The rain was falling hard, slanted, pushed by the sea wind. Droplets ran down the window like slow tears, turning the garden into a mosaic of lights and shadows.
Naiara saw him. There, motionless, in the middle of the storm.
Leo stood still under the rain, his shirt clinging to his body, his breath rough and wild, as if he were fighting something unseen. Every muscle in him was tense, restrained, but the lines of his jaw betrayed a silent rage.
Her heartbeat quickened. She should have turned away, closed the curtains, pretended not to see him. But she couldn't.
The house was empty, her parents gone for the night. Only the sound of the rain. And that man outside.
That man who had warned her. Who had touched her like no one ever had.
She grabbed the key from the counter and went out.
The air hit her face: cold, sharp, smelling of salt.
Each step on the gravel matched the rhythm of her pulse.
When she was just a few meters away, she shouted over the storm:
"Why don't you tell me the truth?"
Leo lifted his head slightly, but said nothing.
The rain slid down his neck, disappearing beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt.
"Why are you pretending you don't know me?"
Silence. Only the sound of the tempest.
"Go back inside, Miss Moreno," he said at last, too calmly, the kind of calm that only exists right before something breaks.
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, stepping closer. "Look at me, Leo!"
He stiffened. He shouldn't have reacted, but he did. Their eyes met, for one, endless second. And in that gaze there was everything: memory, desire, fear.
"You warned me about my father," she said, her voice trembling. "It was you! And now I want to know why!"
Leo inhaled slowly, holding his breath as if it were the only way to stay in control.
"Miss Moreno," he replied evenly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
She took a step forward and pushed his chest with both hands.
"Stop lying to me!"
The wet shirt stuck to his skin, revealing the strength beneath it.
A low sound escaped his lips, deep, instinctive.
A sound she had heard before.
A sound that made her heart explode in her chest.
She froze. Time stopped.
When Naiara looked into his eyes, she saw a storm: grey, green, light and darkness all at once. A sea in turmoil trapped in a single gaze.
Her breath caught, her hands still against his chest.
The rain fell between them, but it wasn't enough to extinguish the fire that surrounded them.
She took a step closer. Just one. And that single step erased every boundary.
His breath was warm, cutting through the rain.
She could feel it against her skin.
She could smell him: rain, salt, and something metallic, primal.
Leo closed his eyes for a moment, fighting something invisible inside himself.
When he opened them again, there was the power of a wave breaking against the rocks.
"You're too close," he whispered.
The words were low, rough, cracked. Not a warning.
A confession.
Naiara didn't move. She felt his breath deepen, his chest rising in sync with hers.
Every fiber of him seemed suspended between restraint and surrender.
"Then tell me the truth, and I'll walk away," she said. Her voice shook. It wasn't a threat, it was a promise.
Leo stepped back, but not enough.
His hands flexed slowly at his sides, as if reminding himself how to breathe.
"You don't understand, Naiara," he murmured. "It's not me who should stay away from you. It's you who should run from me."
The words cut through her.
"Run?"
"Yes," he said. "Because if I stay… I'll destroy you."
And those words, so simple, so final, froze her. The world narrowed, and something inside her broke open.
It wasn't Leo anymore. It wasn't the rain.
It was him.
Her ex.
Leo's voice mixed with another, darker one.
"You're mine. No one will ever touch you again."
She saw it all again: his distorted face, the rage in his eyes, the hands pinning her against the wall, the smell of blood and sweat, the screams no one heard.
Her knees gave way.
The rain drenched her face, but every drop felt like a blade against her skin.
Her heart raced too fast, too hard.
She gasped, clutching her arms around herself, trying to silence the echo of that voice screaming in her head.
The flash of a knife. The warmth spreading over her skin. The blood down her side.
The cold floor. The fear that had stolen her breath. And then, darkness.
Naiara let out a broken sound, halfway between a sob and a scream.
She was back in the garden, under the rain, but her body didn't know it.
Every muscle trembled as if she were still there, trapped in that night.
Every breath was a wound reopening.
She bent over, clutching her side, right where the scar had slept for years.
But now it burned, alive again, as if it had never healed.
Rain poured over her face, dripping from her lashes and her lips. She couldn't tell where the water ended and the tears began.
And in that moment, she understood that fear had never truly left her.
It had only waited, hidden deep inside her, for someone to bring it back to the surface.