We were sitting outside a café at a small round metal table, watching my best friend practically murder Iztli with her eyes… and him returning the look with something cold, disdainful—almost challenging.
I was in the middle.
Literally.
—Izel… when did you meet this guy? —Iris asked in a sweet, almost innocent voice.
The shift was so sudden it made me sweat.Just seconds ago she looked ready to throw her coffee in his face… and now she was smiling like we were at a family gathering.
—Well… he's the grandson of a friend of my grandmother's —I replied, trying to sound casual.
Iris tilted her head.
—Your grandma had friends? I thought it was just those three weird old men who play dominoes with her.
—I thought so too… but apparently not.
—Hmmm… —she murmured softly—. How curious that he didn't help when you needed it most…
The comment was low. Almost unnoticeable.
But not to me.
Iris
Iris had been my only friend for the past three years.
When I left university, my old friends slowly disappeared. It wasn't dramatic—they just stopped calling. Stopped inviting me. Stopped replying.
That was when I met Iris.
She worked at a café. I walked in one day with dark circles under my eyes, exhausted, counting coins for the cheapest coffee on the menu. She watched me for a few seconds… and then gave me a larger one "just because."
That's how it started.
Short chats.Then longer ones.Then shared shifts.And eventually, I was working at the same café with her.
Her family was well-off. Slightly rich, as she liked to say.But their daughter was "a mess." She switched majors, quit things halfway, argued with her parents. So they made her work to "straighten her out."
Ironically, when her father met me, he started saying I had calmed her down. That ever since she hung out with me, she seemed more stable. They even offered to pay for my grandparents' medication when they found out they were sick.
I refused.
It was too expensive.
And I didn't want to feel indebted.
Even when we went out, Iris insisted on paying for everything. Sometimes they gave me things—a desk, materials, clothes. They treated me like another daughter. Iris didn't mind. She had always wanted an older sister.
I don't know when she became so close.
So… attached.
The day I told her I was quitting the café, she cried so hard I thought she might faint.
—So you had time to find a new best friend… but not to text your best friend? —she suddenly said.
A chill ran down my spine.
Iris was a good person.
But she was also possessive.
—I'm sorry… —I murmured—. I've been busy with my new job and… it slipped my mind.
—Mmm…
Without warning, she leaned in and kissed my cheek. Then another one—closer to my lips.
—It's fine —she said with a smile—. I'm glad you're doing well. I understand that you forgot… but next time, don't forget, okay?
She wrapped herself around my arm tightly.
I felt heat rise to my face.
And then I noticed something.
While she did all that… Iris was looking at Iztli and smiling mockingly.
—Ahem —he interrupted.
I looked up.
The expression on his face wasn't his usual one.
Not sarcasm.Not indifference.
It was cold.
—So you've started accepting bodyguards now? —Iris mocked.
—Don't you think you should give her some space? —he said, gently pulling me toward him and placing his arm over my shoulders—. Kid, let the adults talk.
—WHO ARE YOU CALLING A KID?! —Iris exploded.
I had no idea where to look.
Iris was pressing me against her chest.Iztli was holding my shoulders firmly.They weren't pulling me… but they weren't letting go either.
People at the café started whispering.
I was bright red.
—ENOUGH! —I stood up abruptly.
I switched seats and sat across from them, leaving space between both of them.
—What do you think you're doing? You're making a scene.
They both tried to speak at the same time.
—No. —I raised my hand—. Silence.
I exhaled, exhausted.
I explained to Iris—leaving out everything supernatural—about my grandmother's friend, the new job, the conversation that made me go back to school.
Iztli stayed quiet, watching.
—Then I'll study the same thing as you —Iris said firmly.
—No —I replied immediately.
—Why not?
—Because you get bored studying. You hate research. You like parties. I don't see you as a journalist.
Iris puffed out her cheeks.
—But I don't like business administration.
—Then pick another major.
She didn't answer.
She pulled out her phone and started searching intensely.
Seven minutes of awkward silence passed.
—Iris…
—DONE! —she exclaimed, cutting me off—. I'll study photography and cinematography.
—What?
—Look.
She showed me her phone.
Photos.
Of the café.Of the street I walked down after work.Of me—without me noticing.
They were good.
Very good.
She had captured light, shadows, small moments I had never even noticed.
—I like taking pictures —she said more calmly—. And we'll share some core classes. I won't be far.
I looked at her for a few seconds.
—Will your parents let you?
—I'm already enrolled —she replied proudly—. They just asked what day you're coming over for dinner.
I sighed.
That was her.
Impulsive… but sincere.
We kept talking until she had to leave for work—just like me. She left, but not before throwing one last challenging look at Iztli.
We were walking toward the station when, without warning, Iztli stepped behind me.
And wrapped his arms around me from behind.
—What are you doing? —I asked, confused.
—Nothing. Just marking territory.
—What?
—If I leave my scent, they'll know who you belong to.
I laughed.
It was uncomfortable to be held like that. We weren't that close yet.
But his answer was so absurd I couldn't help it.
—And who exactly do I belong to? —I asked playfully.
He leaned slightly toward my ear.
—Mine.
His voice was low.
Calm.
No laughter.
And for some reason… that time, I didn't laugh.
A small knot formed in my chest.
I didn't know if it was embarrassment.
Or something else.