Judit
Si antes estaba confundida, ahora lo estoy aún más. Creí tontamente que estar con Mel haría desaparecer todo ese deseo, esa atracción atormentadora. Pero no fue así. Al contrario... Podría jurar que se ha intensificado, que se ha convertido en algo más profundo. Y eso me asusta.
El coche avanzaba lentamente hacia la mansión y mi mente era un torbellino. Sabía que era hora de hablar con Mel, pero no tenía ni idea de cómo. Durante toda esa semana en Alaska, habíamos evitado la conversación; nos habíamos rendido, entregados al momento y a la pasión que ardía entre nosotros. Ahora, sin embargo, el silencio se sentía como un muro que nos separaba. No sabía si a ella le había pasado lo mismo o si simplemente se había dejado llevar por el deseo. Si así fuera, entonces todo debería volver a la normalidad... aunque, sinceramente, no estaba segura de poder lograrlo.
Ese pensamiento me aterraba. Si Mel actuaba como si nada hubiera pasado, si se comportaba como siempre, entonces tal vez yo era quien lo había malinterpretado todo. En ese caso, no tendría más remedio que fingir, seguir adelante, mantener las apariencias hasta que llegara el divorcio y todo esto quedara atrás.
Pero no pude evitar mirarla de reojo. Estaba sentada a mi lado, serena, con el rostro sereno, como si no hubiéramos compartido noches interminables de amor y deseo esa semana. Como si no conociera cada rincón de mi cuerpo, como si yo no conociera el suyo. Su calma me angustiaba. No tenía ni idea de lo que estaba pensando, y eso me consumía. Quizás creía que todo había sido fugaz, sin importancia. Tal vez, para ella, yo era solo otra Jade en su vida.
Sin embargo, algo no encajaba. Una frase suya resonaba en mi mente una y otra vez: «Respeto tu relación con Amber». En ese momento, lo comprendí. Lo que vi en sus ojos no era indiferencia; era dolor.
Sin darme cuenta, llegamos a la mansión. Todo se sentía borroso, como si estuviera actuando en una escena que no recordaba haber ensayado. Entré, saludé a todos mecánicamente e incluso le dije a Nicholas que estábamos agotados del viaje. Luego, junto con Mel, subimos a nuestra habitación. Hice todo en piloto automático mientras mi mente permanecía atrapada en el caos de mis pensamientos.
Al cerrar la puerta, me volví hacia ella. Mel estaba allí de pie, en silencio, como si supiera que ese era el momento que habíamos estado evitando. Sus ojos la delataban: algo se había roto en su interior. Mis sospechas se confirmaron al ver su expresión, esa mezcla de tristeza y resignación que me desgarraba el alma.
"Mel... ¿te gusto?", pregunté con un nudo en la garganta, temiendo la respuesta.
Negó con la cabeza suavemente, sin apenas moverse. Por un instante, sentí que me faltaba el aire. Qué idiota, pensé, por creer que podía significar algo más.
Pero entonces ella habló, interrumpiendo mis pensamientos.
—No, Judith —dijo con voz temblorosa, mirándome directamente a los ojos—. No solo me gustas... Me enamoré de ti.
The world seemed to stop. My eyes widened; no, this wasn't supposed to happen.
"No… no," I denied, incredulous. "You must be confused… or misinterpreting it," I continued, not knowing if I was trying to convince her or myself.
But deep down, a part of me already knew the truth: neither of us would ever be the same after that confession.
"Judith, I'm sorry," Mel apologized, slowly approaching me. "I wish I could tell you it's a lie, or that I'm unsure… but I'm not. I fell in love with you without realizing it." She paused for a few seconds, breathing heavily. "You didn't do anything. You were just you, and I promise I never intended to fall in love or disrespect your relationship with Amber." She clenched her fists in frustration, a mix of shame and sadness in her eyes.
I froze. Her words overflowed with such profound sincerity that I couldn't doubt for a second: she was in love with me.
"Since when have you felt this way?" I asked, stunned, feeling my throat tighten. "When did you realize that…?"
I couldn't finish the sentence. The words got stuck between confusion and fear.
"Since the party," Mel answered without hesitation. "From that moment, I knew. Judith, I may not understand much about love, but I also know that you feel something for me."
Her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that forced me to look away.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I love Amber… but with you, I don't know what's happening to me."
I didn't have the courage to look at her. I didn't want to see her expression or imagine what she might be thinking. I feared hearing something that would destroy me, phrases like: "I was just a good time for you, a distraction, a toy you played with for more than a week, but now you don't want it anymore."I didn't want that. Mel was none of that…
"Judith," she called softly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
She gently lifted my chin, bringing my face up until our eyes met. Her gaze trembled, but her voice sounded firm, almost poetic.
