Diego with Val & Valeria

The next morning, Diego was already in the kitchen when she came down.

Valeria’s soft, warm “morning” floated in first — the kind, gentle tone he knew from years of routine.

She moved with easy grace, hair still loose from sleep, wearing a simple t-shirt that somehow still shaped her in ways that made his eyes dart away when she bent over the cupboard.

She poured coffee for both of them without asking, sliding his mug toward him with a little smile.

“Sleep well?” she asked, and there was genuine motherly concern in her voice.

Diego nodded, muttering thanks. The warmth in her eyes made his shoulders loosen.

For the first few minutes, she just talked casually — about the weather, about something on the news — all soft edges and small laughs.

Then, without warning, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs in one unhurried, fluid motion. The hem of her shorts crept up just enough that he noticed… and she knew he noticed.

Her eyes stayed on her mug, sipping slowly. No smirk, no teasing — just a quiet, deliberate stillness that left him unsure if she’d even realized what she’d done.

When he finally looked up again, her gaze caught his. She smiled… the same smile she used to give him when he’d done well on a test as a kid.

“It’s nice having mornings like this,” she said softly.

He almost smiled back.

Then — so quick he almost thought he imagined it — her expression shifted, the corners of her mouth curving in a way that wasn’t warm at all.

Her eyes lingered on him too long, the weight of her stare pulling his stomach into a knot.

“You still slouch when you eat,” she said suddenly, her tone sharp. “Always did make you look… small.”

The word "small" was coated in quiet amusement, a thread of condescension that left his ears hot.

She took another sip, gaze never breaking.

Then, just as quickly, the warmth returned. “You’ll want to eat before it gets cold.”

Her voice was Valeria again.

He didn’t know which version was real. She could see it — the uncertainty, the way his hands were just a bit tighter around the fork.

And she savored it.

She let the silence linger, letting him think the little sting had passed.

Diego focused on his eggs, chewing slower than before, clearly waiting for her to turn back into the familiar, safe Valeria who had smiled at him when he came into the kitchen.

She gave him that Valeria for the next few minutes — small talk about his classes, asking what time he’d be home later, the usual background hum of a weekday morning. She even reached across the table once to smooth an unruly lock of his hair, her touch feather-light and affectionate.

And then, when his guard was fully down, she set her coffee down with a gentle clink and leaned forward, her elbows on the table.

“You know…” Her voice was slow, casual, like she was just musing. “When you stare at me like that, it’s… cute. But it’s also obvious.”

Diego froze mid-bite. “What?”

Her smile deepened — not wide, just… sharper. “Your eyes give you away, Diego. They always have. Like when you were little, and you’d get caught doing something you knew you shouldn’t.”

She tilted her head, her gaze holding him in place. “Except now you’re not little.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, color climbing his neck.

Valeria sat back, taking her mug again, sipping with infuriating calm. “Relax,” she said with a little laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

She watched him swallow hard, eyes darting down to his plate again. He was trying to hide how rattled he was — which only made it more delicious.

“Eat up,” she said after a pause. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

And just when he thought she’d let it go, she rose from the table to rinse her mug. Passing behind his chair, her hip brushed the back of his shoulder — slow enough to register, light enough to be deniable.

She didn’t look back when she left the kitchen.