Page 4

SERGIO

The moment she walked in, everything stopped. It was as if the entire room faded to a whisper. Every guest and every sound was drowned out by the sight of her. Mirella. She’d grown into every bit of the beauty I used to glimpse beneath her shyness and those thick, dark lashes. In that instant, I felt seventeen again, sneaking glances at the girl with braces and acne who somehow always managed to glow despite it all. Now, that glow had turned into something magnetic and drew every eye in the room, especially mine.

I couldn’t take my gaze off her. She looked like she owned the place, with that delicate lift of her chin and her shoulders squared in that soft, smooth gown. It was a dress made for movement, but she wore it like armor, and she was impossible to miss. She’d spent so long believing she was invisible, hidden beneath her father’s shadow, beneath those insecurities she used to carry so heavily. But that was never true, not to me. She was always a hidden gem. Tonight, though, she wasn’t hiding from anyone. I wasn’t even sure she could if she tried.

A hidden gem. That’s what she’d always been, though she’d never believed it. Mirella had thought herself invisible, someone who could fade into the crowd. But the truth? She never could. She’d always been the brightest thing in the room, and now, it was more than ever.

When my father introduced us, I watched her hesitate before she extended her hand, her eyes searching mine. Did she know? Did she remember?

I adjusted my sleeves, partly to buy myself a second and partly to ground myself. The military had taught me a lot of things, but it hadn’t prepared me for the dizzying pull of meeting her like this—Mirella, right in front of me after all these years. I reached for her hand, and when our fingers touched, I felt an ache, sharp and undeniable. “Nice to meet you once again, Mirella.”

I’d rehearsed those words a hundred times since I came back from deployment. I had practiced how I might act if I ever saw her again. Yet nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. The feel of her hand in mine was warm and so familiar, especially without the mask.

The last time we had seen each other, I had a mask on. I was the one hiding.

She didn’t know, of course. She had no idea I was the man behind the mask—the one from the night she ran, the one who tried to save her. She couldn’t know. It was a secret I was prepared to take to my grave.

My father’s voice broke the moment, pulling me back to the present. Don Carlos’ son. A title I’d grown to hate, one I couldn’t strip off no matter how far I ran. “A son’s duty to his father,” he’d say. And I’d wanted to be a good son once. I wanted to be what he wanted, even if it meant losing parts of myself. But he’d broken that faith a long time ago. It started with my mother and with the cold detachment he used to keep me in line after she was gone. He claimed it was to make me a man. He said it was a lesson and a path to control. But I saw the truth—he only wanted control over me.

I left because of that. The military was my escape and a way to prove to myself that I didn’t need him and I could build something of my own. I thought it would make me strong enough to stand up to him. But when I came back, he’d pulled me right back into his orbit, claiming I’d been gone long enough. All the while, I knew he’d never stop. He was too used to power and ruling every move I made.

So, here I was, back in his world, and now Mirella was back too. But this was different. She wasn’t here for him. That much was obvious. She was here for herself. And I saw that resolve in her eyes, something fierce and fiery.

My father laughed as though the sight of us together was some personal victory for him. He looked at her with the same cold, evaluating glint he’d used on me so many times. “Ah, Mirella, my son may be bold, but I see you haven’t lost your edge either. How very interesting.”

I stiffened, resisting the urge to interrupt him. Every word he spoke felt like a trap.

I caught her glancing my way—maybe to see if I would defend her. But I didn’t want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under my skin. He turned to me, gesturing at Mirella with a smug, knowing smirk. “You remember our dear Mirella, don’t you? Though she’s come a long way since those little childhood days.” His words carried a condescending undertone as if she were still the girl from years ago, the one he thought he could control.

“Yes, Father,” I answered, giving her a look of my own. The same words I’d used to placate him for years. But this time, I meant them differently. Mirella was not just any girl, and he had no clue who she was. “She’s unforgettable.”

A glimpse of surprise crossed her face, but she masked it quickly, looking back at him with that same calm expression she’d had when she walked in.

My father’s laugh grated against me, a sound that once held power but now only felt hollow. I could see it—the way she bristled at him. That old spark of rebellion she used to have in her eyes was back and fiercer than before. He was testing her, gauging how far he could push, but she wasn’t the girl who’d let him. I knew that much, and I could only guess what she was planning.

For so long, I’d tried to keep myself guarded. I tried to avoid feeling the way I once had about her. But seeing her facing my father with that steady strength reminded me of why I’d loved her and why I still did, no matter how hard I’d tried to forget.

He kept talking and making mocking comments about her absence and her “running off like a naive girl.” It was a statement aimed at humiliating her and reminding her of who he thought she was.

She didn’t flinch, but her voice was soft when she spoke, and I could tell there was a hidden edge beneath her words. “Perhaps I was naive then. Perhaps I believed that love was enough.” She glanced briefly at me, a glance so quick I almost missed it. “But life teaches you things. It taught me that some people are best left in the past.”

I wanted to ask her, right then, about the years between us, about the one night when I wore a mask and saw her again. But the time wasn’t right.

“Your boldness amuses me, Mirella,” my father interrupted, laughing as though she were here merely to entertain him. He took a step closer to her, studying her with that dark, calculating gaze. “Still, with all that boldness, you accepted my condition. Not so bold, I guess?”

She lifted her chin, trying to hide the unease in her gaze. But I saw it there, a glimpse of what might have been fear.

“What condition?”

And I braced myself, knowing what he’d say next, knowing it would change everything.

“Son, I forgot to mention, Mirella has agreed to marry me,” he declared, his words cold and decisive.

