Chapter Two: Retrospective and Introspective. (#2)

The rest of the week passed with a strange air, as if something invisible floated between the days and made them heavier. Three issues weighed heavily on Tomás: Sam was acting unusually nervous, something Sunny didn't fail to notice; his job search led him to comb the city from end to end with no concrete results; and, finally, he made the decision to give one of his manuscripts to Professor Sofía. He wanted to verify Professor Krikett's words and, above all, he needed to find out if she knew anything about the whereabouts of the professor's family.

That Friday, as the sun began to set behind the buildings, Tomás walked towards the back courtyard of the high school with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He knew Sam well enough to intuit that his friend had called him to that place because he wanted to ask him for something without Sunny knowing. When he arrived, he found Sam waiting, nervously fidgeting with his hands, as if he didn't know where to start.

"Good thing you came. I thought you'd have to leave quickly for your job," Sam said with a mix of concern and anxiety.

"Don't worry. I don't have a shift today. Besides, I'll only be there until the end of the month."

"I'm so sorry... What are you going to do after that?" Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'll look for another job. Maybe tomorrow I'll start checking online. I wanted to take a couple of weeks to think. But let's not talk about me. What do you need? I don't think you called me all the way here just to catch up with me."

Sam leaned in slightly, adjusting his glasses with trembling hands.

"I... I know we don't usually talk about these things like... well, you know, women, relationships and all that."

Tomás looked at him impassively, his face serious and composed.

"Sam, I don't know if I'm the right person to help you. I've never had a girlfriend, and you know that."

Sam smiled nervously and, after a second of doubt, replied: "It's just that... you're different, like you're older. And, besides, you're her friend."

Tomás raised an eyebrow, somewhat disconcerted.

"Gee, don't tell me you like Sunny," he said, feigning surprise.

Sam vehemently denied it, waving his hands. "No, no! I wasn't talking about Sunny... I was referring to the class delegate."

For the first time in a long time, Tomás remained completely still.

"Now that is a surprise," he replied, unable to fully hide his astonishment. "I guess you've liked her for a while. And only now, that you saw me talking to her, do you dare to ask for my help."

Sam nodded shyly, smiling awkwardly. "It's good that I don't have to explain much... It's a little embarrassing to say it out loud."

Tomás sighed, knowing that this could only bring trouble. "I don't know what you expect me to do, but I have a bad feeling about this. Even so, you're my friend. I don't think I can refuse."

Sam thanked him with a joy that was almost contagious. But when they said goodbye, Tomás couldn't help but let that strange feeling of discomfort accompany him as he returned to high school. He knew Anaís wouldn't take kindly to the favor he had just promised, but he saw no alternative.

Upon reaching the teachers' lounge, he found only two teachers left. One of them was Professor Sofía, who was engrossed in her computer. Tomás took a deep breath, trying to project a confidence he didn't feel.

"Excuse me, Professor..."

Sofía looked up reluctantly, as if his presence was nothing more than an annoyance.

"What brings you here? Have you changed your mind or are you coming to apologize again, with another arrogant apology letter?"

Tomás tilted his head slightly, trying to appear humble enough.

"Professor, I know we started on the wrong foot, but I offer my sincere apologies. I'm truly sorry."

Sofía looked at him with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

"Well, I suppose, for once, I can believe you."

"I spoke with Professor Krikett. He insisted that I should trust you. He has helped me a lot, and I can't just ignore him."

"You went to the hospital?" Sofía asked, visibly affected. "You shouldn't go there. The professor doesn't want that."

Tomás took a large envelope from his backpack, heavy with the manuscript inside.

"I have my reasons for visiting him, and although he asked me not to come back, I don't think that's the right thing to do," he handed her the envelope. "I'm going to help him, whether he likes it or not."

Sofía accepted the package, looking at him seriously.

"Don't be selfish, Tomás. He wants to die in peace."

"No one wants to die alone. And the peace that abandonment gives is not true peace. He needs something more. If it's in my hands, I will help him and I will be by his side until the end."

Sofía looked at him with a mix of frustration and admiration.

"Too much commitment for someone your age. Let him go. Focus on what you can control, on what's in front of you. Write, Tomás. Write as if your life depended on it."

"Thank you for the advice, Professor. But I don't abandon my friends."

"And what if he doesn't consider you his friend?" she asked harshly. "Friendship, like love, must be reciprocal. If it's not, it will only lead to exhaustion and suffering."

Tomás clenched his teeth, nodding barely.

"I understand. I'll do what I can."

As he was about to leave, Sofía stopped him.

"Writing is not just a job. It's a passion that must burn inside you. If it doesn't consume you, if you don't feel that every word burns your soul, then it's worth nothing."

Tomás looked at her, his face serious, but his eyes seemed like two embers.

"Professor, my soul has been burning for years. Every day it bleeds and burns more. Perhaps now it's not enough, but soon there will be no page on this earth that can contain what I carry inside."

His words, full of pain and contained fury, resonated in Sofía's heart, taking her back to her own days of chaos. When Tomás left, she stood motionless for an instant, holding the manuscript as if it were a mirror of her own past. Without wasting time, she began to read.

What she found in those pages immediately captivated her. It was a raw and visceral portrait of abandonment, chaos, and betrayal. It was as if Tomás's own wounds had spilled into ink. When she finished, night had fully fallen, and the silence of the teachers' lounge became unbearable. Sofía left the manuscript on the table and put her hands to her face, trying to process what she had read.

The passion she had found in those pages was something she herself had lost long ago. And that discovery left her broken.