Morning light slipped through the curtains, drawing pale lines across the room.
Naiara stayed still for a moment, her breath caught halfway in her chest.
Then she rose, showered, and let the warm water slide down her skin until it almost burned.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes held the same brightness as the days when you try to look fine, even when you're not.
She put on a soft cream dress and a light cardigan, then opened the door.
Leo was there, standing in the hallway, tall, composed, that unreadable calm that was somehow always centered on her.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning, Miss Moreno."
"I'm going to Clara's," she told him. "I need to talk to her."
"For your father's orders, you can't…"
"Leo, please. I need this."
He hesitated. For a heartbeat too long, the muscle along his jaw tightened, and something flickered behind his eyes. Then he stepped aside. Silent permission.
Naiara walked past him. She could almost feel his warmth brushing her skin, a wave that didn't touch her but still moved her.
She didn't turn back. She left.
Clara's house smelled of coffee and orange jam. Sunlight fell through half-open blinds onto a small table covered with a checkered cloth. Two cups. A plate of sliced brioche.
Clara opened the door with a grin and pulled Naiara into a hug that loosened her shoulders.
"Sit down, my tragic muse. I made coffee, okay, maybe I burned it, but it's made with love."
Naiara smiled, wrapping her hands around the cup. "Clara…"
"Mhm?"
"I…" She hesitated only a second. "We… did stuff."
Clara's mouth fell open, then she burst out laughing, the sound like glass chimes.
"With that gorgeous man? You lucky, lucky woman!"
"Clara!" Naiara covered her eyes, half laughing, half mortified.
"But it's true!" Clara clapped her hands on the table, bright as sunlight.
Naiara told Clara everything, every detail... Clara occasionally interrupted her with a few giggles or grimaces of appreciation.
"And after?" Clara urged her with curiosity.
"After he turned to ice. Like he's hiding something."
Clara lifted a brow. "Maybe he is, but… come on, Nay, it's not like you're marrying him! Enjoy yourself for once!"
"I know. You're right." She looked down at her cup. "It's just… what I feel for him, I've never felt before. I don't know how to handle it."
"First of all," Clara said, leaning in, "if he meant to hurt you, he already would have. And second, a man who gives you pleasure and asks for nothing back? He deserves a statue!"
They both laughed so hard they had to wipe tears from their cheeks.
When their laughter faded, Clara rested her chin on her hand.
"Here's what I think. Take the lead for once. Tease him until he breaks. You'll see, he'll give in."
"Clara, I'm not that kind of woman! What if he rejects me? I'd die of embarrassment!"
"Nay, have you even seen the way he looks at you? He devours you with his eyes! Add some spice to your life, it won't kill you!"
Naiara gave her an exaggerated shocked face, then softened. "You know what scares me? If I push him and he loses control, even for a second, if he grabs me too hard, I panic. I'm right back there. That's why I stop myself. That's why I've never let a man touch me again."
Clara's teasing vanished. She reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Naiara's ear.
"Then tell him. Be honest. The moment he crosses the line, tell him. That's how you'll know if he cares. If he does, he'll stop. If he doesn't… that's your answer."
Naiara's throat tightened. "I love you, Clara. You know that?"
"Of course I know! Without me, you'd have cobwebs growing on you!"
They both laughed again, the kind of laughter that belongs to people who have survived too much.
When Naiara reached the gate, Clara shouted from the door,
"Let that dove out of its cage for once!"
Naiara turned, blushing. "Clara! Stop!"
Clara blew her a kiss. "See you later!"
The gallery waited for her: wide, clean, smelling faintly of wood and paint.
Leo was already there, talking quietly with a lighting technician. When he saw her, he ended the conversation with a short nod. That same calm distance slipped back over him like armor.
The morning went by in small tasks: lights, frames, phone calls.
Two artists came by, a painter wearing a straw hat and a sculptor with marble dust on her hands. Naiara greeted them with professional ease, but in the corner of her eye, Leo was always there. Always one step behind. Always watching.
By afternoon, Clara showed up, overloaded with frames and labels.
"Are we finishing today or should I start printing name tags on sticky notes?" she joked.
"We're finishing," Naiara said with new determination.
The air grew heavy. Outside, the sky darkened to a bruised gray.
Naiara decided to follow Clara's advice, not all at once, but carefully, like testing deep water.
She started small: brushing past Leo as she moved between boxes, her hand lightly grazing his arm.
"Sorry," she said softly, and that single word carried a tremor he could feel in his chest.
Later, she bent down to pick up a fallen label near him. Her shoulder brushed his side.
