You can't live without them.
You can't deal with them.
You can't reason with them.
You can't understand them.
And you sure as hell can't exist without them.
There was a reason even God Himself looked at Adam and said, "Yeah, this man needs help."help. "Because the truth is eternal—man cannot do without woman.
By now, every man reading this should know exactly what's being referenced here.It's nothing other than the most powerful, unpredictable, universe-altering force known to mankind—
Woman. Woman. Woman.
The saying "Behind every successful man is a woman" isn't a cliché. It's prophecy. A truth written in the blood and bones of history itself. The one presence capable of either building an empire beside you—or tearing it all down with a single tear, a single word, or a single look.
And for Mateo King, high above thirty-six thousand feet in the sky, slicing through the clouds at nine hundred kilometers per hour, destiny was moving toward him.
Unbeknownst to him—or even her—the machinery of fate had already begun to turn. Three meddlesome women, bound by love, stubbornness, and an unstoppable will to protect their boy—their son, their nephew—were right now on a phone call deciding the future, hurtling toward Barcelona.
...
"Mom, I can't talk right now! The attendant was already giving me that look— I'm literally in the bathroom right now so I can answer this call, please stop calling me!"
Inside the narrow airplane lavatory, a teenage girl was half-whispering, half-yelling into her phone. Her voice echoed faintly off the sterile white walls, the plane's soft hum mixing with her frustration. The fluorescent light flickered slightly above her as she hunched over, trying to keep her voice low while balancing her phone on one hand and glaring at the mirror.
On the other end of the call, however, was a woman who didn't seem to care in the slightest about her daughter's current predicament.
"Is Olivia with you? When are you people landing? Your dad just left the house now to pick you girls up," her mother said briskly, ignoring Aina's earlier plea to end the call.
The girl—blonde hair cascading slightly past her shoulders, soft brown eyes, and a youthful glow that placed her somewhere between seventeen and eighteen—rolled her eyes in defeat. Her mother wasn't the kind of person who stopped talking until she got her answers. And Aina knew it. She'd lived with it her entire life.
"We should be landing in about twenty minutes," Aina sighed, trying to keep her voice steady despite her exasperation. "So Dad should be there by the time we land. And Mom, please— is Olivia your daughter? Because ever since I told you she's coming, it's been 'Olivia this, Olivia that.' I haven't heard my name in weeks!"
She couldn't help but complain a little. Since she'd told her mom about the trip, every single call had somehow turned into a conversation about her best friend. It was starting to feel like Olivia had replaced her in her own family.
Her mother didn't even pause to respond to that jab. "Aina, I'm your mother. Don't talk back. Make sure Olivia is cared for, alright? This is her first time in Barcelona, so this trip is more for her, understood?"
Aina's face twisted in disbelief, a sarcastic laugh almost escaping her lips. Of course it's more for Olivia. That was her mom's solution for everything. Still, she knew there was no point arguing.
"Okay, Mom," she said flatly, then quickly added, "Bye— someone's trying to use the toilet. See you soon!"
She started pulling the phone from her ear just as her mother's voice cut in again, "Oh, and your aunt Isabella is—"
—but the rest of the sentence never reached her. The call ended.
Aina exhaled sharply, letting out a groan that was half frustration, half relief. The kind you make when you've just survived a boss fight. A sharp knock came from the door, startling her.
"I'm coming!" she blurted, fumbling with the lock.
The moment she opened the door, a middle-aged man was practically hopping in place, his face twisted in agony. The second he saw her, he rushed past like a man possessed, brushing her shoulder slightly.
"Oh my God— I'm so sorry!" Aina said quickly, stepping aside. The man didn't even respond. He just groaned and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.
Aina blinked, then looked up— only to see one of the flight attendants watching the entire scene with a mix of amusement and pity. The woman's eyes softened, like she'd seen this kind of chaos a thousand times before.
Aina gave an awkward little smile and bowed her head slightly in embarrassment before slipping back down the aisle. The plane hummed steadily beneath her feet, the faint rustle of air and murmured conversations filling the cabin.
When she reached her seat, she finally saw her friend—Olivia.