"Since I was a child, I learned to express my love in the purest, most overflowing way," she began, "as I was taught, without measuring words or gestures. But as I grew, many called it exaggeration, mistaking it for flirtation. That's why, when the desire to show you how much I love you arose, I thought I was falling into the same trap… exaggerating again. And I chose to remain silent, to repress it, without realizing that what I truly felt was real love, because I had fallen in love with you for no reason at all."
Her voice broke for just a moment, enough to make my chest tighten.
"I panicked when I understood what was happening to me," she continued, her voice trembling. "Because you know I've always hated not having a manual, instructions telling me how not to make mistakes. But with you, everything is different… with you, I don't need rules or guides; I'm simply willing to take the risk, to fall, to learn, to live every step by your side, even if it means losing everything."
She paused, took a deep breath, and her eyes shone with a mixture of love and resignation.
"And yet, I don't want to demand that you love me or choose me just because I confess this today. I want it to be because you truly love me, because it comes from you. And if it's not… then I only wish you happiness, and that you wish me luck on my own path, where I will have to learn to forget you while still being grateful that you awakened this love in me." Mel lowered her gaze, trying to hold back tears. "But if in the coming days you discover that you love me, as much as you do her… please, choose me."
Her voice faded with a sigh, leaving me trapped in guilt and frustration.
She gave me one last smile: fragile, trembling, yet full of love. Then she gently released my face, turned on her heels, and left without looking back. I felt that with every step she took, a piece of me walked away with her, as if the air in the room had grown heavier, more impossible to breathe.
The next day, I discovered that Mel had literally left the mansion. She hadn't left notes, messages, or a single sign of farewell. I wanted to call her, I wanted to look for her, but fear held me back. I didn't want to give her false hope just to hear my voice… and yet, I was dying to know where she was.
Three days passed. Three endless days without Mel. My anxiety grew with every hour, my confusion became unbearable, and I eventually broke down. I felt empty, alone, without direction. I didn't know who to talk to, who could listen to me without judging.
Looking back, I didn't understand why I had isolated myself so much from my friends, my cousins, from everyone. Maybe I just wanted to protect my relationship with Amber, to avoid glances, comments, or gestures of disapproval. I had withdrawn out of cowardice.
"I only distanced myself from everyone because I was cowardly…" I murmured, sinking into the bed, hugging the pillow as if it could hold me together.
With the little strength I had left, I decided to see my mother. I felt that if I didn't talk to someone, I would suffocate. I didn't have to say anything to my nanny when she opened the door; she simply embraced me tenderly and guided me to my mother.
No words were necessary. My mother already knew. She had noticed back in Alaska, and according to what she later confessed, she had mentioned it to my nanny, who had also sensed it by the way I spoke about Mel, by how I sought excuses to help her. My mother, however, had denied it in her mind, because every time she thought of Mel, she cursed her unintentionally.
"I don't know what to do," I finally whispered, my voice breaking as I tried to hold back the tears burning in my eyes.
My mother took my hands in hers and looked at me with tenderness."Sweetheart, I know it's difficult," she said calmly, "but you just need to allow yourself to feel. The answer is already inside you, but guilt won't let you see it. What you did wasn't right, you know that… but now you need to stop punishing yourself so that the truth can surface."
"My girl, your mother is right," added my nanny, stroking my hair gently.
"It's just… I still don't have an answer," I replied desperately, finally letting the tears escape.
My mother sighed and glanced at my nanny before returning her gaze to me, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes."Do you remember how you felt with Amber, darling? When you were with her, your smile never faded. Maybe… with the Castle girl, you were only looking for Amber, trying to fill that emptiness."
Her voice was soft, but her words hit me like an echo of truth. And at that moment, I understood. Thanks to my mother, the truth—painful but necessary—finally came to light.
I drove straight to my old apartment, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples. I called Amber over and over, but she didn't answer until the tenth attempt. When she finally did, her voice sounded tense, distant, though she agreed to see me. She only accepted because I told her it was urgent… and that she wouldn't regret it.
While driving, my mother's words echoed in my mind: "If you go back to Amber, you'll have to do everything possible to make her forgive you and trust you again, because what you did was betray her."
I clenched my fists in frustration, feeling the guilt eating me from the inside. She was right. That's exactly what I did: I betrayed her.
"We've been through so much, Amber… it can't end like this," I murmured, my voice trembling, eyes fixed on the road, as if the wind could carry away my anguish.
Memories began to hit me hard, one after another, filling the silence in the car. I remembered the first day I saw her, sitting two seats ahead in my economics class. She captivated me without even looking at me. I don't know if it was her shy smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, or the calm with which she took notes, but at that moment, I knew I had to approach her.
