Chapter 8
Martina tries to convince herself that Rebeca’s presence doesn’t affect her.
She repeats that idea to herself insistently as she stares at the computer screen, endlessly zooming in and out on photographs.
The room she uses as a studio is lit by the morning light streaming in through the window facing the sea.
Today she’s decided to work from home, but even that has ended up seeming like a bad idea to her.
Outside, the distant sound of the waves is muffled by the neighborhood buildings, creating an atmosphere that should make her feel calm.
On the screen appears the image of a fisherman leaning on a railing at the harbor. The photograph is powerful; she knows that. However, Martina has been staring at the same image for several minutes without seeing what it actually conveys.
Her mind is elsewhere.
At her dining room table, illuminated by the warm light of the lamp.
In the wine glass between Rebeca’s fingers.
In the way her eyes lingered on hers for long seconds, more times than she could count.
She remembers the tilt of Rebeca’s head as she listened, the way her smile appeared with an ease Martina has never forgotten, including the way she tucked her hair behind her ear in a gesture that, for years, had been so intimately familiar that Martina could almost anticipate it.
Time is supposed to change people. Six years are supposed to be enough to blur memories. But that’s not how it is. At least not in her case. Every one of Rebeca’s gestures during dinner has been etched into her memory with a painful clarity she cannot erase.
Martina sighs wearily and leans back in her chair.
“I’m going to go crazy,” she mutters, bringing her hands to her face.
The sound of her own voice in that studio surrounded by silence makes her feel slightly ridiculous. She closes her laptop and stands up. The tension in her shoulders reminds her that she’s been sitting for too long.
As she walks toward the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, another memory surfaces with unexpected clarity. Julia’s voice, just a few minutes after Rebeca left, having said goodbye with a “see you soon.”
“She was always important to both of us. I’m glad that at least we can get along.”
Martina opens the fridge and lets the cold water fill the glass as that phrase echoes through her mind again. She stands there for a few seconds, watching the clear liquid hit the glass.
“As if that were all there was to it…” she says to herself.
Because it’s not just that. And it seems it never was.
The relationship she had with Rebeca wasn’t a brief fling or a fleeting affair that time could easily fade away.
From the very beginning, there was a special chemistry between them.
A connection that emerged with an almost disconcerting naturalness.
After Julia introduced them, their first conversation went on for hours, jumping from photography to literature, from travel to little everyday obsessions.
And three months later, they were already living together.
Now, as she recalls it, Martina almost smiles. Perhaps they were impulsive. But they were also happy. The thought is accompanied by such intense nostalgia that it forces her to close her eyes for a moment.
When she opens them again, the silence in the house feels overwhelming. She needs to get out.
She puts on a light jacket, grabs her keys, and leaves the apartment. Julia was going to be late, so she doesn’t have to explain herself to anyone.
The fresh morning air greets her as soon as she steps out the door.
The neighborhood is filled with the hustle and bustle of last-minute Saturday shopping.
Some people stroll with grocery bags, others walk small dogs tugging at their leashes.
The streets near the sea have a special charm that always catches her eye whenever she passes by.
Martina walks aimlessly, letting the distant sound of the Cantabrian Sea accompany her.
The salty smell mingles with the aroma of coffee wafting from a café on the corner.
As she passes in front of the café’s window, something catches her attention, and her gaze settles on the woman holding a cup while she laughs.
Rebeca is sitting at a table by the window.
The scene is so unexpected that Martina freezes for a second.
Rebeca has her laptop open in front of her and is leaning slightly forward as she talks to a woman sitting across the table.
The other woman—with loose, copper-colored hair—gestures as she points to something on the screen.
Both of them laugh, and Martina forces herself to swallow as she sees how beautiful Rebeca’s laugh is, so bright, and so… “perfect.”
She feels the urge to go in. The desire comes so naturally that she almost takes a step toward the door. But she stops as soon as she moves an inch and stands watching the scene from the sidewalk.
Rebeca seems relaxed, focused on the conversation. At one point, she rests her elbow on the table and leans in to get a better look at the laptop.
“It’s probably just a coworker,” Martina thinks. The idea makes sense. And yet, a pang of jealousy and unease settles in her stomach. Martina frowns slightly.
Why should she feel jealous? The question is so obvious it almost takes her breath away. Rebeca hasn’t been part of her life for six years. “And I’m married, so stop being silly.”