Olivia Rodrigo. Her face glowed softly under the cabin light; sharp yet delicate features, perfect brown eyes that seemed to hold a whole storm of emotions even when she wasn't speaking, and that effortless beauty that made people look twice even when she was doing something as normal as scrolling through her phone. Her dark hair fell loosely across her shoulders, earphones in, her attention half on the screen, half lost in thought.
Aina didn't hesitate. She flopped right into her seat, leaned her head dramatically onto Olivia's shoulder, and groaned.
"Arghh" she said, dragging out the word with a sigh. "My mom is so, so annoying."
Olivia just laughed — that soft, melodic laugh that always sounded like sunshine, even in a cramped airplane cabin. She reached out and started gently petting Aina's head, her fingers brushing through the blonde strands like she was calming a kitten.
"Awnn, sorry baby," she said with a teasing pout. "I'm sure she just misses you, that's all."
Aina groaned, lifting her head just enough to look at her best friend.
"As if," she muttered, her voice half-muffled, half-annoyed. "She didn't even ask for me one bit. It's all Olivia this, Olivia that."
That made Olivia laugh even harder, her brown eyes crinkling as she covered her mouth. "You and your mom are something special. I honestly can't wait to see her again," she said between giggles.
Aina rolled her eyes, flicking her hair aside. "Yeah, good luck with that," she sighed. "Let's just forget about her for now." Her tone softened a little as she turned her head. "I saw you checking your phone so intensely—what's up? Everything okay?"
She reached for the small packet of airplane peanuts, tore it open with her teeth, and started eating a few one by one, half-curious, half-hungry.
Olivia, sitting by the window, rubbed her palms together absently. Her expression was somewhere between nervous and trying to look casual. "Well," she began slowly, "it's nothing serious."
Aina made a small "hmm" sound, chewing, clearly not believing her.
Olivia bit her lip, then finally said, "William just texted me. Apparently Deja Vu debuted in the Top 10 on Billboard. Also…" she shrugged lightly, pretending it wasn't a big deal. "…the label is asking."
Aina blinked. "Oh, that's nice," she said casually, tossing a few more peanuts into her mouth—
—and then froze.
Her eyes widened. She almost choked. She started coughing like crazy, thumping her chest as Olivia panicked beside her.
"Oh my God! Are you okay? Here—here, drink!" Olivia fumbled with a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and handed it over.
Aina snatched it, gulped fast, coughing between sips while Olivia rubbed her back, whispering, "Slowly, slowly—Jesus, don't die before we land!"
After a few seconds, Aina finally lowered the bottle, gasping, hair messy, eyes still wide. She didn't even say thanks—just pointed at Olivia with a trembling finger.
"Deja Vu did what??"
Olivia blinked at her like it was obvious. "Oh, that. It debuted at sixth on Billboard."
For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other—mouths slightly open, disbelief hanging thick in the recycled airplane air.
Then, at the exact same moment, both girls screamed.
A loud, high-pitched, teenage-movie kind of scream that made half the cabin turn around. The flight attendant hurried down the aisle, frowning.
"Excuse me, ladies—please keep it down, this is still a flight, not a concert."
They instantly bowed their heads, faces red, hands up in apology.
"Sorry!" they said in perfect sync, then turned toward each other and burst into quiet laughter.
Olivia leaned close, whispering, "Also… apparently the label wants me to make the album and debut it next month."
Aina's eyes widened again, like she'd just been electrocuted.
"Wait—next month?!"
The two looked at each other, and then another quiet scream slipped out—this one muffled by their hands as they started giggling uncontrollably, shaking in their seats.
Aina clutched Olivia's arm, whisper-shouting, "Oh my God—first 'Drivers License' debuts at number one, and now 'Deja Vu'? And now a whole album? Girl—you are literally a pop star!"
She stared at her best friend, half-laughing, half-in awe. "My best friend is a literal pop star…" she said again, like repeating it made it more real. But mid-sentence, her tone faltered. Her laughter faded just a little.
Because that's when she noticed Olivia fidgeting with her arm—subtle, nervous, like she was hiding something.
