LOGINThe night air began to creep in little by little, stealthily, as if the forest were reclaiming its space once the fire died down. After cleaning everything up and making sure the pit was reduced to ashes, we went back inside, dragging laughter, blankets, and that pleasant exhaustion that only comes after a well-lived day.
That was when Kevin, incapable of tolerating more than three seconds of silence, made a suggestion: “What if we watch a movie?”“How much?” Those words came out before I could stop them. Clear. Sharp. “What?” Jacob frowned. “Camila…?” my dad whispered, stunned. But I wasn’t looking at either of them. I was looking at Paul. “How much do you want?” Paul raised his eyebrows slowly, deliberately. “I don’t understand what you mean, sweetheart.” That word. «Sweetheart.» Spoken like a dirty hand laid on something that didn’t belong to him. “You know exactly what I mean. And don’t call me sweetheart.” I took a deep breath. “How much money do you want to leave me alone?” Paul opened his hands theatrically, like a mediocre actor. “Cams—” Jacob murmured, but I ignored him. He doesn’t call me like that, and I know he’s trying to soften things. “My mom didn’t talk much about you,” I co
That night, my dad and I decided to cook together. An old jazz record played through the kitchen speaker, its soft notes wrapping around us like a blanket. My dad chopped tomatoes while I mixed a sauce, and between laughter, bad jokes, and spoons clinking against pans, the house felt like it used to. Warm. Like home. But the warmth shattered in a single second. My dad’s body went rigid, and the music’s glow dimmed instantly. The air shifted, as if an invisible cold had filled the room. “Camila, go up to your room,” he said in a grave voice, without taking his eyes off the window. “Dad, is something wrong?” I asked, feeling the blood drain from my face, my heart pounding harder at the sudden change. I didn’t know what was happening, but it was clear it wasn’t good—and that terrified me. “Go up, please. Don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” His eyes, heavy with anguish
The days following the weekend at the lake felt strange, as if my life had suddenly stepped onto unstable ground. Everything looked the same—the classrooms, the homework, even dinners with my dad—but inside, nothing was where it belonged. Jacob had vanished into routine with a disconcerting ease. He still came over some nights to have dinner with us, just like always, but there were no stolen glances, no half-finished sentences. He had returned to his most formal version: short phrases, a proper tone, the same polite smile as ever. As if that kiss in the woods—added to the one when we got home—had been nothing more than a mirage I had imagined on my own. I forced myself to act normal, to laugh at my dad’s jokes during dinner or talk with Kate about anything at all to distract myself. But every time I heard Jacob’s voice, every time I felt him nearby, something in me tensed, waiting for a gesture, a word—anything that would tell me he remembered too. I
On Monday, after returning from the lake, the school routine felt almost absurd. The hallways were just as loud; teachers repeated their formulas and assignments, and yet I felt like I was on another plane altogether—as if I were carrying a secret written on my skin that no one else could see. At times, I even caught myself touching my wrist, as if some trace of what I’d lived might still be there. I didn’t share any morning classes with Kate, so I didn’t see her until recess. We sat in one of the school’s gardens, beneath the shade of a massive ash tree. The grass still held the morning dew, and the dampness immediately seeped through the fabric of my skirt, but I didn’t care. Groups of students spread out in loose circles, surrounded by laughter, phones, and coffee cups. It was the same scene as always… and yet I felt out of place. Kate was completely absorbed in telling me the plot of the series she was obsessed with, moving her han
The rest of the weekend felt like I was floating through clouds, as if everything revolved around that moment on the mountain. We were never alone again, and neither of us mentioned what had happened, but the way we looked at each other told me something had changed. It was like a secret wrapped around us, a silent complicity that made me wonder whether what I felt was the memory of what had already happened… or the desire for it to happen again. The hours passed lightly, filled with laughter and games. We played charades until our faces hurt from overacting, watched the sunset by the lake, and saw a movie that—to my relief—wasn’t a horror film. Between jokes, Kevin and his friends seemed to compete to see who could make me laugh the hardest; sometimes they succeeded so well that my stomach hurt. And while I found it funny on the inside, outwardly, I made sure not to let those interactions linger too long. It wasn’t h
Breakfast on the terrace was a feast. The long wooden table was covered with overflowing plates: pancakes, fresh fruit, crispy bacon, orange juice, and coffee that smelled like heaven. Kevin and his friends looked like a pack fresh out of hibernation, fighting over pieces of bacon as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Kate and I laughed at the scene, but my laughter grew even louder when Kevin handed me a towering stack of pancakes crowned with heart-shaped strawberries. “Especially for you, Camimi. Not just anyone receives a tribute like this,” he announced theatrically. “Aww, what an honor. I don’t know whether I should eat it or frame it,” I replied. Everyone applauded his antics, and Kevin bowed exaggeratedly. What didn’t go unnoticed, however, was the look Jacob shot him—brief, sharp. After breakfast, we set out for the lake. The weather was much nicer than expected, so some people jumpe







