints. I mutter to myself, "Did I leave my lotion? Urgh."
Gael hears. "Use mine." He hands it to me, then laughs. "Ducks? Really? How old are you, nine?"
"Shut up. Just give me the lotion."
He smirks. "You have a hot body."
I freeze. "Did you peep while I was bathing? Weirdo."
He shakes his head. "No. At the beach."
"Oh." My voice is small.
He steps closer, desire in his eyes. My heart stumbles. "I can't stop thinking about the kiss. I didn't know you were a good kisser."
I deflect, sarcastic. "Didn't I tell you I work part‑time at a strip club? I used to make out with men."
He laughs. "You're sarcastic as always." His hand brushes my arm. I don't pull away.
Gael's lips press against mine again, deeper this time, his breath hot against my skin. My body trembles as his hands slide along my waist, pulling me closer. I feel the strength in him, the restraint he tries to hold, and it makes me ache even more.
I tug at his quarter zip sweater, pulling it over his head, my fingers brushing against his chest. His skin is warm, his heartbeat strong beneath my touch. He exhales sharply, eyes locked on mine, desire burning in them.
He hesitates at the hem of my pyjamas, his fingers lingering, unsure. I meet his gaze, my chest rising fast, and I take the first move. I peel the fabric away, letting it fall, my heart racing as his eyes trace every inch of me.
His mouth finds mine again, urgent, hungry. The kiss is fire, consuming, our breaths tangled. He lowers me onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, heavy and certain. I arch beneath him, my hands sliding across his back, pulling him closer, needing more.
I roll him over, straddling him, my hair falling around us like a curtain. His hands grip my thighs, his lips trailing along my neck, each touch sending shivers down my spine. I kiss him hard, desperate, tasting the heat of him.
He shifts again, turning me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Our mouths crash together, our bodies moving in rhythm, every kiss deeper, every touch more reckless.
I feel the spark ignite, wild and unstoppable. His hands stroke my hair, his lips devour mine, and I give in completely. My toes curl, my body alive with sensation, my heart pounding so loud I think he can hear it.
In that moment, there is no fear, no hesitation. Only us. Only the fire we cannot put out.
I wake to the sound of his voice.
"Good morning, princessa."
The words are deep, mesmerizing, and they melt through me before I can even think. I turn my head, and Gael is looking at me with that quiet intensity that makes my chest ache. For a moment, I forget everything else.
We don't leave that morning. Instead, we shower, change, and decide to spend the day together. When we pick up Mateo and Mila, their faces light up, and suddenly the heaviness I've been carrying feels lighter.
At the mall near the beach, Gael takes Mateo to the gaming section. I watch them from a distance, Gael leaning down, teaching him how to play, his patience surprising me. Mateo laughs, his eyes wide with excitement, and I realize how easily Gael fits into this moment.
Meanwhile, Daniel, Mila, and I wander through the shops, trying on silly hats, sharing ice cream, laughing until our stomachs hurt. For the first time in weeks, I feel like a girl again, not just a daughter weighed down by chaos.
That evening, Mama calls. Her voice is soft but steady. "Alma, I will be discharged early."
Papa hasn't visited her once. The thought burns, but I push it aside. We gather together Gael, Daniel, the kids, and me and go to the hospital. When Mama sees us, her smile is radiant. We take her out for late lunch or early dinner I don't even know how to refer to it, and for a while, it feels like we are a normal family.
Gael and I walk side by side afterward, our steps falling into rhythm. I feel his presence beside me, strong and grounding. Behind us, Mama watches, her smile tender, as if she sees something I don't want to admit.
Later, Gael tells her, "We will leave tomorrow for Spain."
Mama nods, grateful. She thanks them for handling the bill, her voice thick with emotion. Gael leaves her some cash. She refuses at first, polite, but he insists until she accepts. She blesses him, her words soft and sincere.
That night, after they drop us off, I lie awake, restless. I pick up my phone and text Camilla, telling her everything. She replies instantly, excitement spilling through her words. "I'll wait for you. I have good news too."
In the morning, Daniel calls. His voice is calm. "We're at the airport, almost boarding. Going back to Barcelona."
I wish them journey mercies, my heart heavy but grateful.
I stay with my family for four more days. Those days are filled with warmth I didn't know I needed. Mama is home, smiling again, and for once the house feels alive.
Papa comes back one evening with flowers and chocolates, his steps unsteady but his eyes softer than usual. He hands chocolates to each of us, even Mama. She accepts, though her smile is cautious.
Deep down, I know he loves her. I just never understood why love in this house always had to fight, why it always had to bleed before it could breathe.
For now, I let myself enjoy the sweetness, even if I know it will not last.
I walk down the street with my headphones blasting Maluma, the rhythm drowning out the noise of the world. My mind drifts, but then I see him. Gibz. Leaning against a wall, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes sharp and predatory.
He smirks when he notices me. "So… I saw those two handsome men around here the past few days. Friends of yours?"
I stiffen, my stomach twisting. Gibz always has eyes everywhere. His reach stretches across this town like invisible strings, pulling everything into his control.
"They're just friends," I say flatly, not wanting to give him more.
He chuckles, the sound low and unsettling. "Barcelona boys, huh? Careful, Alma. You know I always keep watch."
I don't answer. I keep walking, my music louder, trying to erase his voice from my head.
At the park, I pause, watching kids skateboarding. The sight pulls me back to memories of Camilla and me sneaking out, escaping the weight of home, skating until our legs burned. For a moment, I smile.
A little girl sits beside me, clutching a small bike. Her eyes are wide, curious. "Can you teach me how to ride?"
Her innocence disarms me. I nod. "Of course."
She grins. "Me llamo Ana."
I smile back. "Soy Alma."
We laugh together, and I notice her pink sweatsuit, her long brown hair, and the cutest smile I've ever seen. We start the lesson, her laughter filling the air. When she grows bored, I offer ice cream. We lie on the grass, watching the sky, the sweetness melting on our tongues.
Ana turns to me. "Why have I never seen you around?"
"I live in Barcelona, Spain," I explain.
Her eyes widen with excitement. "Spain? How is it there?"
"It's great," I say softly. "I have a lot of friends there. I can't wait to go back." My thoughts drift to Gael, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
Ana interrupts, her voice curious. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
I hesitate. The memory of that night with Gael burns in me, but I don't know what it means. I don't know where I stand in his life. "No… not really."
A woman's voice cuts through the air. "Ana! Ana!"
Ana jumps up, running to her mother. Marga is stunning — her skin glowing, her brown hair cascading in waves down her back. She wears a short black dress and a leather jacket that fits perfectly, her presence commanding.
Ana hugs her tightly, then pulls me forward with her bike. "Mama, this is Alma. She's very nice. She's from Spain."
Marga smiles, shaking my arm gently. "Nice to meet you, Alma. You have a beautiful name. Thank you for looking after Ana."
I nod, returning the kindness. "It was my pleasure."
Ana waves as they walk toward their car, but then she breaks free, running back to hug me. "Hope to see you soon."
I smile, hugging her back. "Me too."
Her mother gives me a polite smile, and they leave.
I walk home, headphones back in, Maluma's voice filling my ears. His songs make me forget this crazy world, even if only for a moment. My steps quicken. I need to pack. Spain is waiting, and so is everything I left behind.