Chapter 14
The streetlights illuminate the streets with a warm glow that reflects off the pavement, slightly damp from the drizzle that fell during the afternoon, and the constant murmur of the city—cars passing by, conversations on the terraces, the clinking of glasses—creates a lively, electric atmosphere that she’s beginning to like far too much, despite how little time she’s spent in Santander.
Rebeca Noriega walks alongside Ariadna down one of the downtown streets, near the Río de la Pila area, where the nightlife begins to gather as the night progresses.
The cold air caresses her bare neck and makes her skin prickle slightly, but she still feels comfortable, almost in control of herself.
She has decided to dress up a little more than usual, as if this night were a small declaration of intent to herself: that she can go out again, breathe, exist outside the memory that burns in her mind.
She’s wearing straight-leg black pants, slightly fitted, that flatter her figure without being too tight, paired with a dark green silk blouse that falls softly over her shoulders and hints at the delicate line of her collarbone.
Over that, a short leather jacket that gives her that casual touch Rebeca loves so much.
Her hair is worn loose, with natural waves that frame her face, and she’s wearing barely any makeup beyond subtle eyeliner and a warm shade on her lips that, in truth, suits her better than any other color.
It’s not a flashy outfit.
But she feels beautiful. Very beautiful.
And, above all, she feels natural.
She’s eager to get out, to breathe something other than the tense silence of her apartment or the intense focus of hours spent in front of the computer.
The translation of the manuscript is already more than halfway done, and for the first time since she arrived in the city, she’s decided to give herself a real break.
A night without work. Without uncomfortable thoughts.
Without memories that sneak in uninvited and take her breath away.
“You look very pensive,” says Ariadna, glancing at her sideways as they walk side by side.
Rebeca smiles slightly, a small gesture that doesn’t quite light up her entire face.
“I’m trying to memorize the way so I can find my way back on my own if I get lost,” Rebeca jokes.
Ariadna bursts out laughing, a genuine, hearty laugh.
“Don’t worry, this is Santander, not a jungle. Although, knowing you, you’d be capable of getting lost in your own doorway.”
Rebeca raises an eyebrow and feigns indignation.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of with a map. Or without one.”
Ariadna shakes her head, amused, and gives her a gentle nudge with her shoulder.
“Well, you’d better learn fast, because I plan on taking you out and about a lot. You’re not going to spend the next few months cooped up translating other people’s impossible romances.”
Rebeca falls silent.
A fleeting memory flashes through her mind of the times she’s run into Martina in the building’s entrance over the last few days. It’s always been brief and, above all, with Julia present. A cheerful greeting. A few short words. Nothing more. The rush to get to work…
“Hi, Rebeca, everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s perfect. How about you guys?”
“Wonderful. Maybe you should come over some other night.”
Then came the silence, accompanied by a palpable awkwardness, along with that perfume she wears that drives me crazy, she thinks.
Rebeca shakes her head, as if that simple gesture could banish those thoughts.
“Not tonight. I’m not going to let myself think about that.”
“Look,” Ariadna says suddenly, nodding toward the door. “There they are.”
In front of the door to the place where they’ve agreed to meet, a small group of women is chatting animatedly under the light of a blue neon sign advertising the bar’s name: *La Marea*.
The place isn’t exclusively a gay bar, but it’s well-known enough within the community that many women go there naturally, without having to explain themselves to anyone.
Ariadna raises her arms.
“Hey! Over here, girls!”
The three women turn their heads at the same time. One of them raises a hand and responds enthusiastically.
When Rebeca approaches Ariadna, she begins to make the introductions.
“Girls, this is Rebeca,” she says with a mischievous smile. “Our new headache.”
Rebeca lets out a small laugh, somewhat nervously.
“Nice to meet you,” she says. “I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”
The three friends welcome her with curiosity and immediate warmth.
The first is Naima, a tall woman with dark skin and very short hair that highlights the natural elegance of her features. She has an intense yet warm gaze, and the way she speaks conveys a confidence that tends to immediately draw in those around her.
“So you’re the miracle translator,” Naima says with an amused smile, extending her hand to shake Rebeca’s firmly.
Rebeca raises an eyebrow as she returns the handshake.
“Miracle?”
Ariadna shrugs innocently.
“I’ve spoken very highly of you. Too highly, perhaps.”
“Exactly, very highly,” adds Eva, the redhead with freckles dotting her face and an almost permanent smile that lights up her light eyes.
“We’re already curious to know what you’re translating.
I’ve read some of your books, and honestly, the translation is flawless.
That makes spending the money worth it.”
Rebeca laughs, this time for real.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you with the next one. And as for the rest… Ariadna already knows I’m pretty boring when I’m not translating.”
Zule, the one with dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, tilts her head and watches her closely.
“I don’t think so. Ariadna doesn’t get excited about just anyone.”
“And she never shuts up,” Naima adds, winking at Ariadna.
They all laugh, and the ice breaks in a matter of seconds.
Inside the bar, the atmosphere is vibrant without being overwhelming. The warm lights blend with the music that fills the space with a lively, deep rhythm that invites you to move. The dance floor is already occupied by several groups moving carefree, without poses or calculated glances.
