Gael walks out of the hall with his head down, not even bothering to look back. No goodbye. No pause. He is just gone.
My stomach twists as I watch him leave. Is it because I came with Gabriel? Because I let someone else stand beside me when he never asked me to? I did not break any rules. He did not invite me. He did not claim me. Still, the way he leaves makes it feel like I did.
Arms slide around me from behind, pulling me into a quick hug. Gabriel. His voice is warm, almost too cheerful.
"Congrats," he says near my ear. "And for the fiftieth time tonight, you look stunning."
"Thanks," I say, but my eyes stay on the doors Gael just walked through. My head is not here.
Gabriel tilts his head, following my stare, but I move first. I pull out my phone, unlock it, stare at nothing. Just something to do with my hands. I sigh and slide it back into my clutch.
"I need some air," I mutter, already heading for the balcony.
The night air hits harder than I expect. Cold enough to make me fold my arms across my chest. I rub at my skin, trying to warm myself.
The door opens behind me. Of course it does.
Gabriel steps out, not pretending he is just passing by. He leans against the railing next to me, close enough that I feel his warmth against the cold.
"You always disappear when it gets crowded," he says.
"I do not disappear," I reply, eyes fixed on the city. "I just need space."
He watches me for a moment, then shakes his head.
"You can say that to everyone else," he says, "but not to me."
I turn, caught off guard by his tone. He is not joking now. His eyes are steady. Serious.
"You think I do not notice?" he continues. "The way you look at him. The way you hold yourself back. But I am not him. I am not going to leave you alone in a room full of people. I am here. And I am not giving up just because you pretend not to see me."
The words land heavier than I expect. I want to argue. I want to shut it down. But he sounds sure, and that makes it harder.
I look down, my arms tightening around myself.
"You do not know what you are saying."
He steps closer, his hand brushing mine on the railing.
"I do," he says. "I have been saying it all night. You look stunning. You are brilliant. And I mean it. Every word."
His hand brushes mine again, slower this time. I should pull away. I do not. The cold is sharp, and his warmth is steady. He studies me like he is trying to understand something he refuses to let go of.
"You keep looking at him," he says quietly. "Even when I am right here."
My throat tightens.
"You do not understand."
"Then explain it," he says. Calm, but firm. Not letting me escape. "Tell me why you are waiting for someone who cannot even say what he wants."
I turn back to the city. The lights below flicker like they are laughing at me.
"It is not that simple."
Gabriel steps closer, his shoulder brushing mine like he is testing how much space I will allow him.
"It really is that simple," he says. "You deserve someone who shows up. Someone who does not leave you standing alone wondering if you said something wrong or did something worse. I am here, Alma. I am not going anywhere."
I hate how much that lands. My chest tightens, and I hug my arms tighter, partly because of the cold and partly because I need something to hold onto. He notices immediately. Of course he does. Without asking, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders like it is the most natural thing in the world.
I want to argue. I do not.
The jacket is warm. It smells like him. Clean, familiar, annoying in how comforting it is.
"You see," he says, softer now, almost amused, "I am terrible at watching you pretend you are fine. I will not let you freeze. I will not let you stand here acting like emotional self-neglect is a personality trait."
I let out a short laugh before I can stop myself. "You make it sound like I am doing this on purpose."
"You are," he replies easily. "You are very committed to suffering quietly."
I finally look at him properly. Not gala Gabriel, not champagne-toast Gabriel. This version is stripped down and serious, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on mine like he has already decided something and is just waiting for me to catch up.
"You should not say these things," I say, quieter now.
"I absolutely should," he says. "Because they are true. I like you, Alma. I have liked you since I realized you never wait for permission to be impressive. I just want to be the person who reminds you of it when you forget."
My throat tightens. I want to disagree. I want to point out every reason this is a bad idea. My mouth refuses to cooperate.
He reaches for my hand, slow and careful, giving me time to pull away. I do not. His fingers wrap around mine, warm and steady, like he is anchoring me without making a show of it.
The silence stretches, but it is not awkward. He squeezes my hand lightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he is grounding himself too.
"I know you," he says with a faint smile. "You will overthink this. You will try to push me away. But I am not leaving. Not tonight. And not later either, if you let me stay."
That is when something inside me finally cracks. I think of Gael walking away without a word. The guessing. The waiting. The constant trying to read between lines that never exist. Then I look at Gabriel, standing right here, refusing to let me disappear into my own head.
I exhale slowly. "You make it sound easy."
"It is," he says. "You just have to stop waiting for someone who cannot choose you and let the person who already has."
"Alma, let's go home," Camilla's voice cuts through the moment like a rescue rope.
Relief floods me, immediate and guilty. She has interrupted something dangerous, something I am not ready to unpack. I slip Gabriel's jacket off and hand it back.
"Thanks," I say.
He takes it, nodding, but his eyes stay on mine like he is waiting for a promise I am not ready to give. I give him nothing.
Camilla grabs my hand, firm and grounding. With my other hand, I collect my clutch and the awards from the table. Daniel appears beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder as if steering me away from a cliff.
Before I step out, I glance back. Gabriel stands alone, champagne glass untouched, staring into space like his mind is somewhere far from the gala. I turn away before I can read too much into it.
The car ride is chaos. Camilla and Juan take the front, Diego, Daniel, and I squeeze into the back. I sit by the window, pressing my forehead lightly against the cool glass, staring up at the stars like they might have answers.
My phone buzzes. I expect Gabriel.
It is Gael.
Hey Princessa, today you looked stunning. I cannot stop thinking about you.
Two photos follow. Candid shots of me at the gala. Too good. Too intentional. My stomach flips in that familiar, irritating way.
Another photo pops up. Gael with a boy I do not recognize at first. His little brother. They are smiling, relaxed, happy.
