Chapter Five: Here I Am, Wounded (#17)

The clinking of scissors as they fell onto the metal table was the only thing that broke the dense silence of the hair salon. Soledad sighed deeply. She ran a hand across her forehead, sweeping away the loose strands that had escaped from her messy ponytail. The air smelled of hairspray and dampness, as always at the end of a long day. The white light of the fluorescent tubes made everything look paler, more worn.

It had been an exhausting week. Clients coming and going non-stop, laughter, overlapping conversations, demands, last-minute touch-ups. But even though the salon had been filled with voices and noise, Soledad felt as if she had lived in an opaque glass bubble, isolated from everything she really wanted to hear.

Tomás hadn't shown up.

Not a visit, not a message, not a word.

"I'm working more at the restaurant," he had told her. And she had understood. Or at least she had pretended to. Because she had no right to be upset. She had no reason to miss him. They weren't a couple. They weren't even "a thing." She had a boyfriend. She had a life. She had everything she needed. Or so she kept telling herself.

And yet...

She picked up the broom and began to sweep the floor, covered in golden, brown, black hairs. Each strand seemed to mock her effort to maintain composure. She didn't understand why, but sweeping felt harder that day. Maybe because she knew she was clinging to a routine to avoid thinking.

Thinking about him.

Thinking about what they didn't have, but which somehow hurt just as much.

When she finished, she put the broom back in its corner, leaned against the counter, and massaged her aching wrists. The silence was absolute. The other girls had already left. In the dimness of the place, with the outdoor lights filtering through the curtains, her mind began to wander without permission.

What if Tomás invited her to the Spring Festival?

A silly idea. Childish. Naive.

And yet, the image hit her hard: hanging lights swaying over the square, the smell of cotton candy, distant laughter, music... and him by her side, perhaps brushing her hand, perhaps saying nothing, just being there.

She sighed. A mixture of desire and resignation.

The buzzing of her cell phone vibrating on the shelf abruptly pulled her out of her daydream.

Her heart raced with a mixture of hope and terror. She pulled it out quickly, as if the device were hot, burning her skin.

It was him.

It had to be him. It had to...

No.

It wasn't Tomás.

It was her boyfriend.

She read the message.

"Want to go to the Spring Festival with me?"

A simple, sweet, considerate message. Exactly what she should receive. What any girl would expect. She could almost imagine him writing it with a smile on his face, thinking it would make her day.

And yet, what she felt was... nothing.

No. Worse.

She felt empty.

A smile appeared on her face, but it was more a reflex than an emotion. A hollow smile, without roots.

What the hell is wrong with you, Soledad? she told herself, slumping into one of the chairs. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands for an instant.

Tomás.

It always came back to Tomás.

No matter how many times she tried to extinguish that thought. He was still there. In the gaps. In the silence. In the pauses.

The worst part was that she knew if Tomás wrote to her, even if it was just to say "how are you?", her whole world would shift. And that was unbearable.

She clenched her teeth.

"Enough," she murmured to herself. "Stop doing this."

She remembered kissing her boyfriend, the afternoons she walked him home, the simple plans they shared. She loved him. Didn't she? Of course, she loved him. He had always been good to her, patient, present. There was no reason to doubt their relationship.

So why was the mere thought of Tomás enough to churn her stomach?

You're confused, she told herself. Nothing more. You're tired. You need to sleep. Get back to your center. You need to be fair.

She looked at the screen again. She hesitated for another second. And then, like someone pulling a trigger, she wrote:

"Of course, I'd love to. I love you."

She pressed send without giving herself time to overthink it.

And the instant the message flew, something whispered to her that no, that wasn't what she wanted.

The air grew denser. Her chest tightened. She closed her eyes, rested her head against the wall, and let out a long sigh.

She couldn't go on like this.

But she also didn't know how to stop it.

Nor how to shake off the feeling that, as she sent that message, she had chosen the right thing...

And, at the same time, the furthest thing from what her heart desired.

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The city was dressed in colors. Bunting fluttered between the lampposts of the central promenade, food stalls released tempting aromas into the air, and children ran with paper lanterns that glowed like artificial fireflies.

The Spring Festival had returned, and though winter still resisted loosening its icy embrace entirely, the night held something special. Perhaps it was the laughter floating in the air, or the background music escaping through the crowd.

Tomás walked through the crowd with a calm smile. Beside him were Amelie and Daniela, the latter barely concealing her excitement. Amelie, on the other hand, walked with her hands in her pockets, not uttering a single complaint, though her pace was slow and her expression more contained than usual.

"Are you feeling alright?" Tomás asked softly, not wanting to seem too worried.

Amelie rolled her eyes, but there was a soft sparkle in them.

"I'm just… rusty. I haven't been out since the trees in this square had leaves."

Daniela laughed, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

"And even so, you look younger than anyone here. You'll have to share that secret."

"Work and lack of patience," Amelie replied with a half-smile.

Just then, Sunny appeared through the crowd, running, her jacket waving like a flag.

"Tomás! Dani! There you are! My mom's buying sweets with my sister, she's coming!"

Tomás waved back and received an unexpected hug from Sunny, as if months had passed since they last saw each other. Then, with the same energy, she turned to Amelie.

"Aunt Amelie! I'm so glad you came. I thought you'd never go out again!"

Amelie huffed, but didn't pull away.

"I'm only here because I was kidnapped. But I admit it smells good."

"Then let's go get sopaipillas!" Sunny shouted, already dragging them all towards a colorful stall.

The next few minutes were filled with laughter, with stuffed potatoes that burned their fingers, with sweets that stuck to their teeth, and glasses of fruit punch that left their lips sticky. The group moved as a single current through the fair: stopping at game stalls, looking at crafts, listening to bands on street corners.

Amelie, against all odds, let herself be caught up in the mood.

She smiled more than once. She even laughed heartily when Daniela beat her at the shooting gallery, and as a penalty, Amelie had to carry a pink balloon for half an hour. She said nothing, but Tomás glanced at her and knew it was a triumph. His mother, for once, didn't seem to carry the whole world on her shoulders.

After a good while, Sunny and her family decided to go ahead to find a good spot from which to watch the fireworks. The sky was already beginning to darken completely, and the murmur of anticipation ran through the streets.

"Are you coming with us?" Sunny asked Tomás.

"In a bit. I'm going to walk around first."

"Don't be long!"

When the group walked away, Amelie stopped by the side of the path. Daniela watched her carefully.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes… but I think that's enough walking for this year."

Tomás approached softly.

"Should I take you home?"

"No," she replied. "Go watch the fireworks. You were waiting for this, weren't you?"

"Not that much..."

"I know you, Tomás. These kinds of things are important to you. Go. I've had my share of the party."

Daniela raised her hand.

"I'll go with her, don't worry."

Amelie nodded curtly. But before leaving, she turned to her son. For an instant, she seemed to want to say something more, something that hung suspended in the air. She just squeezed his arm.

"Thanks for insisting," she murmured.

Tomás nodded, moved without knowing why.

And then he was alone. He walked slowly among the last, now emptier, stalls, watching people laugh, buy souvenirs, hold hands. The lights from the lampposts painted warm figures on the cobblestones. The music from the games mingled with the murmur of the sea that, even at that distance, could still be heard.

It was on that walk, amidst the warmth of borrowed smiles, that he felt a pang in his chest. As if the sea wind knew something was about to change.

He clenched his hands in his pockets, looked at the sky beginning to turn red from the last rays of the sun…

And he thought that night, without even knowing it, he was about to say goodbye to something he had believed was eternal.