When I finally gathered the courage, I went to her. My clumsiness was so obvious that I ended up laughing at myself… until I discovered that she was just as clumsy as I was. That coincidence brought us together from the very start.
Our first date was a charming disaster: a tiny coffee shop, two cold coffees due to nerves, and our laughter filling the place. I fell in love with the way she looked at me as if the entire world was reflected in my eyes.
Then came our first kiss, so sweet and warm it felt like something out of a fairy tale. I remember how time seemed to stop, how the air felt lighter. I felt that everything in my life finally made sense.
Then the little escapes. Afternoons in the park where we pretended to study, but only got lost in each other's gaze. Rainy nights, when she insisted on dancing under the downpour while I protested, soaked and laughing. Or trips to the cinema just to hold hands in the darkness, knowing no one could see us.
Amber taught me to love through small gestures: notes hidden in my books, messages at dawn wishing me luck on exams, songs she dedicated to me with her imperfect yet heartfelt voice. She taught me that love is calm, tenderness, and feeling at home.
And now, as the urban landscape passed by my eyes, I understood that each of those memories belonged to me, and I couldn't erase them, because thanks to them, I knew what it meant to love.
I entered the apartment, expecting to find Amber. My heart pounded fiercely, and as soon as the doorbell rang, I didn't hesitate for a second to go open it. When I saw her standing there, as beautiful as ever, I couldn't help but smile.
"Welcome," I greeted her with a soft, warm voice.
I knew Amber was still upset, that what I had done still hurt, but I couldn't allow myself to falter.
"Amber, I'm sorry for what I did. I know I betrayed you, and you'll never trust me the same way again," I swallowed hard, trying to continue without breaking down.
My mother's words echoed in my mind again: Amber is an amazing girl, a daughter.
"Amber, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," I continued, my voice increasingly broken. "We've been through so much… fought so many battles… I don't know how to thank you for all of it."
Amber stared at me.
"From your words, I assume you already know who you love," she said calmly, though I could feel the tension in every syllable.
"Yes," I nodded with a fragile smile.
She returned a faint, almost invisible smile, and in that moment, I remembered my mother's words again: "And in your search, you fell in love with Mel…"
"I'm sorry, Amber," I finally confessed, feeling my heart shatter. "I fell in love with Mel without realizing it."
A tear slid slowly down her cheek before she spoke in a trembling voice:
"I knew… deep down, I knew, and I was sure this would happen."
Her words left me bewildered. Did she always think I might betray her?
"Amber, I never thought about deceiving you…" I tried to say, but she interrupted me.
"I don't mean that," she said firmly. "Ever since we had the problem with our parents, I felt we drifted apart… not completely, but a gap opened between us. Didn't you notice?" she asked incredulously.
"No," I replied, confused, looking down.
Amber sighed. Her voice softened, melancholy.
"I always felt guilty because you distanced yourself from everyone, even from yourself. I thought it would be temporary, that you'd be the same again, but I was wrong. That gap kept growing, and even though we were together, something broke between us. I could have done more, but I decided to stay silent… and that silence was also part of the ending."
I looked at her, unsure of what to say. There were so many things I never confessed, so many fears I had hidden.
"I never saw that," I murmured, bewildered.
Amber shook her head slowly.
"You didn't see it, but it was always there, Judith. There were so many things we couldn't fix, and little by little, we drifted apart. Even though we loved each other, our relationship had wounds… wounds we never knew how to heal. And because we didn't, we ended up here."
The silence stretched between us until Amber finally broke it.
"You know, Judith?" she said, her voice tired, almost broken. "It wasn't one big fight, nor an immediate betrayal… it was the little things, those tiny details we let slide."
I listened, too afraid to interrupt.
"At first," she continued, "they were insignificant: you'd forget our dinners, arrive late, stay silent when before you couldn't stop talking. I thought it was stress, that you needed space, and I tried not to make it a problem. But little by little… I realized you weren't the same with me, even though we were committed."
Her words pierced me like invisible needles.
"And I wasn't perfect either," she added. "I got used to not saying what I felt, to staying quiet whenever something hurt me. I became distant without realizing it. I sought refuge in work, in my routines, while you looked for comfort elsewhere, with other people…"
The name Mel fell into my mind like a whisper…
Amber lifted her gaze, and her eyes were wet, shining with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know it wasn't her fault," she said calmly. "She arrived at the moment you were already feeling empty with me, when my love had started to lose its strength. Not because I didn't love you, but because we let exhaustion and silence win."
I brought a hand to my face, trying to hold back tears. I remembered the days Amber and I laughed over everything, when we cooked together, when we hugged until falling asleep on the sofa. They were simple moments, but full of love. Yet, over time, those moments became rare.
