When the taxi turned the last corner, my heart beat in that same strange rhythm it finds when life decides to take turns we never imagined it would.
The house appeared in front of us… exactly the same and completely different.
And it was the second I looked to the side that I realized: Rafael's face wasn't neutral, or distant, or in his usual guarded mode.
There was something there… a silent recognition, an impact he didn't say out loud, but that was written plainly in his eyes.
And like a delayed punch, the memory hit me—one I should have connected earlier.
That was his house.The door we were about to open was the door he had walked through countless times.The living room where he learned to walk.The kitchen where his mother cooked.The bedroom where he slept until everything was taken from him all at once.
And he came with me… he offered to come with me, without knowing he'd have to face all of this… and I hadn't thought about it when I accepted.
My chest tightened with guilt.
I should have remembered. I should have noticed. I should have spared him from revisiting a place that had hurt so much.
But he was there, breathing in that air full of past… and I felt ashamed for not having thought of it sooner.
He got out first, stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, hands in his pockets, as if trying to fit that place back inside his chest. I knew that gesture well… him gathering memories he never says out loud.
And I… I felt memory pass through me too. That was the house where my family rebuilt itself the only way it could… and the house where his broke for the first time.
Two different weights, at the same address.
— Rafa… — I called softly.
He turned his face slowly.
— It's been a long time — he murmured, voice low, almost a hoarse whisper. — A very long time.
I gripped the strap of my backpack tightly, trying to keep my body steady. If there was one emotion I had never seen in him, it was that one. The way his eyes traced the façade of the house, slowly, as if every brick carried a memory stuck to it.
— Should we… go in? — I asked, even though I knew it wasn't really a question.
He nodded and took the first step.
The door creaked the same way it always had, and suddenly we were two children walking back into the place where everything began… and two adults trying to deal with what that "beginning" meant now.
I took a deep breath.
— Rafael… — I called softly. — I'm sorry.
He turned his face slowly, brow furrowed.
— Sorry for what?
I swallowed.
— For bringing you here — I murmured. — For making you come back to… all of this. I should have thought about it. I should have understood this could be hard for you.
He blinked slowly, as if trying to understand where that was coming from.
— Helena… — he said, with a steady calm, almost serious. — I knew we'd probably end up coming here. I knew this was your house. And even so, I came. Because I wanted to.
I shook my head.
— I didn't know you knew… but still, I should have thought about it. I should have imagined that coming back here could hurt you. I only found out recently that you had lived here.
Rafael looked down the hallway—the hallway he knew by heart, even after so many years. The hallway I thought I knew better than anyone.
— That room… was mine — he said, looking at the door of my bedroom. — Now that I'm here, it's not my mother's illness that comes back. Not the move. Not the day we left.
He took a step toward me.
— What came back was something else — he continued, his voice lower. — The house full… my dad fixing everything that broke… my mom asking if I had eaten… the smell of her bread in the morning. I remembered good things.
The air caught in my chest.
— Even so… — I tried.
— Helena. — He cut me off, low and definitive. — You didn't bring me to a place that hurts. You brought me to a place where a part of me grew. That's different.
My eyes burned, but I held it together.
He took a deep breath, looking back into the house, as if finally deciding he could enter fully.
— And there's something else — he added, turning his gaze to me. — It doesn't matter where it is. If you need me, I'll go.
A shiver ran up my spine.
We stood there for a few seconds, in the middle of the living room, caught in a silence that said more than any declaration. Then I breathed in deeply and tried to pull reality back into place.
— We… need to eat something — I murmured, discreetly wiping the corner of my eye. — You must be starving after the trip.
Rafael shook his head, as if that didn't matter at all, but his stomach chose to disagree the very next second—a low growl that almost made me smile.
— Okay — I said, heading to the kitchen. — If you keep standing there looking at me like that, I can't even think. You can take your things to my room — I said, pointing down the hallway. — My… I mean, your room. The one that used to be yours.
Rafael froze in place.
His mouth opened a millimeter. A deep color rose to his face, and I felt my own throat warm in response.
— I mean… — I rushed to add. — You'll stay there. I'll sleep in my parents' room. I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch, right?
He blinked slowly, took a deep breath, and nodded. Still red.
— Okay — he murmured, picking up his backpack. — Just… tell me where you want me to leave it.
I smiled, shy.
— In the room — I repeated softly. — You can leave it there.
He turned toward the hallway and went in.
I stayed there, in the middle of the kitchen that had once been mine and had once been his, feeling the air shift. As if that simple step he took crossing the bedroom door carried old memories… and opened space for new ones.
I felt that we weren't just two visitors in each other's past.
We were two presents, trying to fit into the same place.