Chapter 16
The room was empty. The official event had ended some time ago, and the advisors and guests had already left. The footsteps in the hallway had faded, leaving only a heavy, tense silence.
I was still there, finishing up some notes—or at least pretending to. The truth was, my eyes scanned the pages without absorbing anything. My mind was elsewhere. On someone else.
Fernando was still in the room too, standing near the window, gazing out at the city lights. His shoulders were rigid, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched. I knew him well enough to know that his silence spoke louder than words.
He was pulling away from me.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep scribbling something meaningless in the notebook in front of me. The tension between us was almost palpable. I wanted to speak. I wanted to ask what was going on, why he was avoiding me. But at the same time, I was afraid of the answer.
Over the past few days, he'd been closing himself off more and more. His touch had become restrained. His gaze, once so intense, now seemed to measure my every move. Fernando had never been one to mince words, but lately, he seemed to be fighting against himself to keep his distance.
And I hated it.
“The meeting was productive,” I commented, trying to sound casual.
He didn't respond right away. He kept staring outside, as if he were somewhere else entirely. As if searching for an escape.
“It was,” he finally said, without looking at me.
That was it.
I rolled my eyes, letting out a low, humorless laugh.
“Wow, such enthusiasm.”
He sighed, rubbing his face as if exhausted. I knew he wasn't just tired from the day or the event. He was tired of me.
Or rather, tired of fighting me.
My chest tightened at the thought. I didn't want him to feel that way. I didn't want to be a problem in his life. But at the same time, I needed him close.
I stood up slowly, smoothing my skirt as I walked over to him. I stopped beside him, staring at the city outside, even though the only thing I cared about in that moment was him.
His body was close enough that I could feel his warmth, and yet it felt like there was an abyss between us.
“You've been avoiding me,” I murmured, breaking the silence.
He didn't respond right away. The silence stretched, and for a second, I thought he might just ignore me. But then I heard his voice, low and heavy with exhaustion.
“I'm not avoiding you, Glória.”
“No? Because that's exactly what it looks like.”
He finally turned to face me, and what I saw in his eyes completely disarmed me. There was so much there—a whirlwind of emotions he was desperately trying to hide.
But I saw it.
I always did.
“You don't understand, do you?” His voice was low, almost bitter.
My heart leaped.
“Then explain it to me, Fernando.”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. When he looked at me again, his expression was a mix of desire, guilt, and anger.
“You want this to keep being just sex, Glória. But I can't do it anymore.”
Those words hit me like a punch.
My body stiffened, my throat went dry. I could feel my heart pounding, a mix of relief and panic washing over me.
Because I felt the same way.
But admitting that would mean losing control. It would mean giving him everything without knowing what came next.
“It's not just sex,” I murmured, barely realizing I'd said it aloud.
His gaze deepened.
“But it's not more than that either, is it?”
I swallowed hard. I wanted to say it was. That he was wrong. But the words stuck in my throat.
He took a step back. It was subtle, but I felt it like an earthquake. Like something inside me was crumbling.
“You're leaving?” My voice came out weak, barely a whisper.
He hesitated. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to stay. That he was fighting himself.
“I need to go.”
My chest tightened even more.
“Fernando…”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering the strength to leave. When he opened them, his gaze had lost its intensity. It was distant.
“Good night, Glória.”
And then he left.
The silence left behind was deafening.
I stood there, unable to move. Heart pounding, the unspoken words stuck in my throat.
I should have run after him. I should have told him to stay. But I did nothing.
And for the first time, I was afraid he would never come back.