I watched the shock ripple through me. And yet, as much as it hurt to think of her being tied to him, part of me knew there was more. After everything she sacrificed, this couldn’t be it. Her eyes met mine, and I wish I could read her thoughts and let her in on mine.

I wish I could tell her all about that night.

*****

The night Mirella slipped away was still etched in my mind, sharp and alive. The memory of her, wrapped in silk sheets, her laughter, hushed but sincere, had kept me up for months. And that look in her eyes—the way she held onto some secret, some sense of duty, even when I begged her to leave with me—cut deeper than any bullet I had taken for her.

“Come with me,” I had told her, my voice barely a whisper. My heart pounded against my ribs, the words falling out fast as if I could somehow bind her to me before reality set in. “We can just leave and go somewhere no one will find us.”

Her eyes softened with a glimmer of pain that almost made me believe she’d say yes, but instead, her lips curved into that sad, stubborn smile I’d always known.

“I can’t,” she said finally. “I owe my family this. I have to stay.”

That was Mirella—loyal to a fault. I knew the sense of duty she carried was a burden, yet it was also what made her—her. It was what held her back then, and somehow, it brought her back tonight, a few years older and wiser and even more stunning than I remembered.

When she entered the gala, it was as if the entire room stopped to look at her. I was no different, but my eyes saw things no one else would catch.

But what Mirella didn’t know was that I hadn’t forgotten a single thing. Every late-night scroll through the internet, every time I searched for some clue to her life now, every memory—the braces, the acne, her transformation into a breathtaking woman—all of it, vivid and present in my mind. I hadn’t forgotten the memory of that night and how she kissed me. Or how I made love to her in the dark, caressing every inch and curve of her body, mastering and taking mental pictures of her features.

That night changed my life. I came home because I was informed of my dad’s engagement, only to discover she was being forced to marry my father—a man I despised with every bone in my body.

Don Carlos was showing her off proudly. His arm was around her like some prize he’d won, and bile rose in my throat. But Mirella’s gaze drifted my way, and for a moment, the room faded, and it was just us, just like old times.

Today, I was back in that cycle. He was doing the same thing. As soon as my father turned his attention elsewhere, I slipped in beside her, and I could see the spark of recognition in her gaze, something deeper than just a childhood memory.

“Mind if I whisk you away for a moment,” I asked, and she nodded curtly. She was silent. She barely said a word till we were out of sight.

We slipped outside, away from the stifling heat of the crowd, into the cool night air. Mirella let out a soft sigh, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked up at me with those eyes that had haunted my dreams for years.

“You look different,” she murmured, studying me with a curiosity I couldn’t quite place.

I leaned against the balcony railing, a smirk forming. “Different good or different bad?”

“Different… in a good way,” she admitted, glancing down, her fingers fidgeting slightly. “Though I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen those eyes somewhere else recently.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I played it cool, letting a playful grin slip out. “Guess you’d know them. We did grow up together, after all.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. A few years ago, I… I met someone with your eyes.” Her voice trailed off, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if she were holding onto some precious memory.

I chuckled, shrugging. “Trust me, I’d remember if we’d met before tonight.” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. “Though, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish we had.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, a flicker of nervous laughter escaping. “Then, I must be mistaken. Sorry, I was just… I ... just wish it was him,”

I gave a small laugh, feigning casualness, though every inch of me wanted to pull her close and tell her everything. But instead, I leaned back and caught her gaze. “When it comes to the eyes, there’s no confusion,” I said softly.

Her laugh was soft, embarrassed, but genuine. I found myself clinging to the sound, wanting more of it and savoring every note. She looked out into the night sky, her expression growing distant and thoughtful.

“What about you, Sergio?” Her voice was barely a murmur now, the kind you’d have to lean in close to hear. “What brought you back? It’s been years.”

I shrugged, slipping my hands into my pockets. “The military, actually. I spent close to ten years serving in the army. I came back recently—just in time for my father’s latest ‘engagement.’”

Her expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and relief. “The military? I didn’t know. I mean, I hadn’t heard.”

A bitter smile crept up. “I wasn’t exactly sending postcards.” I caught her gaze and the way her brow softened. It was almost as if she understood the weight I carried. “My father, though… well, he made sure I’d come back, and well, all in good cause. He got engaged today again,”

She didn’t respond right away, but the look in her eyes told me she understood far more than I’d said. I forced a grin, lightening the mood, reaching for something to say, anything to keep the moment from slipping away.

“What about you, Mirella?” I asked, leaning closer. “My father got you under some kind of spell now, or are you now like elite cocktails?”

Her laugh, quick and genuine, filled the air. “More like a duty I can’t seem to shake,” she admitted, glancing away. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” I echoed, nodding. “Seems to be the theme tonight.”

We both fell silent, a tension lingering in the air, something both of us were too proud—or too afraid—to say. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and unyielding, almost as if it was in sync with mine.

Then, I spotted my father out of the corner of my eye, heading toward us, his eyes scanning the room. Before I could say anything, he was beside us, his hand reaching out to take Mirella’s arm.

“Ah, Mirella,” Carlos beamed, his gaze sliding to me, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. “I see you have a lot to catch up with Sergio. Good. But come now, my dear. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

I stepped back, feeling the pull of reality and the sting of seeing her in his grasp. For a split second, she looked back at me, her expression unreadable.

Before she turned away, I caught her gaze and held it, hoping she understood the promise in my eyes, the one I couldn’t speak aloud. Just wait. Just wait a little longer.

My father led her back into the crowd, his arm possessive around her, oblivious to the storm he was feeding in me.

I wasn’t going to let him have her, not this time. I don’t mind putting another bullet in him, and this time, I would aim higher.

I will protect you, Mirella.