Then one last message.
Goodnight.
I do not reply. Not yet.
We pull up at my apartment. Juan jumps out first and opens my door with exaggerated politeness, then does the same for Camilla. They are kissing before I can blink. Loudly.
Diego groans. "Do you two need a room, or…?"
Everyone laughs.
Juan ignores him. Daniel leans toward me. "Do not worry. Gael will come to his senses."
Diego, drunk and painfully honest, adds, "Yeah. He actually likes you. He is just scared."
I frown. "Scared of what?"
Juan finally pulls away long enough to answer. "That is his story to tell."
Camilla squeezes my hand, waves goodbye to the guys, and drags me inside. The moment the door closes behind us, the words spill out.
"Gabriel said he likes me."
Camilla freezes. "No."
I blink. "No?"
"Yes. No," she says firmly. "Why him? I do not like him."
I straighten, meeting her gaze. "You do not have to like him for me to date him."
Camilla's expression softens, like she hates that she understands me. She reaches for my hand.
"I know," she says. "Gabriel is kind. Nice. Cool. Even innocent. Which is exactly why I don't trust him. Please don't say yes yet."
"I haven't," I admit. "I just froze. I did not know what the correct response to a full emotional ambush is."
She snorts, unlocks the door, kicks off her shoes, and heads straight for the kitchen like she lives here, which she basically does. Two glasses appear. Champagne follows. Generous pours.
"What's this for?" I ask.
"The awards, dummy," she grins.
I laugh, finally slipping out of my heels like they personally offended me, and clink my glass against hers. We drop onto the couch. The trophies sit on the table in front of us, shiny and accusing, like they are judging my personal life.
"So," I say, "what about Juan?"
Camilla smirks. "Nothing serious. Just making out. But he has feelings. I can tell."
I raise an eyebrow. "Look at you, emotionally irresponsible."
She rolls her eyes and leans closer. "Okay. Be honest. Which one do you like more?"
The question hits harder than it should. My phone buzzes like it knows it has been summoned. I grab it too fast. Camilla notices immediately.
"Oh," she says, already leaning over. "Interesting."
Before I can react, she snatches the phone.
"Camilla—"
"Relax," she says, fingers flying. "I'm helping."
She types: Aww thank you mi rey, these pictures are dope.
Then she takes a picture of us on the couch, trophies very deliberately in frame, sends it, and adds:
Just got home, chilling with Cam watching Colombian shows.
I stare at her like she has lost her mind.
Gael replies instantly.
Oh I love this name. Mi Rey. Also, what happened to that Gabriel guy? I saw you two on the balcony. He was too close. I don't like it.
I take the phone back. My thumbs hover.
It was nothing. I'm tired. We'll talk tomorrow.
Okay, guapas. Buenas noches.
I hesitate, then add: Say hi to your brother. He's cute.
Ha. That's Lucas. Lucas Valdés, he replies.
I'll say hi one day in person. Goodnight.
I send it before I can rethink it.
Camilla watches my face like she's reading subtitles.
"So," she says. "You still want Gabriel?"
I shake my head. "I like him as a friend."
Her smirk returns. "Shocking."
I take a sip of champagne. "Wait. Mi Rey?"
She shrugs. "He calls you Princessa. Rey fits. It's annoying, but it works."
The apartment goes quiet once Camilla disappears into her room. The kind of quiet that lets your thoughts get loud. I stay on the couch, champagne glass half empty, awards still lined up like proof that at least one area of my life makes sense.
My chest feels tight. Gabriel is present. Steady. Refusing to let me disappear.
Gael is distant. Complicated. And somehow still has his fingers wrapped around my ribs without even trying.
My phone buzzes again.
Gabriel.
I hope you got home safe. I meant everything I said tonight.
I lock the screen without replying. I don't trust myself to respond without lying.
Then there's a knock at the door.
I freeze. It's late. Too late.
I open it slowly. Daniel stands there, leaning against the frame like this is casual and not unhinged behavior.
"Couldn't sleep," he says. "Thought I'd check on you."
"At midnight?" I ask.
He shrugs. "You looked distracted."
I let him in. He drops into the armchair like he belongs here.
"Gael's bad at feelings," he says suddenly. "He'll circle forever unless someone forces him to stop."
I clutch my glass tighter. "And Gabriel?"
Daniel smirks. "Gabriel doesn't circle. He dives. One waits until you're gone. The other fights until you give in."
I don't like how accurate that sounds.
My phone buzzes again.
Gael. Still awake?
Yes.
I shouldn't say this, but I miss you already.
My breath catches. Daniel notices immediately.
"Gael?" he asks.
I nod.
He chuckles. "Figures. Just don't let Gabriel convince you he's the safer choice."
I frown. "Why?"
"Because he knows how to perform care," Daniel says. "But you need more than charm."
I stare at him. "What are you really doing here?"
He hesitates. Then sighs. "Gael sent me."
Silence.
"Don't tell him I said that," he adds. "Just… be careful."
He leaves without another word.
I sit alone again. The trophies. The champagne. The phone glowing beside me.
Goodnight, Princessa, Gael texts.
Goodnight, Gael.
I put the phone down, knowing sleep is not happening tonight.
Later, in bed, Camilla snores like she is fighting demons. Loud. Violent. I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my laughter.
My mind drifts back to Gabriel. Why doesn't anyone like him? Why does everyone flinch when his name comes up? He is competent. Polished. Always in control.
Is that the problem?
My phone buzzes again. Unknown number.
"Alma, tomorrow will change everything. Be ready."
My stomach drops. I lock the phone, pull the blanket tighter, and stare into the dark. Camilla snores on, completely unaware. Tomorrow isn't just another workday. Tomorrow is a problem.