The same attendant who brought me my beer interrupted us to hand one to Maël. They exchanged a fist bump before he disappeared again. "Pay attention to me. Stop playing around." I gripped his arm. "Does Joao know or not?" He took a swig of beer. "Of course he does." My mouth fell open. "And he doesn’t—?" Maël cut me off with a kiss—one that, without the deafening music, would’ve sounded obscenely loud. "Relax. He’s my friend. He won’t say anything." "He’s also Fran’s friend." Maël’s expression shifted. "So?" "For God’s sake! He knows Nikko! He greeted him at the theater—they’re acquainted!" "Delu. Delu, Delu, hey." He set his beer down and cupped my face. "Baby, we’re here to enjoy ourselves, okay?" Another kiss, this one lingering. "Gerald and his crew are about to go on, and I brought you here so we could watch them together. Promise me you’ll calm down and actually have fun?" "Promise me nothing bad will happen?" I searched his eyes, momentarily mesmerized by the
We slipped in without any formalities—no security guards, no tickets, just free entry. We wove through a sea of sweaty, drunk, high, restless bodies, all pulsing with energy. For a moment, we paused to watch a performance: a group with fluorescent rings around their necks, wrists, and ankles, spinning and twisting in sync with the eclectic beats thundering through the air. "I want you to meet my friends!" Maël shouted over the music. I nodded, trying to shake the tension coiled in my shoulders as I scanned the crowd for familiar faces. This paranoia has to end. "Our seats are over there!" He pointed across the stage. "But let’s go this way first!" I followed him until we stood near the back of the platform, where massive LED screens muted the worst of the bass, making it easier to talk. Maël tugged me toward a group huddled around high-end sound equipment and laptops. "Hey!" He pulled one of them—a guy who looked closer to 30 than 20—into a rough hug. "This is my girlfriend."
Several cabins with stone, cement, and clay walls in muted gray tones and wooden roofs—perfect for the northern winters—lined the inns where we were staying: a modest row of cottages just outside Afife. Maël apologized to the group, excusing himself for a few hours to retrieve some belongings Catalina’s son had left behind on the beach. A cosmic coincidence that Maël himself volunteered to fetch them. Divine Providence had cast its strange blessing upon us. Now, whether by the underworld’s mysteries or some dark sky’s design, I found myself there, restless for what the night held. The long-awaited troublemaker arrived at the inn around 10 p.m., hauling six six-packs of beer—one for each of us. An exaggeration, obviously. Maël stayed with us for a while, chatting with Danilo about university life, pretty girls in class, music… The others joined in, tossing in stories about our hospital work—earning me those looks from Maël after the anecdote about the kids. At one point, I watc
"You still haven’t told me what the hell you’re doing looking for me. Tell me! No, no, no—don’t look anywhere but at me." He grabbed my chin and turned my face toward him. "Answer that and stop challenging me with everything else, because you’re not gonna lie to me now and say you had a great time hiding your feelings from Nikko." I jerked my face away from his hateful fingers and glared at him. His tone annoyed me—acting like he was so much older than he was—but the overwhelming urge to cry weighed heavier. Maël was pure contradiction. Honesty, youth, and raw truth. Zero filter! I fought and fought against the tears, but it was useless—my face was already wet as I tried to keep looking at him. But just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I noticed his eyes were glistening too, and it stole my breath. I turned my face away slightly before I could speak. "Of course I suffered over it, Maël." I exhaled in a low voice. "Damn it, Maël, I thought I’d go insane because I couldn’t
My brother’s whistle made my eyes close. For a moment, I felt like Danilo knew all about my drama, but he was just another innocent who thought my upcoming conversation with Maël would be about planning to see Nikko. I let out a horse-like laugh at my little brother—the kind that only shows your top teeth. I cleared my throat, straightened up, sighed, and walked around the truck toward the passenger seat. As I did, I heard the guy above inside turn his stereo back on, blasting that damn national anthem of electronic music, now muffled by the closed windows. Before I even reached my destination, I heard Danilo telling his friend Albert in vivid detail who Maël was: *the cousin of my ex!* He added that I’d convince him to invite us to his party. Now facing the door, I took a deep breath, placed my fingers on the handle, opened it, and climbed in. Maël had taken off his sunglasses and was staring straight ahead. The music was loud but not unbearable. Still, I had to ask him to turn
“I wasn’t going to confess anything—I’d never betray you, and you know that.” “I know, but that’s not what I mean.” I wiped my face with the back of my hands. “Why are you crying? You don’t have to cry.” I opened my purse, checked my phone, and aimlessly scrolled through apps without really seeing them—anything to avoid looking at him. “Delu.” He stepped closer, and I stepped back. “What you heard…” “You get money to do whatever you want.” I looked at him again. “We could’ve met at a hotel, couldn’t we?” He frowned and clenched his jaw. “Is that what you want?” “Maël…” I exhaled to steady my voice. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your father, but I don’t ever want to hear you talk to him like that again—or him to you. You’re not like that, Maël. You’re not a bad kid, not a bad son. Why do you treat each other that way?” His jaw tightened even more. “He and I don’t…” “I get it, I get that you have your differences. At your age, I argued with