Chapter 7

Liam

The meeting seemed endless. Everything there was artificial and boring. Jovin talked about numbers. Graphs. Strategies. The same as always. The others just nodded as if they were there to please me, not to do anything useful. As if any of them could get anything right in their lives. And yet… all I could think about was her, Kyra. The way she appeared with the keys in her hand, as if chaos was something she could solve with a snap of her fingers.

The way she didn’t look me in the eyes… as if she knew exactly what she was doing to me. That woman is driving me crazy without even knowing it, and I no longer know how to handle it.

It’s not just the way she takes care of Julie. It’s how she acts… As if she doesn’t fear me. As if she doesn’t want me as much as I want her.

And maybe that’s the greatest attraction. Most people bow before me. While she faces me.

I almost threw my phone against the wall when I saw the time: 11:16 PM. And we were still debating the opening of the new headquarters. But the truth was, no one was really getting to the point. Suit-wearing idiots.

I stood up abruptly. Without thinking before acting.

"The meeting ends here. Tomorrow, at 9 AM, I want a new action plan with real solutions. And this time, surprise me. If you come with something as idiotic as what was discussed today, you can all consider yourselves fired. I’m tired of idiots joking around."

No one protested. They wouldn’t dare.

I grabbed the car and went straight home.

The gate was already locked. The mansion silent. Lights off, as if now I could see how shadowed my house was. How far from the city I was.

"Has she already gone?" I thought, disappointed, even without reason for it. After opening the door and not seeing her in the hallways or her room, I went up to Julie’s room. She was sleeping peacefully, hugging her favorite bear, a little plush rabbit. The half-open window let in a light breeze. And then, I saw the little light outside… in the treehouse. I went down without thinking, like a teenager sneaking to meet his girlfriend in the middle of puberty.

The wood creaked under my steps. The rope ladder still swayed. And inside, under a light blanket, there she was, sleeping, as if the world was too safe. Her hair tied in a messy bun. A book open on her lap. A cup of tea—still warm—rested on a makeshift table.

And there, at the edge of the page… notes written in pen.

I bent down to read, even without permission. Pure curiosity.

"He never said he loved her. But the way he watched her… how he touched her pain with his eyes, was more devastating than any words. Was it some psychedelic illusion, or was it real?"

There were plenty of notes on the blank pages. It was too personal for me to meddle. I moved the cup away from her, so it wouldn’t fall on her if she woke up. Next to her was a comforter, and she was smart, because the night was cold.

I looked around and noticed some boxes with wallpaper, wall lamps, and several other things I would never think of buying. I turned quickly and almost jumped when I saw her awake.

"What are you doing here?" she murmured, with a hoarse sleepy voice, pulling the blanket around her body, as if hiding from me.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." I replied briefly, as if it were a coincidence.

"Julie wanted to sleep in the treehouse the other day. I thought she might like it if I left it decorated. With girly things, she will…" She hesitated, but as if remembering something, looked at me shyly. "Sorry for breaking another rule, it won’t happen again."

"You always stay where you shouldn’t. You could catch a cold out here. It’s cold, why don’t you come in?"

She didn’t respond immediately, didn’t look me in the eyes, and instead pulled the blanket up to her chest and took a deep breath.

"I read your notes," I confessed.

"And you must have seen that there’s nothing interesting."

"But you write about me, don’t you?"

She looked away.

"No. I write what I think and feel in the moment. Usually when I’m screaming silently."

"And you’re screaming now?"

She stared at me, tired. Wounded.

"Always."

"Forgive me for that day," I said, surprising even myself.

"I already said it’s fine. And please, don’t bring it up again."

I sat beside her, without touching. The space between us was small, but heavy with tension.

"So why are you still here, Kyra? What really brought you to this city? What brought you to this place?"

She smiled faintly, melancholic. As if feeling too many sensations at once.

"Because your daughter looks at me as if I were the home she lost. And maybe… I’m trying to convince myself that I can still be that for someone." She glanced at me from above, as if she had said something wrong. "That’s not what I meant… I don’t want to take your… Julie’s mother’s place. I just hope to be a good nanny for your daughter."

I wanted to touch her. Say something. But she took the book from my hands and lay down again, turning her face away.

"Good night, Mr. Blackthorne."

I got the message. I went down the stairs in silence, but before leaving… I looked back and realized she was more lost than ever. I silently thanked her for not leaving, even after my unusual and thoughtless reaction that night.

Ana was my great love. The woman who made me feel love and feel loved in equal measure. But we had marriage crises months before she left. And although Kyra is very different from her, in certain moments it seems there are too many similarities between the two. Coincidence, or just my imagination?