Ámbar stayed in the garden a little longer after Mónica left.
She wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were dry, her throat tight, as if her body had used up all the tears it had available. The iron bench was cold against her back. The garden remained immaculate, oblivious, as if it hadn't registered what had just happened there.
She thought of Sharon. About what had been said and what had been left unsaid. Above all, she thought about that phrase Mónica had left floating in the air without imposing it:
When you're ready, look.
She didn't know exactly what it meant. She only knew that something had started to move and that there was no way to put it back in its previous place.
She got up slowly and went into the house; the interior of the Benson mansion was silent.
Not a tense silence, but a strange, uninhabited one.
Alfredo's absence was felt in the smallest details: no comments from the armchair, no unnecessary instructions, no presence marking his territory.
Ámbar walked aimlessly until she stopped. She sat down for a moment, her hands clasped together, breathing deeply.
For the first time in a long time, she didn't know what to do next.
───Ámbar.
The voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
Luna was standing next to Matteo. They hadn't been looking for her. They had simply found her.
───Sorry,───said Luna.───We didn't want to scare you.
"You didn't scare me," Ámbar replied. "I was... nothing. Just thinking."
Matteo nodded respectfully.
"You look tired," he said. "If you want to be alone, we understand."
Ámbar shook her head.
"No. Thank you."
There was a brief silence. Not uncomfortable. Honest.
Luna looked around, as if only then becoming fully aware of the space.
"Do you know what's happening to me?" she said. "The house is beautiful... but it feels huge without our grandfather."
Ámbar looked at her.
"Yes," she replied. "I feel that way too."
Luna hesitated for a second.
"Matteo and I were thinking..." She paused, searching for the words. "We were going to have a light meal. Nothing formal. And... I don't know. Maybe it would be nice to do it together. So that everything doesn't feel so empty."
Matteo smiled slightly.
"No speeches," he clarified. "No solemnity."
Ámbar watched them. The naturalness. The care. The invitation without obligation.
───Sounds good ───she said at last───. Thank you.
Luna smiled, relieved.
───Great. I'll prepare something for the three of us then.
When she was alone, Ámbar took her cell phone out of her bag.
She dialed a number she knew by heart.
───Hello? ───Simón answered right away.
───It's me ───she said───. I'm fine.
───Are you sure?
───Yes. Tired... but fine.
There was a brief pause.
───Luna invited me to lunch here ───she continued───. With Matteo. So the mansion wouldn't be so lonely.
Simón smiled on the other end, she knew without seeing him.
"Sounds perfect," she said. "Let me know later how you are and what happened with Sharon, okay?"
"Yes.
I'm thinking of you," he added softly.
"Me too, love."
She hung up.
Ámbar took a deep breath. She didn't have all the answers. She wasn't even sure of the questions.
But she was no longer completely alone in the silence.
And, for now, that was enough.
Lunch was simple, almost improvised.
A warm salad, freshly sliced bread, water with lemon slices. Nothing that could replace Alfredo's long lunches (with unnecessary comments and heavy silences). This was something else. Lighter. More fragile, too.
"Simón is covering for me at the Roller today," Ámbar said as she set the table. "I left everything ready for him so it wouldn't be too complicated."
Luna smiled.
"He's always that supportive, isn't he?"
"Always," Ámbar replied without hesitation. "Even when I'm feeling down, he helps me."
Matteo nodded, chewing slowly.
"That's not so common," he said. "Especially when things get tough."
They ate in silence for a few seconds. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was natural.
"And you?" Luna asked. "How are you today?"
Ámbar put down her fork. She hesitated slightly. She hadn't planned on saying it out loud... but there it was.
"I went to see Sharon this morning."
Luna looked up immediately. Matteo did too.
"Really?" she said softly. "I didn't know you were going."
"I didn't tell anyone," Ámbar clarified. "It was... spontaneous."
There was a brief, expectant silence.
"And how did you find her?" Matteo asked carefully.
Ámbar exhaled slowly.
"Bad," she said. "Very bad. Confused. Mixing up times, names..." She paused. "Saying things that hurt... even though you know they don't come from a healthy place."
