The days began to shorten, and already several months had passed since their first meeting, that October morning when they didn't yet know they would change each other's lives.
The sun, more timid now, caressed the city with a golden, almost nostalgic light.
Catarina and Althéa knew summer was coming to an end, but neither dared to say it aloud, as if voicing the passing of time could make it flee faster.
They continued to see each other, again and again. One evening out of two, a stolen afternoon, an impromptu stroll through the city streets.
They had their rituals: sharing a café au lait, taking a Polaroid each week, a promise to be "always there," even when life changed. Promises only seventeen-year-old souls dare make.
One afternoon, they took refuge in an old bookstore in the city center.
The smell of pages, the soft rustle of paper, everything felt suspended.
Althéa read passages from a novel aloud, exaggerating the emotions, making Catarina laugh.
Then, without warning, she asked:
"Do you think we can really know someone?"
"Hmm…"
"Like really, to the core?"
"Maybe not."
"Even when we love them?"
"Especially when we love them."
"Why?"
"Because to love is to want to understand what we can never fully grasp."
Althéa smiled.
"You always have poet answers, huh?"
"Or cowardly ones, maybe."
They laughed softly. But behind that laughter, something vibrated, a faint, almost imperceptible fear. Catarina had always avoided truths too clear-cut.
Another night, they found themselves under the rain. Not by chance. They had called each other at the same time, without planning it.
Two "Are you awake?" messages sent at the exact same second. And then, the need to go out, to breathe, to be together.
Under the trembling streetlamps, Althéa twirled in the water. Her hair clung to her face, yet she laughed, free, radiant.
Catarina, soaked, watched her, fascinated by the light she carried even through storms.
"Aren't you scared?" asked Catarina.
"All the time."
"You don't show it."
"Neither do you. But I dance with it. You hide it."
Catarina stayed still. Then, in a burst of impulse, she raised her arms, mimicking her friend, splashing the water around them.
They burst out laughing, screaming their joy into the night, like two girls lost in a world too big.
When the rain stopped, they remained there, breathless, hearts pounding.
Althéa looked at her and said softly:
"Promise me we'll never get lost."
"I promise."
Catarina said it sincerely. But somewhere, a voice was already whispering that it was a lie. That no promise can withstand the weight of secrets.
The last weeks of summer carried the taste of things coming to an end. Too loud laughter, photos taken too late, sentences left hanging.
One evening, returning from a festival, Althéa fell asleep on the train, her head resting on Catarina's shoulder. She still held in her hand a friendship bracelet they had made earlier.
Catarina watched her for a long time. Sleep suited her, erasing the subtle sadness that sometimes lingered in her eyes. She wanted to say thank you, for the light, for the patience, for a friendship that had healed something she thought was dead.
But the words stuck. So she closed her eyes in turn, letting the train carry them into the night. And when she opened them a little later, she felt that strange, fleeting sensation, that the world had just changed imperceptibly.
Something was coming. Something she could not name, but felt approaching, slowly, silently.
And in the reflection of the window, two faces side by side, two destinies already tangled without knowing it.