Leo's jaw tightened, his hand froze mid-air adjusting the lamp.
Clara caught the exchange and winked. Naiara bit her lip, fighting a smile.
"Audio test," the technician said. A low rhythm filled the room.
"Not this one," Leo said quietly. "We need silence when people walk in."
The technician nodded and turned the music off.
Outside, rain began to fall, first gentle, then harder. The sound deepened until it became a roar.
Clara's phone rang. She looked at it, sighed. "My mom," she muttered, already worried.
"Yes, Mom… calm down, I'm coming."
She hung up and faced them. "I have to go. I'll text you when I get there."
"Go," Naiara said.
Clara touched her shoulder. "Breathe. And stop being perfect all the time."
She left in a rush.
Moments later, hail started hammering against the windows, sharp and loud.
"We can't go out in this," Leo said. "We'll wait it out."
Naiara nodded, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the storm.
"I'll finish organizing the storeroom while we wait."
He didn't stop her.
The storeroom was small, lined with tall shelves and boxes labeled in marker.
Only one warm light glowed above, creating a soft island of yellow. The air smelled of new paper and wood dust.
Naiara stepped inside first, tying her hair up with a band. That simple gesture revealed the curve of her neck. Leo saw it, couldn't not see it.
"I'll grab the two top boxes," she said. "The ones for the labels."
"I'll get them."
"I can reach." Her smile wasn't defiance, it was trust, disguised as play.
She climbed one step up the small stool and stretched. Her fingers brushed the edge of the box, just out of reach.
Leo moved closer, silently, until he stood right behind her. His hand reached over hers, steady, sure.
Their knuckles brushed. The moment stopped breathing.
He took the box down easily, handing it to her. She didn't take it right away.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Outside, the hail kept pounding like a restless drum. The light flickered once, humming softly.
She set the box on the table and opened it. "There are more than I thought."
"Half will be enough."
"Sure." She began arranging the tags, aware of his gaze tracing the movement of her hands, her shoulders, the rhythm of her breath. Something inside her shifted. She turned to face him.
"You know," she said, her voice quiet but clear, "Clara says I should stop being afraid of what I want."
The words hung in the air between them.
Leo didn't move. "Clara says a lot of things."
"This one's true."
A thunderclap rolled outside. The lamp buzzed.
Naiara took half a step forward, close enough to feel his breath, to see the tension in his jaw.
She didn't touch him. But the distance between them suddenly felt deafening.
"Why did you turn to ice after?" she asked. "That night."
His throat worked. "Because it was right."
"For who?"
Silence. Rain answered for him. He looked away, as if to find discipline somewhere far from her. When he looked back, his eyes were darker.
"Don't push me, Naiara."
She smiled faintly. "Clara would say the opposite."
Another half-step. Close enough that her scent touched him: warm skin, paint, rain.
She lifted her hand slowly, stopping just above his chest.
"You don't have to control everything, Leo."
Her voice trembled a little on his name. It vibrated against his skin like a secret.
He closed his eyes for a second, fighting something he didn't name. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I know exactly what I'm asking for: the truth. The one you hide every time you look at me like I'm a problem to solve."
The neon light hummed louder. The air felt charged.
Leo stepped back half a pace, discipline crawling back into his spine. "We should wait for the hail to stop."
"Let's wait," she said, and the words meant something else entirely.
She went back to work, feeling his gaze burn against her. When she reached for a roll of tape, the fabric of her dress shifted; the cardigan slid down her wrist, revealing a small patch of skin where her pulse beat visibly.
He didn't move. But his body spoke through stillness.
"You know what's funny?" she said, her back turned. "The closer you get, the safer I feel."
A pause. "And the more I'm afraid of you."
"I can't stand to see the fear in your eyes when you look at me."
"You already said it," Nay said looking him straight in the eyes.
"I meant it."
"Then prove it."
He lifted his chin slightly. "How? By staying? By leaving?"
"By staying here. With me. No soldier. Just… Leo."
Her voice cracked on his name. It hit him like a slow blow to the chest.
He took one step forward. Small. Enough.
The air changed temperature.
Naiara's heart stumbled in her ribs, not from fear, but recognition.
"Clara says I should tease you until you break," she said with a soft, dangerous smile.
His jaw flexed. "Clara has no idea how dangerous that is."
"Dangerous for who?"
"For both of us."
They stood facing each other, the storm outside fading, the one inside only growing louder. A gust of wind rattled the back door; something metal rolled across the floor.
Neither of them moved.
Naiara set the labels aside and stepped closer, stopping right in front of him.
"Are you afraid, Leo?"