Luna looked down for a second.
"It must be really hard for you."
"It is," Ámbar admitted. "Because I love her. And because I know who she was... but she's not always herself anymore."
She clasped her hands on the table.
"That's why..." She looked up at Luna. "I wanted to ask you something."
Luna looked at her, attentive.
"Have you ever thought about visiting her?"
Matteo remained still. Luna took a second to respond.
"Yes," she said finally. "I thought about it."
Ámbar held her breath.
"But I didn't," Luna continued. "And it's not because I don't love her."
"I know," Ámbar said quickly.
"It's just that..." Luna searched for the words. "Sharon was always a difficult figure for me. Even before she got sick. And seeing her like that... I don't know if it would do me any good. Or her."
Ámbar nodded, understanding.
"Sometimes distance is also a form of care," Matteo added.
"Exactly," said Luna. "I'd rather remember her as she was. Not expose myself to something I wouldn't know how to handle."
Ámbar looked down.
"I understand," she murmured. "I just wanted to know."
Luna reached out across the table and touched her hand.
───Just being there is enough, Ámbar. Really.
Lunch ended without any more heavy words. They cleared the plates. The simple gesture of sharing had served its purpose.
When Ámbar picked up her bag to leave, the sound of footsteps could be heard.
───Are you leaving already?
Mónica appeared at the door, keys in hand.
"Yes," Ámbar replied. "I was going to take a taxi."
Mónica shook her head.
"No way. I'll take you."
Ámbar hesitated slightly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," said Mónica. "Besides... I could use getting out."
Ámbar accepted with a small, grateful smile.
The Jam & Roller was slowly starting to empty. The music kept playing, but softer, as if tired. The wheels no longer squealed as much against the floor, and the air had that end-of-day smell: old coffee, disinfectant, and something sweet that no one could ever identify.
Simón finished closing the cash register and stretched his arms.
───Done ───he said───. We survived.
───Don't celebrate too soon ───Jazmín replied from the counter───. You still have to check the storage room.
Simón looked at her.
───That wasn't in the emotional contract.
───It's in the real contract ───Emilia clarified, putting some papers away with surgical precision───. Page three. Small print.
───You read the small print? ───Jazmín asked, horrified.
───Always ───Emilia replied───. In Mexico, if you don't read it, you get scammed.
───Ah... ───Jazmín nodded, convinced───. Here too, but with more smooth talk.
Simón laughed as he headed towards the storage room and returned a few seconds later.
───All in order. No rogue skaters, no alien invasions.
───Thanks for covering for Ámbar today ───said Jazmín, lowering her tone a bit───. It was obvious she needed it.
Simón nodded.
───Yeah. It was a long day.
Emilia watched him for a second.
───She's going to be fine ───she said, straightforward───. But you did the right thing staying.
Simón smiled, sincerely.
───Thanks.
He put on his jacket and grabbed the keys.
───Well... I'm off. See you tomorrow.
───Go ahead ───said Jazmín───. And let them know the Jam & Roller is still on. Miraculously.
───Thanks, chaos team ───he replied, raising his hand.
When Simón left, the silence hung for a moment
Jazmín began to clean the counter with exaggerated movements.
"What a day, isn't it?"
"Normal," Emilia replied. Just a little more emotional than usual.
────Uh-huh────Jazmín glanced at her out of the corner of her eye───. You say that as if feelings did not exist.
"They exist," Emilia corrected. I just don't leave them lying around.
Jazmín snorted.
"I do." Then I stumble.
Emilia smiled slightly and approached to help her arrange some cups. In a clumsy move, Jazmín bumped her elbow into one of them.
"Oh, sorry.
"Don't worry," Emilia said, grabbing the cup before it fell. I already have a measure of you.
"How?"
"Unpredictable reflexes," he explained. They require constant attention.
Jazmín stared at her, confuse
───Was that an insult?
───No ───Emilia replied───. It was a... useful observation.
Jazmín tilted her head.
───Oh. Well. Thanks... I guess?
Emilia put the cup back in its place and wiped her hands with a napkin.
