The restaurant was exactly as Liam had described: by the river, lit by candles and soft lights reflecting on the dark water. Small, intimate, the kind of place where conversations remained private even with other tables occupied.
Helena arrived five minutes late on purpose, but he was already there.
Liam stood up when he saw her, and the way his eyes swept over her dress made Helena's whole body heat up. It wasn't a vulgar look—it was pure, reverent admiration, as if she were something precious.
"You are..." he stopped, shaking his head. "There are no words."
"Thank you," she murmured, feeling her face blush.
He pulled out the chair for her, an old-fashioned gesture that made her smile despite the tension. When he sat across from her, Helena could finally observe him calmly. Liam was wearing a dark shirt, no tie, the first few buttons undone. His hair was slightly styled, but still with that untamed air. He seemed... more human this way. But also more dangerous.
"Wine?" he offered.
"Yes. Definitely."
He poured them both a drink, and Helena took a generous sip, needing the liquid courage.
"So," she said, setting down her glass. "A normal night. How does that work?"
"We talk." A discreet smile. "About normal things."
"You know how to do that?"
"I can try."
For an absurd moment, they both smiled. And then Liam started talking, and Helena found herself being drawn into the conversation in a way she hadn't expected.
He didn't talk about himself—not at first. Instead, he talked about her.
"You wanted to be an architect," Liam said, his eyes fixed on her. "When you were younger. You used to draw houses in the margins of your school notebooks."
Helena froze, her glass halfway to her mouth.
"How did you...?"
"Let me finish." There was something gentle in his voice. — You gave up because someone told you it wasn't practical. That you needed to choose something safer. So you went into business administration, got a job that gives you stability, but leaves you empty.
The words were like precise blows, but not cruel. They were true.
— You've felt trapped for years — he continued, softly. — Not just at work. In life. As if you took the wrong path somewhere and now you're too far gone to turn back.
Helena blinked rapidly, fighting back tears that threatened to fall.
— Why are you saying this?
— Because nobody ever said it. — Liam leaned forward, his voice low and intense. — Nobody ever saw this in you. They see the Helena who works, who pays the bills, who shows up for work. But they don't see the Helena who cries in the shower because she feels lost.
A tear escaped. She wiped it away quickly, but he had already seen it.
— You're not just another person following the script, Helena. — His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. — You're more than that. You always have been. You just forgot along the way.
— Liam...
— You think it's too late. — He didn't stop, the words cutting deep, straight to her core. — At almost forty, you think you've already made your choices and now you need to live with them. But what if that's not true? What if you can still have everything you gave up wanting?
— You don't know what you're talking about. — But her voice came out weak, without conviction.
— I know you look at photos of trips you never took. — Liam held the glass, but didn't drink, his eyes fixed on her. — I know you keep architecture magazines under your bed, hidden as if it were shameful to still want that. I know that at three in the morning, when you can't sleep, you're not just awake — you're thinking about all the versions of yourself that could have existed.
Helena covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling.
— Stop. Please. But he didn't stop.
"I know you feel invisible. That you've spent years in relationships where no one really saw you. André..."—there was contempt in the name.—"He treated you like furniture. Functional. Present, but unnoticed."
"You don't have the right..."
"I have the right to see you." His voice grew firmer. "To see who you really are beneath all those layers of resignation."
Helena lifted her face, tears now flowing freely.
"And who am I, then? Since you know everything?"
Liam held her gaze, and there was something almost painful in his intensity.
"You're someone who's dying inside but keeps smiling. Someone who gave up on their own dreams but still helps others achieve theirs. You're strong not because you endure everything, but because you choose to wake up every day even when you don't see the point in it."
He paused, his voice softening.
"You're generous even when you're empty. You're kind even when the world isn't kind to you." And you believe you don't deserve more, that this is the life you're given, when the truth is you deserve absolutely everything.
The restaurant seemed to disappear. There were only the two of them, his words echoing in places inside her feelings that had been dormant for so long.
— How do you do that? — She whispered. — How do you know exactly what to say?
— Because I pay attention. — Liam reached across the table, palm up, a silent invitation. — And because I see you, Helena. I really see you. Not the version you show the world. The real one. The one you're tired of pretending.
Helena looked at his hand, trembling. It was a choice. Touching was accepting, in some way, that all of this was real.
Slowly, she placed her hand over his.
The touch was like an electric shock, but also like coming home. His fingers closed around hers, firm but gentle.
— I don't know what to do with this — she admitted, her voice breaking. — With you knowing everything. With you seeing me like this.
— You don't have to do anything. — He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. — You just have to stop hiding.
— I'm scared.
— About me?
— About... this. About what you make me feel. — Helena met his eyes. — It's too intense. Too fast.
— I know.
— But you're not going to back away, are you?
— No. — He was honest. — I can't.
The waitress appeared with the plates, breaking the moment. They let go of each other's hands, but Helena could still feel the warmth of his touch on her skin.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. The food tasted good, but Helena could barely register it. She was too aware of his every movement, every look, every breath.
— Can I ask you something? — she finally said.
— Anything.
— Why me? — Helena put down her fork. — Really. Why choose me among so many people?
Liam was silent for a long moment, considering the answer.
— Do you want the answer that will make you comfortable or the truth?
— The truth.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. — Because from the first moment I saw you, something inside me recognized something inside you. — His voice was low, almost a growl. — As if our souls had known each other before. As if you were made for me, and I for you.
— That sounds...
— Insane? — He smiled humorlessly. — Obsessive? I know. But it's the truth. And after dinner, you'll understand why.
Helena's stomach churned — a mixture of fear and anticipation.
— I'm ready — she lied.
Liam studied her for a moment, then nodded.
— We'll see.
________________________________________
to be continued...