that afternoon

The sun was already low by the time Diego trudged through the front door, his backpack hanging loose off one shoulder. He looked tired — not just from classes, but from that constant low-level tension she’d been feeding him all week. Valeria, for the moment, was the picture of comfort: lounging on the couch in soft, pale loungewear, a blanket pooled over her legs, the warm scent of tea in the air.

“Hey, you,” she called softly, eyes lifting from the book in her lap. “Rough day?”

Diego managed a small smile, dropping his bag by the stairs. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Come here,” she murmured. She patted the cushion beside her.

He hesitated — that half-second pause she was starting to notice more often — before moving over and sitting down. She tucked her legs under herself and reached for his shoulder, rubbing slowly, like a mother easing out a child’s stress.

“Mm. You’re tense.”

“I guess,” he said with a small shrug.

“You need to relax more,” she chided lightly. Her hand slid down his arm, fingers warm against his sleeve. “You can’t always carry the world on your back.”

He chuckled faintly. “Yeah, I’ll… work on that.”

She smiled — soft, gentle, reassuring — and then let her touch drift lower, fingertips grazing the back of his hand before she withdrew. She picked up her tea again, sipping, letting the moment breathe.

They sat like that for a minute, just the hum of the fridge and the tick of the clock in the kitchen. She watched his shoulders drop, his breathing even out.

Perfect.

Without changing her tone, she set her mug down, leaned ever so slightly toward him, and said, “You know, Diego… you really are easy to read.”

His head turned just a little, uncertain. “What?”

Her lips curved — but not in the Valeria way. “The way you watch me sometimes. Like you’re trying to figure me out. It’s cute… but it’s never going to happen.”

She held his gaze, unblinking. “You’re not built for this game.”

He blinked, his mouth parting, clearly thrown by the sudden change in her energy. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” She let the words hang, watching the faint flush rise to his cheeks again.

Then, just as quickly, she let the sharpness fade, leaning back and pulling the blanket over herself. “Anyway,” she said mildly, “dinner’s in the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

She didn’t look at him again. Didn’t have to. She could feel the way he kept glancing at her, unsure if he’d just imagined what had happened — or if the ground had really shifted under him.

Later that evening Diego was just coming out of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, when Val stepped into the hallway.

She’d changed. No more cozy loungewear — now it was a loose, draping t-shirt that fell just barely mid-thigh, bare legs pale against the dim amber light from the wall sconce. The shirt was thin enough that the shape of her underneath wasn’t a mystery, and he froze halfway down the hall without meaning to.

She noticed, of course.

“Diego,” she said softly, like she’d just happened upon him. But her pace didn’t slow.

He shifted awkwardly, stepping a little to the side to let her pass.

Instead, she stopped right in front of him. Close enough that he could smell the faint trace of her shampoo.

“You’ve been quiet since earlier,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Did I say something wrong?”

His eyes flickered to the floor. “No, I just… I’m fine.”

Her fingers reached up and brushed his damp hair back from his forehead — a tender, motherly gesture on the surface, but her eyes stayed locked on his, sharp and knowing. “You’re a terrible liar.”

His breath caught.

She stepped past him, just brushing his bare arm with hers, but before he could exhale she stopped at his side, leaned in so her lips were almost at his ear.

“You think about it,” she whispered, “and I can feel you thinking about it.”

She didn’t wait for his reaction. Just kept walking down the hall, the sway of her shirt catching his peripheral vision until she vanished into her room.

The door clicked shut.

Now he was left standing in the dim hallway, heart pounding, unsure if she’d meant anything by it… or if she’d just found another way to mess with him.