───Whenever you want, I can show you how to properly close the coffee maker ───she said───. That way it won't try to kill you.
───Does that mean spending time together?
───It means survival ───Emilia replied───. But we can pretend it's just living together.
Jazmín smiled, half nervous.
───You're... weird.
───So are you ───Emilia said───. But it's not a bad thing.
Jazmín looked at her for a second longer than usual.
───Okay... then tomorrow we survive again.
───Tomorrow ───Emilia nodded.
They turned off the lights. The Jam & Roller was left in semi-darkness, still for a few hours.
And even though neither of them said it, both left with the feeling that something, very slowly, was starting to settle better than the coffee maker.
Mónica parked in front of the building and turned off the engine.
───We're here ───she said, barely turning toward her.
Ámbar nodded.
───Thanks for bringing me.
Mónica watched her for a moment longer, as if weighing something unsaid.
───Anything ───she said───, call me. No matter the time.
Ámbar smiled, tired, but sincere.
───Thanks. Really.
Mónica squeezed her hand once, brief, firm.
───Rest.
Ámbar got out of the car and closed the door carefully. She watched the vehicle drive away before entering the building, as if she needed to make sure the world was still running.
The apartment was silent when she closed the door behind her. A silence different from the mansion's. Smaller. More her own.
She set the bag on a chair, took off her coat, and walked straight to the bathroom. She didn't turn on the living room light. She didn't play music. She didn't have the energy for anything other than the automatic.
She turned on the shower. The hot water fell over her body as soon as she stepped in, and it was then (only then) that everything let go.
She pressed her forehead against the wall and let the crying flow freely. She cried for Sharon.
For her broken voice.
For her sharp, unfair, delirious words.
For that deterioration that advanced without asking permission.
She cried for Sylvana. For not knowing anything.
For that name that existed but had no form. For a biological mother turned into a question.
She cried for the tiredness of always being the one who understands. The water mixed with her tears, but it didn't erase them.
Then she felt hands. First gentle. Almost asking. Sliding along her arms, along her back, unhurriedly. Ámbar didn't flinch. It wasn't necessary.
When she lifted her face, Simón was there. Wet, naked, looking at her with that calm that always found her when she could no longer support herself alone.
He didn't say anything. He wiped her face with his thumbs and kissed her slowly, with a tenderness that asked for nothing. A kiss that didn't try to distract her from the pain, but to accompany her within it.
Ámbar broke down more strongly then, but she didn't fall. Simón wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead against hers, holding her as if the world couldn't get through them there.
───I'm here ───he murmured───. As long as you need.
Ámbar hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. The water kept falling, constant, enveloping them.
They didn't speak anymore. They stayed like that, under the shower, sharing the weight of the day, letting the water do its work.
And for the first time since the morning, Ámbar didn't feel like she had to be strong.
Only accompanied.
Night had fallen a while ago, but in Sharon's room there was no true darkness.
The bedside lamp was still on, too white, too direct. Sharon was sitting on the bed, her hands resting on the sheets, stiff, as if she didn't allow herself to lie down completely.
The silence wasn't silence.
───Always the same...───she murmured.
The voice didn't come from any specific place. Or it came from everywhere. A mix of memories, reproaches, and echoes that didn't ask for permission.
───Always failing...
Sharon squeezed her eyes shut.
───Shut up───she whispered───. Enough.
But the image appeared anyway. Alfredo, standing. Straight. Impeccable. Looking at her with that expression that never changed: disappointment without shouting, authority without hugs.
───You never made it ───said the voice───. You were never enough.
Sharon gritted her teeth.
───You made me this way! ───she snapped, suddenly, to the air───. You wanted perfection, but you fell in love with the shine of others.
Lili's face slipped in among the memories. Laughing.
Messy.
Artist.
Free.
───You looked at her... ───said Sharon, bitterly─── You measured me.
She brought a hand to her chest, breathing with difficulty.
───It's all your fault, Dad. All of it.
Silence returned, but it didn't bring calm. It brought something else.
Ámbar.