"It was never my intention to fall in love with Mel," I said, my voice trembling. "She was just there, listening to me when I could no longer speak to you without it hurting. She made me laugh when everything seemed too gray. I suppose, without realizing it… I let her in."
Amber nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable.
"I know," she whispered. "And even though it hurts, I can't hate you for that. Love doesn't disappear all at once, Judith; it fades… until one day you realize it no longer sustains you. And when that happens, the heart looks for another way to feel alive."
Her maturity disarmed me. She didn't shout, she didn't reproach me. She just spoke with the honesty of someone who already understood that love sometimes simply transforms.
"Perhaps," she added with a sigh, "if we had talked sooner, if we had fought more for what we had, this wouldn't have happened. But we didn't. We let silence become habit."
I stayed still, feeling how each of her words simultaneously opened and healed wounds.
"What we had was beautiful," she continued. "But sometimes beauty isn't enough to sustain reality."
Amber smiled, with that mix of sadness and tenderness only a love that reaches its end can carry.
"And even though it hurts now," she said finally, "I hope Mel gives you what I could no longer give you."
The room fell silent. Only the sound of the wind slipping through the window accompanied our ragged breaths. Amber got up slowly, her eyes shining, and murmured a request that took me by surprise:
"Could we go, one last time, to where it all began?" She half-smiled with sadness. "To the café… just to give closure to what we had." Her voice cracked slightly, as if every word cost her.
"Yes," I agreed, my eyes glassy, feeling any attempt to stay strong was useless.
The café wasn't far, so we walked there in silence. Neither of us knew what to say. The cold air wrapped around us, and each step felt like an echo of the past we were about to leave behind. When we arrived, everything seemed the same: the same wooden tables, the warm lights, the aroma of freshly ground coffee. We ordered the same as that first time: two iced coffees. It was almost a ritual, a silent farewell disguised as routine.
We sat facing each other, waiting for the coffees to arrive. I fidgeted with my hands, unable to look at Amber for long. I felt awful, knowing that after this day, she would leave my life forever. Everything we had would become a mere memory—beautiful, yes, but just a memory.
"¿Qué harás después…?" Intenté preguntar, pero no pude terminar la frase.
No sabía por qué dije eso; quizá sólo quería escuchar su voz un poco más.
Amber suspiró y bajó la mirada antes de responder, su rostro marcado por una tristeza que me rompió el corazón.
"Tengo algunos proyectos que hacer... se podría decir que tengo mucho trabajo." Sonrió débilmente, aunque la sonrisa no llegó a sus ojos.
Llegaron nuestros cafés. Bajé la vista, incapaz de sostener su mirada. Me sentía aún peor de lo que ya me sentía; cada segundo era pesado, cada silencio dolía más que cualquier palabra.
Entonces, sentí una mano cálida tomar la mía. Levanté la vista y me encontré con los ojos de Amber. Había ternura en su mirada, pero también una calma que me desarmó por completo.
—No lo olvides, Judith —dijo con firmeza—. Recuerda por qué estamos aquí. No cometas el mismo error dos veces. Aprende a comunicarte con la gente, aunque sea incómodo o doloroso. Hablar siempre es mejor que callar. Me apretó la mano con fuerza, como si quisiera grabarme esa lección.
Le sonreí, intentando mantener la compostura, y asentí, agradecida por sus palabras. Había tanto cariño en ese gesto, tanta madurez en su despedida, que no pude evitar sentir una mezcla de tristeza y gratitud.
El tiempo pareció detenerse mientras terminábamos nuestros cafés, y cuando ella terminó el suyo, se levantó. Y justo antes de irse, se giró una última vez frente a la mesa.
"Adiós, Judith", murmuró con melancólica dulzura. "Espero que seas feliz con Mel. Aunque, pensando en cómo está... supongo que podría ser un poco difícil estar con ella". Sonrió con ese sutil humor que siempre la había caracterizado.
No entendí qué quería decir. Me quedé confundido, observándola, intentando descifrar sus palabras. Estuve a punto de preguntarle qué quería decir, pero no me dio la oportunidad.
"Aquí nos separamos, Judith", concluyó con firmeza. "No por falta de amor, sino porque amar también significa dejar ir". Me dedicó una última sonrisa, una de esas que mezclan despedida y cariño, y se fue.
La puerta del café se cerró suavemente tras ella. Permanecí sentada, viendo su silueta desaparecer a través del cristal empañado. Y aunque esa despedida me rompió el corazón, en el fondo sabía que este era el final que ambos necesitábamos.
A pesar de todo lo que éramos, no seguimos siendo amigos, pero tampoco enemigos. No había odio ni resentimiento, solo la silenciosa aceptación de que, a veces, amar también significa dejar ir a alguien que una vez lo fue todo para ti.