Reunited (Monday, May 18)

Dear Diary,

You’ll never guess who just moved into the house across the street.

I’ll keep it short: Brian Glesias.

Yes, that Brian Glesias — the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He has dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes that remind me of the beaches in Haiti, and a perfectly scruffy three-day beard. Don’t even get me started on those sculpted arms. Just looking at him makes me feel weak inside, like my whole body melts and my heart starts doing gymnastics.

Yes, dear diary, I have to confess — I find him breathtakingly beautiful.

But I haven’t even told you how long I’ve known him... or why seeing him again makes my heart flutter like this.

You see, his mother and mine used to be best friends. They had known each other since elementary school and grew up inseparable. Eventually, they both got married — to two very different types of men.

My dad — rest his soul — was a kind, sensitive, hardworking man... but poor. Brian’s father, on the other hand, was wealthy,irresponsible, and — let’s be honest — a complete bastard. The kind of man who thought it was perfectly fine to raise his hand against a woman.

The craziest part? Both our moms got pregnant at the exact same time. They even went into labor at the same moment, in the same place — Brian’s mom was actually visiting mine when it happened. They were rushed to the same hospital, delivered on the same day, at the same time.They used to tell us it was a sign from the universe. That Brian and I were meant to be.

But then, out of nowhere, when we were just twelve, his mother vanished. Left the country with him without warning. My parents never told me why — but even as a child, I understood. You could see it in the way Mr. Glesias, with his beer belly, yellow teeth, and greasy stare, looked at my mother. The way he would “accidentally” touch her in places no man should ever touch another man’s wife. And the way Mrs. Glesias would tremble anytime he came near her.

I was twelve — not stupid. I knew something was wrong.

And now... he’s back.

Today, I saw him outside, carrying boxes into the house across the street. His black t-shirt clung to his back, his muscles flexing under the weight, and I swear, I forgot how to breathe. I was watching him from behind the curtain when—

Knock knock knock.

Three quick knocks on the door. I froze.

I walked downstairs, heart racing, and opened the door.

It was him.

— "Hey," he said, casually. His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth and calm— but still familiar.

— "Brian?" I whispered, like I wasn’t sure I wasn’t dreaming.

He smiled. That smile.

— "Do you remember me?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

— "I’d remember you even if I were dead," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

We both laughed. Well, mostly him. I was too busy trying not to shake.

— "I figured I should come say hi. I..." He paused. "You haven’t changed."

— "Neither have you. I mean— you have. But, like… in a good way," I stammered.

He chuckled.

— "Wanna help me unpack? I’ve got two arms and zero sense of organization."

He could’ve asked me to walk barefoot through fire and I’d have said yes.

— "Sure. Let me grab my shoes."

A few minutes later, I was standing in his living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and that new-house smell — cardboard, detergent, fresh wood.

He handed me a box.

— "Can you put that on the table? It's full of books."

— "Still reading like crazy, huh?" I asked with a smile.

— "Yup. And you? Still writing?"

I stared at him, surprised.

— "You remember that?"

— "You once told me you'd write a book one day, and I’d be the main character." He walked closer. "So? Am I at least an interesting character?"

I blushed.

He smelled like clean cotton and something warm and earthy. Like home.

— "You have no idea."

We looked at each other. One of those still, suspended moments. Like the world had stopped spinning just for us.

Then he broke the silence with a grin

— "By the way… I saw you peeking through the curtain earlier."

— "What?!" I nearly dropped the box. "You saw that?"

— "From the first box I carried in. You weren’t exactly subtle."

I buried my face in my hands, laughing nervously.

— "Oh God. I’m so embarrassed."

— "Don’t be. Honestly… I was hoping it was you."

That shut me up.

He looked into my eyes, more serious this time.

— "You know why we left, right?"

I nodded slowly.

— "Yeah. Your mom didn’t look happy back then."

He sighed and looked down.

— "She wasn’t. Neither was I. It took years to feel normal again. But now... I guess being back here is part of closing that chapter."

— "Are you staying for long?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

He met my eyes again.

— "That depends."

— "On what?"

— "On you."

I didn’t know what to say. My heart was thumping so loudly I could barely hear myself think. I smiled — awkward, messy, hopelessly genuine.

And in that moment, I didn’t care what would happen next.

All I knew was this: I’m ready to find out.