Aina noticed it immediately — the small twitch of Olivia's fingers, the way her eyes avoided hers, and how her smile didn't quite reach her face anymore. The playful air between them began to settle into something quieter.
"What's wrong?" Aina asked softly, leaning forward, her voice now sharper, more serious.
Olivia quickly laughed, brushing it off, waving her hand like nothing was happening. "Nothing's wrong," she said with that half-hearted grin that might have fooled anyone else — but not Aina.
Aina tilted her head, giving her that signature I-know-you're-lying look. "Olivia Isabel Rodrigo," she said, her tone commanding now, all traces of joking gone. "You're my best friend and my soulmate. I've known you for over half my life. I know when something's wrong. Now spill."
Olivia sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine…" she said quietly, her voice suddenly small. "It's about the album."
"The album?" Aina echoed, blinking.
For a moment, her eyes darted to her phone and then widened with realization. "Oh right! You'll have to work on it!" she said, her tone rising with panic. "Oh my God, what are we going to do?"
She started fumbling for her phone, opening flight apps like her brain was on autopilot. "Wait, let me check—there should be a flight heading back to the States later today. We can just—"
But Olivia reached over and caught her wrist mid-motion, shaking her head. "No, Aina," she said firmly.
Aina blinked at her, confused. "If it's about my mom, don't worry," she said quickly. "I'm sure she'll understand. You can come another time if you need to. I'll explain everything."
Olivia's expression softened, but she didn't let go of her hand. "No, Aina, it's not that. The album's almost done," she said. "It's just one song left — half done, really. I can finish it anywhere. You know why I had to leave the States right now…"
Her voice trailed off. Her eyes flickered down to the seat in front of her. "…It's also not that trust me I'm over it. It's just—"
Aina dropped her phone on the armrest, turning fully toward her. "It's just what?"
Olivia hesitated. Her hands twisted together in her lap before she finally spoke, the words falling out one after the other, soft and trembling.
"It's just that… what if they hate it? What if the first two songs were just… luck or coincidence? What if they hate the album? What if I'm not as talented as I thought I was? What if the past ones were just flukes, Aina?"
Her voice cracked slightly at the end.
Aina's heart clenched. "Oh, Olivia, that's not—" she began, leaning in—
But before she could finish, the captain's voice suddenly filled the cabin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We'll be landing at the Barcelona–El Prat Airport in approximately ten minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for descent."
Aina looked at Olivia, still half-worried, half-determined, and said firmly, "Wear your seatbelt. This isn't over."
Olivia gave a tiny, defeated smile, and the two girls buckled up in silence as the plane began its slow descent.
After talking things out as best as they could through the hum of the engines, the girls finally landed in Barcelona International Airport.
The cabin filled with the shuffle of passengers standing, the rustle of overhead bins, and the excited chatter of people who'd just reached a new world. For Aina, it was more than just a trip — it was a return. Her heart raced as she stepped out of the plane, the smell of the Spanish air instantly hitting her like an embrace from home. After years of studying and acting in the States, she was finally back on her own soil.
As for Olivia — this was something entirely new. Despite the doubts still swirling quietly in her chest, the moment she stepped into the terminal and saw the gleaming architecture, the sunlight pouring through wide glass walls, and the bursts of Spanish voices echoing all around, she felt something shift.
The airport was a mosaic of life — travelers chatting in rapid Catalan and Spanish, cafés serving fresh churros and espresso, the faint sound of flamenco guitar from a nearby souvenir shop. The warm, lively rhythm of it all seemed to wrap around her heart.
For the first time since they took off, Olivia Rodrigo felt calm.
Moving her bags through the arrival hall, Olivia took in everything around her — the wide, sunlit concourse, the smell of fresh espresso from a nearby café, the chatter of people in Spanish and Catalan, the scent of warm pastries drifting from the airport kiosks. All the while, she listened to Aina, who had suddenly become a living guide, giving her the full run-down of Barcelona despite not having been back in six years. Both of them had been trapped in the whirlwind of shows in the United States — the most popular being Bizaardvark — and Olivia could see in the way Aina spoke that she hadn't just remembered the city, she had lived it in her mind all this time.