She saw him standing in front of her, just like he had that morning. Steady eyes. Contained pain. That way of his of not screaming, yet still saying everything.
Sharon felt a sharp pang in her stomach.
─I didn't mean to... ─he murmured─. I didn't mean to say that to you.
He ran a trembling hand over his face.
─You're my daughter ─he said softly─. I chose you.
Guilt weighed on her like a stone.
─I hurt you... ─he admitted─. And I know it.
She closed her eyes for one more second. When she opened them, the image had changed.
Ámbar was no longer alone. She was with Sol.
───No... ───whispered Sharon, alarmed───. Not with her.
Luna's (Sol's) figure overlapped with Lili's, effortlessly, illogically.
The same light. The same talent. The same ease in taking a place that Sharon had never been able to hold without breaking.
───She's the same ───she said, her voice full of fear───. Just like her.
She shook her head, distressed.
───She's going to destroy you, Ámbar... ───she murmured───. Even if she hugs you now. Even if she says she loves you.
The image shattered into fragments.
───It always starts like this ───she continued───. First the shine. Then the displacement.
Then... the forgetting.
Sharon curled up in on herself.
───I wanted to protect you ───she said, through tears─── even though I didn't know how.
The nightstand lamp flickered barely. Sharon let out a breath.
-───I didn't want to be alone ───she whispered─── not again.
She looked toward the door, as if expecting someone to come in. No one did.
The room remained the same. Too quiet. Too full of voices.
Sharon finally lay down on her side, hugging herself.
───Forgive me... ───she murmured, not knowing if she was speaking to Ámbar, Alfredo, or the sister she never stopped losing─── Forgive me.
The light stayed on.
And while the night passed outside, inside, Sharon's mind kept spinning, trapped between guilt, jealousy, and a love she no longer knew how to care for without causing pain.
Ámbar was wrapped in the robe, sitting on the bed, with her legs drawn up and her back resting against Simón's bare chest. He held her with his arms, slowly, as if the world outside didn't exist.
The steam from the shower still lingered in the air. The crying was over. The trembling too. What remained was that warm exhaustion that comes after collapsing without fear.
───You've told me everything ───Simón said softly, almost a whisper───. And it was no small thing.
Ámbar nodded, without speaking. She had her cheek pressed against his skin, listening to the calm rhythm of his breathing.
Simón kissed her neck, slowly, unhurried. It wasn't a kiss that demanded anything. It was a gesture of care. Then he rested his chin on her head and ran his fingers through her damp hair, patiently detangling it.
───You're amazing ───he murmured───. Even if you can't see it today.
Ámbar closed her eyes.
───Today I felt broken ───she admitted───. As if everything I believed was solid had shifted.
Simón turned her slightly so he could look at her. He held her face with one hand, forcing her to lift her eyes.
───Not broken ───he corrected───. Sensitive, human, and tired. But whole.
He gave her a soft, short kiss, barely touching her lips.
───My queen ───he added, with a faint smile───. Even when the world gets dark.
Ámbar swallowed. Her eyes shone, not from new tears, but from that sadness that never fully leaves, yet no longer suffocates.
───Simón... ───she said─── Sometimes I think that without you... there would be no sun in my life.
He didn't answer immediately. He hugged her tighter, as if he wanted to keep her there.
───Then rest easy ───he finally said───. Because I'm not going anywhere.
He pressed his forehead against hers.
───I will be there when you have strength. And when you don't. When the past hurts. When the present feels heavy. Always.
Ámbar looked at him steadily, with a serene intensity.
───Without you, my world would have no meaning ───she said───. It would have nowhere to lean on.
Simón smiled, with that mix of tenderness and certainty that only he had with her.
───Your world is you ───he replied───. I'm just here to hold it up when it's needed.
Ámbar nestled against his chest again. He covered her better with the robe and continued stroking her hair, slow, steady.
They didn't need to say more.
Outside, the night kept moving. The past was still waiting for answers. Sharon was still an open wound. But there, between them, there was something solid.
And Ámbar knew, without a doubt, that as long as Simón was by her side, she would never feel completely alone again. Because he wasn't just her love.
He was her home.