The first drinks arrive quickly. Gin and tonic for Rebeca, beer for Ariadna, something with lime and rum for the rest of them. The conversation flows naturally, and, of course, so does the laughter.
“So, how are you settling into the city?” Eva asks, leaning toward her over the high table.
Rebeca takes a sip before answering.
“Fine. Although I haven’t really explored the area yet, the ocean helps, honestly. And the silence of the apartment too, though sometimes it’s too much. I was used to more noise.”
Naima nods, understanding.
“The first few months are weird. But you’ll see—soon enough, you won’t want to leave here ever.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Rebeca replies.
Zule raises her glass in a toast.
“To beginnings that you don’t realize are beginnings until they’ve already begun.”
They clink their glasses, and the cold liquid slides down Rebeca’s throat, warming her stomach.
At some point, they all end up on the dance floor, moving to the beat of the music with spontaneity.
Rebeca closes her eyes for a moment, letting the bass resonate in her chest, letting sweat bead on the back of her neck.
She feels her body relax. She feels the tension that has built up over the last few days begin to dissolve, drop by drop.
When they return to the bar to order another round, Eva approaches her with a conspiratorial look, her red hair plastered to her temples from dancing.
“Hey,” she says, leaning in slightly, her voice low so only Rebeca can hear. “An important question.”
Rebeca looks at her curiously.
“Go ahead.”
“Has she tried to hit on you yet?”
Rebeca freezes.
“Who?”
Eva discreetly points toward Ariadna, who is ordering drinks with her back to them.
Rebeca blushes immediately.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ariadna interjects from across the bar, having clearly overheard the conversation. “We get along great, but only at work. And as friends, of course.”
Then she adds mockingly, turning around with the drinks in her hand:
“Besides, she likes a different kind of woman. More… complicated.”
Rebeca clears her throat.
That very morning she’d told Ariadna about Martina. Not in too much detail, but enough for her to get the gist. Ariadna listened without interrupting, just nodding, and finally said, “Damn, that sucks. But it’s also so sweet.”
“I don’t think it was a good idea to tell her,” Rebeca thinks now, feeling the heat rise up her neck.
Ariadna gives her a knowing look and passes her the glass, deliberately brushing her fingers against hers.
Rebeca decides to ignore her and takes a long sip.
For a little while longer, everything remains easy.
They dance. They talk. They tell each other stories.
Naima imitates her boss with a cruel precision that has everyone doubled over with laughter.
Zule confesses that she hasn’t slept more than four hours in three weeks because of a project.
Eva dances as if no one is watching, with her arms raised and a smile that seems to light up the entire dance floor.
For the first time since that night, Rebeca feels that maybe she can move on without getting stuck in what happened—no matter how much they still have a conversation left to have.
That the desire that still burns her skin when she thinks of Martina can become something more manageable and, above all, distant.
Until the door to the bar opens, and the cold air from the street briefly sweeps inside, carrying with it the scent of salt and fresh rain.
Rebeca doesn’t look up right away. She’s listening to something Naima is telling her about a trip to who-knows-where.
But then, a pair of intense eyes seem to cross the distance and bring with them the woman she had wanted to avoid at all costs.
Martina enters the bar. And she’s not alone.
Walking beside her is another woman. Tall, elegant, with hair falling over her shoulders in perfect waves and a relaxed smile as she approaches the bar. She’s wearing a jacket that opens as she walks, revealing a tight black dress that hugs every curve of her body.
Rebeca feels something tighten inside her chest, a fist squeezing her without mercy.
For a second, Martina doesn’t see her. She’s too busy taking off her jacket and ordering two drinks, leaning over the bar to whisper to the bartender. The stranger slips an arm around her waist naturally, a casual yet possessive gesture that Rebeca notices and makes her feel a pang of jealousy.
Rebeca reacts immediately, but this time, she does so by grabbing Ariadna’s arm tightly.
“Come with me.”
“Hey!” Ariadna protests as she’s dragged to a corner of the bar, between the wall and a pillar. “What’s going on?”
Rebeca speaks in a low voice, her breath coming in gasps.
“You have to watch my back.”
Ariadna blinks, confused.
“What?”
Rebeca discreetly nods toward the bar.
Ariadna follows her gaze and opens her mouth.
“Wait… is that…?”
She doesn’t hesitate to whistle.
“Well, no wonder you slept with her. She’s hot.”
“Idiot,” Rebeca whispers desperately, her eyes shining. “You know perfectly well that I love her.”
The words come out before she can stop them, and for that split second, Rebeca blinks. She’s just realized what she’s said. What she’s just confessed.
Ariadna stares at her.
Then she looks toward the bar. Martina is laughing with the woman accompanying her as they wait for their drinks, her head thrown back, her throat exposed in a gesture Rebeca remembers all too clearly.
Then Ariadna looks back at Rebeca.
“Okay,” she says calmly, placing a hand on her forearm. “Let’s not panic.”
Rebeca takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Ariadna adds, squeezing her arm. “Breathe.”
At that very moment, from across the room, Eva’s voice cuts through the music.
“Cora!”
Several heads turn.
“Cora!” she repeats enthusiastically, waving her hand. “What are you doing here?”
Time seems to stand still, and Rebeca closes her eyes for a second.
Everything has just gone to hell.