The rest of the day passed like a blur. Every minute dragged as if it carried twice the number of seconds. I tried to distract myself: opened books, but the words slipped away like water without ever sticking. Folded clothes that were already folded, cleaned a table that was already spotless. Anything to keep myself busy.
In the afternoon, I invented a trip to the corner store. I wandered the aisles without hurry, picking fruit, cookies, things I didn't really need. It was in the glass of the window that I noticed it: my eyes weren't searching the shelves, but my own reflection. Hair too messy, a blouse that didn't flatter much, hurried steps. I realized I cared about my appearance in a way I never had before—as if, unconsciously, I was preparing to be seen.
When the sun began to dip, a golden light spilled through my window and painted my room with melancholy. I took a deep breath, sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully chose what to wear. A light blue dress, fabric flowing easily with the body. The hem brushed just above my knees, and the thin straps left my shoulders bare. I paired it with pale sandals and tied my hair in a low bun—but didn't like it. I let it loose again. Nothing seemed right. Deep down, I just wanted to look beautiful… beautiful in his eyes.
With only a few minutes left before eight, I grabbed the black jacket Rafael had draped over my shoulders in the library. It was long past time to give it back. I held it tight against my chest, as if it were an excuse for my nervousness.
I opened the door. The fresh night air wrapped around me, and there he was—leaning casually against the low garden fence, hands in his pockets, body relaxed. At the sound of the door, he lifted his eyes to me.
I don't know if it was the contrast between the yellow glow of the streetlight or the soft clarity of the moon, but in that moment I was sure: I had never seen anyone so beautiful. The dark shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, the light carved sharp lines across his face, the strong jaw, strands of hair falling messily over his forehead, and his gaze… his gaze felt like it could pierce straight through me.
I descended the stairs with trembling legs, my stomach twisting in a strange mix of cold and heat. I tried desperately to seem natural, but every step betrayed me.
"I thought you'd be late," he said, no smile, voice low. Low enough to feel intimate.
"I've never been late for anything important." The words slipped out before I could think. Only when I saw his eyebrow arch slightly did I realize how bold it sounded.
We walked side by side. The neighborhood was calm, only a few cars passing in the distance, the muffled sound of a television spilling from an open window. I had no idea where we were going and, strangely, I didn't ask. Rafael seemed to know exactly the way—and that was enough for me.
After a few minutes, we reached a small corner restaurant, wooden windows with sheer curtains. The yellow lighting made it warm, and the smell of homemade food filled the air. It wasn't sophisticated, but in that moment it felt exactly right.
We sat near the window. Rafael called the waiter and ordered two plates of beef stew with potatoes and vegetables. I smiled, surprised, but before I could ask, he explained quietly:
"It was the dish my mom used to make almost every Sunday. I never asked my dad to cook it… I don't want him to think it still makes me sad."
My chest tightened with tenderness. It was as if he had opened a hidden part of his memory just to share it with me. And suddenly, that stew wasn't just a meal. It was a piece of his life.
"It must be a good memory," I murmured.
He nodded, eyes fixed on the plate as if the memory had been served along with the food.
"So this is where you wanted to bring me?" I asked softly, half-laughing."It doesn't have to be expensive to be good," he replied simply.
I looked at him longer than I should have. I thought about everything people said, the rumors whispered in the university halls. And I thought about what I saw there: a boy sharing with me a simple meal that meant everything.
While we ate, we talked about anything—series, music, funny stories. Nothing about exams, nothing about the university. Just us. When I stood, I paid the bill as I had promised.
"Now I'm not in debt to you anymore," I teased.
As we left the restaurant, he suddenly said:"I want to show you something."
Before I could ask, he took my hand and walked quickly, pulling me toward the bus stop where a bus had just arrived. I climbed aboard without thinking, my heart pounding. I sat beside him, still breathless, trying to understand what was happening. The bus was nearly empty, its lights flickering with every curve, and at one moment Rafael took my hand again. The gesture made me shiver. I was still far from getting used to how effortlessly he broke down my defenses.
We got off a few stops later. Rafael led the way, guiding me through the higher streets of the city. Little by little, the houses gave way as we climbed a hill.
At the top, we stopped at a nearly empty overlook. A few faint lamps lit the stone ground and a lonely bench faced the view.
"Close your eyes," he said, his voice softer than I had ever heard.
I obeyed, curious, letting him guide me a few more steps. I felt the cold wind on my face, his hand steady in mine, positioning me exactly where he wanted. Then I heard his voice again, quiet:
"Now, open them."
When I did, I lost my breath. The whole city stretched below us, thousands of lights glowing like stars pinned to the ground. Above, the real stars shone just as brightly, and for an instant I felt suspended between two worlds.
"You said you wanted to spend your first days of break getting to know the city. So… I want you to see it from up here."
Emotion caught in my throat."I don't remember the last time I felt like this…" I whispered.
He didn't answer. He just looked at me in a way that made my heart race. Then the rain began—sudden, heavy, without warning. I gasped softly, startled, but before Rafael could pull me under the overlook's shelter, I grabbed his arm and started laughing.
"Relax, Rafael!" I said, opening my arms. "Welcome the rain!"
He watched me, hesitant, then finally gave in. We stayed there, soaked, laughing like children, with the whole city shining at our feet.
And then, before I realized, Rafael was very close, leaning slightly toward me. My body reacted first, stepping back, but then I froze, unable to move.
"What are you doing?" I asked, frightened by my own heart, which felt like it might leap out of my chest.
"If you don't want to, you can step away," he whispered, calm.
I swallowed hard."And if I don't?"
He paused, then murmured:"Then I'd be very happy."
I closed my eyes, making it clear I wanted it too. I felt the warmth of his lips against mine. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he feared going too fast. But soon I sensed a hidden intensity, a restrained desire revealed little by little—care, longing, vulnerability. Every second carried unspoken feelings, and the longer he held me close, the more I knew this wasn't just a moment… it was a silent confession.
The cold rain slid across my skin, but the warmth of the kiss erased every shiver. My heart pounded so hard it seemed to echo through my whole body. For an instant, I lost all sense of where we were. It was as if the world had dissolved into water and silence, leaving only the two of us, bound in an instant I knew I'd never forget.
His lips were still brushing mine when the rain grew heavier. Rafael slipped his arm around my back and, without hesitation, guided me quickly under the overlook's shelter. We stood there, breathless, clothes heavy with water. I could barely look at him. My face burned, my hands trembled. It had been my first kiss… of course I felt shy.
But when I dared to lift my eyes, I noticed something unexpected: Rafael seemed just as lost. He avoided my gaze, fiddled with his hands, as timid as I was. That side of him made him even more beautiful.
"If we stay here, we'll freeze…" he said with a soft smile. "And the last bus will pass soon."
Before I could answer, he took my hand again and ran with me toward the stop.
The way back was quiet, but not empty. He rubbed my hands between his, warming them, caring for me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I didn't need words. Just feeling was enough.
When we reached the gate, he looked at me briefly."Take a hot shower and rest."
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. He turned toward the street.
"And you? You'll go out like this, all wet?" I asked, worried.
He gave me a calm, almost serious look."You can't run away from what you have to do. Everyone has their duties… and I need to take care of mine."
And without another word, he disappeared into the vastness of the night.