With that thought still echoing in her head, Martina forces herself to step away from the window.
She continues walking aimlessly for several minutes, trying to let the movement of her steps sort out the chaos that has settled in her mind.
She turns a corner. Then another. And another.
And when she finally looks up, she realizes she’s standing in front of a door she knows very well. The building where Cora lives.
She doesn’t remember exactly when she decided to go there, but the idea suddenly seems logical to her.
She goes inside as a neighbor is leaving, glancing at her phone to read Julia’s latest message: “I think I’ll have to go to Madrid tomorrow,” and after climbing to the third floor, she rings the doorbell without a second thought.
“What a fun Sunday I have ahead of me…” she says, putting her phone away.
The door opens a few seconds later. Cora appears in the doorway with her hair carelessly loose and wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” she asks with an amused smile. “Have you missed me that much?”
Martina opens her mouth to answer, but she doesn’t have time.
“AUNT MARTINA!”
A little whirlwind of energy shoots out from inside the apartment, and the boy throws himself straight at her.
Martina lets out a genuine laugh as she catches him in her arms.
“Hi, Leo.”
The five-year-old hugs her enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her neck.
“You didn’t come last week!”
“I’ve been working a lot; I’m sure your mom told you,” Martina replies as she ruffles his hair.
Cora watches the scene from the doorway with an amused expression.
“Come on in before this little whirlwind knocks you over.”
Martina enters the apartment while Leo runs back into the living room, where he was watching a cartoon. The atmosphere in the house is cozy, filled with scattered toys and that little bit of chaos that always comes with homes with children.
Cora heads to the kitchen.
“I’m going to crack open some beers.”
“Thanks.”
When she comes back, she sets two bottles down on the dining room table. Leo is lying on the couch, watching TV with complete concentration, so Cora sits down across from Martina and watches her closely.
“Okay,” she says after taking a first sip from her bottle. “Tell me what happened.”
Martina raises an eyebrow.
“Is it that obvious that something’s happened to me?”
“Do I need to remind you how surprising it is to see you here on a Saturday afternoon without warning?” Cora shrugs. “Besides, the last time we spoke before I left on my trip, you were going out to dinner with Rebeca.”
Martina sighs. She rests her elbows on the table and twirls the bottle between her fingers before taking a sip. The cold liquid is comforting and clears her head a little, but the truth is, she’s having a hard time getting her thoughts in order.
“I know this is going to sound rash, but…”
Cora raises an eyebrow.
“Go ahead.”
“But I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten her,” Martina confesses. The silence that follows lasts a few seconds, but Cora doesn’t seem surprised at all.
“It doesn’t sound rash to me, or crazy, certainly not,” she replies, flashing a smile as she shrugs. “I’ve known you for many years, Martina. And I’ve never seen you talk about anyone the way you did about Rebeca. Not even in your best moments with Julia.”
Martina looks down at the table and hates herself for betraying her wife.
“It’s been six years.”
“I know.”
“And I have a life,” Martina adds.
Cora nods.
“I know that, too.” Silence settles in again for a few seconds. “But having a life…” Cora adds, “doesn’t always mean you’ve closed all the chapters. Because sometimes they’re just on pause. And you, my friend, seem to have left that one in particular waiting for a conclusion.”
Martina lets out a laugh, without a trace of humor.
“So what do I do now?”
Cora leans forward slightly.
“It depends on what you want. I think the first thing you have to do is figure out how you feel about Julia, for both of your sakes. And then… I suppose you’ll sort out the rest. The only advice I can give you is to be careful.”
Martina turns the bottle over in her hands.
“Yeah, that would be the logical thing to do…” Martina says. “It’s just that I can’t believe a single glance was enough to bring back feelings I had… so long ago. I’m a mess.”
Before Cora can answer, Leo comes running in at that moment, holding a toy car.
“Auntie Martina, play with me!”
Martina smiles, grateful for the interruption.
She gets up and follows him into the living room.
As she plays with the boy, building impossible tracks with the wooden pieces, her mind keeps racing.
Every laugh from Leo reminds her of what she has: people who adore her, a routine, a life that works.
And yet, every time she closes her eyes, she sees Rebeca, along with all the possibilities that now lie before them.
Possibilities she has no idea how to face.