Todos los capítulos de Remember me naked: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

RAFAELI walk up the street without looking where I'm going.The sound of my footsteps on the asphalt feels foreign as if I'm not really walking. As if everything around me has become blurry since that gaze.That of Lyra.And that black dress, that posture, that way of not flinching when I pronounced her name as if I were a worn-out memory, worthless, barely tolerated in her present.She was there.In that restaurant.At that table.With him.And me? I melted into her like a guy in need. A guy who hasn’t digested it, a transparent guy.I let out a sigh. I'm hot. Too hot.I loosen the collar of my shirt. I feel like I'm suffocating.This restaurant isn’t a place you choose by chance. It’s a place you know.An address that isn't improvised.Even I have only been there once. Invited by a client with pockets full enough to think he’s subtle.And she…She walked in as if it were her home.She spoke with assurance. She didn’t look at the prices. She didn’t lower her gaze.How?How did she g

LYRALight seeps through the closed slats of the blinds, tracing pale lines on my rumpled sheets.I am awake, for a long time now.I haven't really slept, to be honest.I have floated between fragments of dreams too vivid and memories I thought I had put away for good.I wonder why I still think of him... my God... Alexandre, why did it have to be you? You, the forbidden fruit, because... you are Cassandre's fiancé and she is pregnant with you; I cannot separate you. Despite what I feel for you... I must hide it... I don't want to be a homewrecker.My throat is dry, my stomach empty.But it burns elsewhere. Where emotions reside when they have no place.I slowly turn my head on the pillow, as if each movement might break me.Everything is calm, too calm. The kind of morning where silence presses on the sore spots. I think of my ex; I don’t know why I think of him, he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of my thoughts.I see his gaze again, and it still haunts me.It wasn’t ange

LYRAThe tea is cold.I have been sitting on the couch for an eternity.The cup in my hands, motionless. As if by not moving, I could avoid thinking.But my thoughts, they move without me.They gallop, overlap, crash. I think of Daniel, of his message, and of him. Always him.Alexandre.I hate myself for still thinking about him.But it's stronger than me.He is there, in the background, in every heartbeat of anxiety, in every sigh that lingers too long, in this void that even the walls cannot fill.I haven't replied to his messages.I didn't have the courage, not the strength.I knew that if I did, I would start hoping for something impossible again.So I fled as I know so well how to do.And then, there’s a knock at the door, two firm knocks.My heart freezes.My fingers tighten around the porcelain.I rise, slow steps, cautious.I don’t expect anyone.No one comes here without warning.I open and he is there: Alexandre.I remain frozen, he is... magnificent... I had wanted to see h

CASSANDRAHe didn’t kiss me this morning.Not even on the forehead.Barely a glance, a sigh.And that "see you later" that echoed like an empty promise.Like a door left ajar just to avoid slamming too hard.I felt it.In his voice.In the air.Something… or someone.Her.Lyra.I grip the cup between my fingers until the porcelain squeaks.I know that taste. The taste of despair disguised as calm.The one we’re taught to swallow with elegance.But not this time.Not me.I am not a woman to be replaced. I am Cassandra.I rise, naked beneath the silk dress.And in the mirror, I meet another woman.A wounded woman, yes, but sharp, ready.I think back to his absences.To those nights when he stopped responding.To that foreign perfume on his collar.To that vacant look that told me everything without saying it.And I understand.He is already gone.Only a thread remains.But I can pull it. Tangle it. Make it snap… elsewhere.I whisper to myself the words I’ve never dared to say aloud.— S

ALEXANDREI pace back and forth in the living room. The light from the streetlamps barely filters through the thick curtains. Lucas is gone. He told me she was "out to dinner," as if it were trivial, as if it were normal for her to be elsewhere while I’m dying to see her.I waited all day. Like a fool.What was I thinking, exactly? That things would magically fix themselves? That her silence would fade into mine?I grab my phone, the screen lights up.I type quickly.I know I shouldn’t, I know it.But I do it anyway.I locate her phone.The dot appears.A restaurant, downtown.I feel a heat rising in my chest. A heat that is anything but healthy. It’s jealousy. Fear, too.She’s over there. With him.I don’t think. I grab my keys and slam the door.The journey is a void. A long corridor of tension that twists my insides.And when I finally arrive in front of the restaurant, I see her.Lyra.Sitting across from him.That damn guy.She smiles.Not much. Just a slight curve at the corner