"They still sell those little churro stands near La Rambla," Aina said, a grin stretching across her face. "And they still expect you to speak Spanish everywhere, but honestly, plenty of people here speak English, so you don't have always speak Spanish. Oh! And we have to go to that tiny gelato place I loved when I was small my mom said they were still around. Don't make me memorize the menu in Spanish though, please. Ugh." She laughed, her words tumbling out, half rant, half nostalgia, her hands gesturing animatedly as only a teenager could. "And if we pass by the cathedral, promise me you won't make me say tres veces the names of all the saints. I've done that enough times, and it's ridiculous!"
Olivia smiled at everything Aina said, nodding along, soaking in both the quirks of the city and the genuine love in her friend's voice. But then, suddenly, Aina stopped. She went silent mid-sentence, her words hanging in the air. Olivia glanced at her, puzzled.
Aina's eyes were glassy, her gaze distant, and a single, faint tear hovered before sliding down her cheek. Olivia's heart sank. Aina? She thought, panicking internally. Her strong-willed, always-in-control friend… crying?
Before Olivia could speak, Aina whispered softly, almost breaking the air with the word: "Papa."
Olivia froze. Papa? Her eyes widened in shock. She watched as Aina bolted ahead, almost tripping over her own feet, and then leapt into the arms of a man waiting near the arrival gate.
The man was in his fifties, slightly round in build, with a kind, weathered face that lit up with pure joy as he embraced his daughter. His eyes, red from emotion, mirrored Aina's own tears. They held each other tightly, neither speaking, only breathing each other in, lost in the moment of reunion. Olivia stepped back, giving them space, her lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. She had known Aina missed her father desperately — far more than her mother, who had visited them often in the U.S. Olivia had never even met him before. And now, seeing the two of them together, the emotion so raw and pure, she understood completely.
After letting them have a moment, Olivia approached just as the hug began to loosen. "Hello, Mr. Cerdà," she said politely, her voice soft but clear. "I'm—"
The man broke into laughter, cutting her off. "Oo, you must be Olivia! I've heard so much about you, ha ha! How are you? It's so good to finally meet the young girl my daughter is always talking about."
He reached down to rub Aina's head playfully. "Papa, stop!" Aina squeaked, swatting his hand away with a half-smile, still clutching him tightly. Olivia couldn't help but laugh, witnessing this new, playful side of her always-put-together friend.
"Thank you so much for caring for Aina here," the man said, extending his hand to Olivia. "I know she can be a handful sometimes."
Aina whimpered softly, snuggling closer. "Papa…"
Olivia shook her head, smiling. "It's no bother at all, Mr. Cerdà. Aina is like a sister to me and a second daughter to my parents — it was truly our pleasure to host her."
Aina glanced at Olivia, her eyes glimmering with a tender, unspoken understanding. Olivia returned the look, equally warm, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between them.
The father laughed heartily. "Good, good, good. And please — call me Oriol. None of that 'Mr.' stuff."
He then gestured toward the girls' luggage. "Oo, let me help you with your bags."
Olivia quickly interjected, "Oo, don't worry, sir—"
But Oriol waved her off, scooping the bags with ease despite his round frame. "Let me worry about it," he said with a chuckle. Olivia raised an eyebrow in surprise as she realized the weight he carried was far more than just physical. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"Papa, come help me carry mine too!" Aina called cheerfully.
"Of course, my princess," Oriol replied, smiling as he handed her bag over.
Olivia watched the father-daughter duo with a warm heart. All the stress of the album, the doubts, the worries about her career — it all melted away. She had taken this one-month break intentionally, a chance to recharge and just enjoy life. Let's try to enjoy this, Olivia thought. This trip is for fun. I won't spoil it.
And for Olivia Rodrigo — already now a rising pop sensation with two songs in the top ten of the Billboard charts — stepping out of the airport into the warm Spanish sunlight, surrounded by history, color, and the laughter of her best friend, she finally allowed herself to breathe. One single month. One month to enjoy, laugh, and be free.
Little did she know, in that simple small one month where she thought she would just relax and it would be a nice small vacation, she would encounter someone who would matter to her more than life itself.
13.97 kilometres from each other
A/N
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