CHAPTER 24
Victoria and Micaela stand before the house that has been their sanctuary for nearly two months. Initially, it felt like confinement, like punishment, but now, it seems like the home they shouldn”t leave.
They gaze at the facade in total silence, their suitcases already loaded into the car, ready to depart and not return. Javier gave them fifteen days to finish the manuscript, and they”ve met the deadline, although—unconsciously—they”ve stretched every available moment, despite being able to send it three days earlier.
”Well, that”s it,” Victoria murmurs, her discomfort rising, deciding it”s best to end the situation swiftly.
She turns and climbs into the car, prompting Micaela, her chest tight with a knot of anguish and a sense of emptiness gnawing at her since she zipped up her last suitcase, to slowly succumb to the hollow feeling within. She casts one last glance at the house, trying to etch every intense memory with Victoria into her mind—from their first step inside. She doesn”t want to forget any of it, not even the bad moments, because she”s concluded they all belong to a story she”s not sure she can survive without. With a final sigh, she mirrors the Toledo writer”s steps, climbing into the car and fixing her gaze on the facade as they pull away.
Though the drive to Madrid is long, neither speaks. Both are lost in their own thoughts, unable to voice that the adventure, which started as a forced collaboration to write a book neither of them initially wanted, has become the cornerstone of something much stronger than either anticipated, and now, it has ended.
As the Madrid skyline looms into view, Micaela and Victoria can no longer use their project as a pretext to linger in each other”s presence. The city pulses with the relentless rhythm of reality, ready to thrust them back into their separate lives, each grappling with the void that the unexpected depth of their connection has carved inside them.
The journey feels unexpectedly short, and before they know it, Victoria”s steering into the publishing house”s parking garage. They arrive with just minutes to spare, the ticking clock mirroring the rapid beat of their uneasy hearts.
”You”re here!” Javier exclaims, his voice buoyant as they step through his office door. The editor looks like he”s barely slept, his eyes bright with a mix of relief and excitement after the recent turmoil of uncertainty and clashes between the two writers.
”I loved the ending,” he declares, greeting them each with enthusiastic kisses. ”Please, have a seat.”
He gestures towards the chairs across his desk and settles into his own, eyeing them curiously. ”What”s with the long faces?” he probes, his brow furrowing in confusion. ”You two were so eager to get out of that house, and now you look like you”re at a funeral.”
Micaela and Victoria exchange a fleeting glance, their expressions a stark reflection of their inner desolation. As if on cue, both attempt to conjure smiles, but the effort is so strained that Javier”s face registers concern.
”We”re happy, Javi,” Victoria assures quickly, her eyes darting to Micaela for support. ”It”s just been an intense couple of weeks. We”re exhausted, that”s all.”
Micaela feels a ridiculous urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but instead, she exhales sharply, her breath supporting Victoria”s explanation more than any words could.
”I hope you two plan to rest up,” Javier advises, his tone turning earnest as he toggles his computer to open his calendar. ”The publishing house is making your book a priority, so everything is going to move faster than usual.” He looks between them, his voice a mix of warning and excitement. ”The cover is nearly ready for your final approval, and in a few days, we”ll start announcing the upcoming publication. I”ve already lined up several interviews for you both.”
Victoria and Micaela nod, absorbing his words. They”re seasoned professionals, familiar with the drill, yet the speed at which things are progressing is a bit startling.
”Well, I think that”s it,” Javier concludes, standing up as they do. ”Right before you arrived, I sent you an email with my thoughts on the final part of the book you sent yesterday. There are a few tweaks I believe could enhance it—same old, same old. The rest of the manuscript is already in editing, so the wheels are definitely in motion.” He claps his hands, a grin spreading across his face as they all rise.
The writers stride toward the exit, but Javier, ever the gentleman, beats them to it, swinging the door open with a flourish.
“We’ll be in touch. Rest up these next few days—you’ve more than earned it,” he says, his smile warm and reassuring.
They exchange the customary two kisses goodbye, and Victoria and Micaela descend the building’s stairs, each step heavier than the last as they near the dreaded moment of parting.
Outside, the two pause beneath the arch of the exit, gazes drifting skyward, faces etched with contemplation. The writer from Toledo, Victoria, feels her nerves twitch; the long drive back has given her ample time to realize that their seclusion in that house meant more to her than she had initially believed. She steals a glance at Micaela, noticing a similar tension in her posture, but Victoria can’t decipher the whirlwind of thoughts possibly swirling in the Italian writer’s mind. Over the past weeks, she’s come to see a different side of Micaela—a departure from the arrogance that initially irked her. Micaela isn”t the cold, thoughtless person Victoria once thought she was. Yet, uncertainty lingers—was this change merely a product of their isolation?
Victoria shakes off the thought, reminding herself that their agreement was only for those few days, and now, it”s concluded. Everything else should be too.
“Well,” Victoria breaks the silence, turning to face Micaela, planting two kisses on her cheeks. “I’m off. I can’t wait to see my son. I’ll see you at the launch, okay?”
Micaela receives the kisses, her expression a mix of surprise and disappointment. Unlike Victoria, she had spent the drive back entertaining the possibility of extending what they had inside the house to their lives outside. She hadn’t figured out how to start that conversation, and seeing Victoria’s brisk, seemingly indifferent farewell, she realizes that perhaps it was better left unsaid. Clearly, to her friend, what happened in Vinuesa stays in Vinuesa.
“Sure, give him my best,” Micaela replies, her voice tight, struggling to mask the quiver that threatens to betray her emerging tears.
“Will do,” Victoria pauses, a flicker of hesitation washing over her. For a split second, she contemplates suggesting they meet up for coffee, maybe unpack these tangled feelings burning inside her. But before she can voice the thought, Micaela turns sharply and strides away, her steps quickening as she merges with the bustling city street.