"You didn't even bring your phone?!"

Teresa gapes at me, her pair of blue eyes piercing through me. People would use to say we look alike, but it's only because we have the same hair color and eyes. Our faces are very different.

"Yeah. I bought a burner phone to text Mom and Dad, but won't be contacting anyone else for the following weeks. I told them a proper goodbye before I left, though they don't know I didn't bring my phone. Guess they'll find out soon enough."

"You definitely needed that break."

I nod, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens at the thought of leaving things unresolved.

"Yeah, I just... I need to reset," I admit. "Things have been busy."

She watches me for a moment, then shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good decision. I'm glad you're here."

I look out at the bustling streets of Bogotá as we walk toward the taxi stand, trying to focus on the new environment. The city is vibrant, colorful, full of life. It feels like a world away from everything I left behind.

"But what about you?" I ask, glancing at her. "How's everything here?"

She huffs lightly. "Busy. But, you know, same old. The more you get away from home, the more you realize you're free. It's very nice."

I hope it will feel like that when Dariel and I move in together.

We climb into the taxi, the city zooming past us. The ride is long, but the scenery is gorgeous. Before I know it, we're pulling up to the little apartment where Teresa's been living for the past few months.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

My sister sits across from me, sipping on a cup of coffee that smells way too strong for my taste. The apartment is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional car passing by. It's peaceful.

She sets her cup down and raises an eyebrow. "Okay, let's talk about boys."

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

Teresa grins, leaning back in her chair. "You can't come all the way to Colombia and expect to avoid talking about boys. Especially that boy of yours."

"Right. Well... we might've found an apartment. We'll start hiring it soon—I mean, Dariel will. He pays for the house, I take care of it."

"Damn. You're getting spoiled." Teresa whistles. "This is so cool. So, like, in a few years, I'll be an aunt?"

"Erm, maybe." I shrug. "We're still adjusting. It's a big step and we've only been dating for a year. We're young. We'll start off simple. If this doesn't work out, we'll leave the apartment and continue living with our parents until we're ready to try again."

I don't mention the argument, and especially not the slap. It's nothing useful to Teresa. Dariel and I solved it. There is no need to spread unnecessary information about it.

"Nice. I like the sound of that. Isn't his birthday nearing?"

"Yeah, it's tomorrow," shame fills my voice. "I considered leaving after his birthday, but realized it would be better to leave now. I haven't been in a good mood lately. It would only ruin his day. I got a few presents that Lillian will give him. When I return, I'll properly celebrate."

Teresa nods thoughtfully, her gaze softening. "You made the right call. It's okay to take a step back and clear your head. Dariel will understand."

I nod, though there's a small part of me that wonders if he will understand. Maybe I'm overthinking it. I hope it doesn't turn into one of those things where he feels hurt or neglected.

I push the thought aside and focus on the warmth of Teresa's presence. "How are you doing?" I ask, eager to change the subject. "I mean, really. You're here by yourself, how's it been?"

"It's been good. I mean, it's different, but I'm getting used to it. The city is big, and there's so much to do. I've been meeting people, making some new friends."

"I can't imagine living here by myself. It's so... far away," I muse, glancing around the cozy apartment.

She shrugs. "It's not as bad as you'd think. You get used to the quiet, the loneliness. Honestly, I think I needed this change."

I smile faintly. "I get that. It's funny, though, because I thought I needed the same thing. But... now, I'm just confused. Everything with Dariel feels good, but I don't know if it's enough. I just feel like I'm holding back a little, like I'm waiting for something... to feel right."

"You don't have to figure it all out at once. If Dariel truly cares about you, he'll understand. And if not, well... it's better to know now than later."

Her words hit harder than I expect, and it scares me. What if Dariel and I don't work out in the long run? What if, somewhere along the way, we realize we're just not right for each other? I shake off the thought, not wanting to go down that path right now.

"Thanks," I say softly. "I just need some time to think. That's all."

"Take your time. Don't rush anything."

The conversation lulls into a comfortable silence as we both sip our drinks. My thoughts drift back to the beginning. To the moment everything started, to the time when everything was simpler. I think about how Dariel and I first met. It feels like it was a lifetime ago, but at the same time, it feels like it just happened yesterday.

I smile a little, remembering that first date. Valentine's Day. Of all days, it had to be that one. We'd only known each other for a short time before then, but there was something about him that drew me in. Maybe it was his charm, or the way he carried himself—confident, but not overbearing. Maybe it was because he seemed different from the rest, not just another guy looking for a quick fling.

I remember the nervous energy that ran through me that day. I had been excited, sure, but also unsure. It was a first date. But Dariel... he made it feel easy. He made me laugh and before I knew it, I wasn't thinking about the pressure or the expectations. It was just the two of us, and in that moment, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.

We'd gone to a small, cozy restaurant in town, the kind of place that felt warm and inviting. The kind of place that didn't scream Valentine's Day, but instead whispered it in subtle ways. We ate, talked, and shared our thoughts as if we had known each other for years. I remember the way he looked at me, the way his eyes squinted when he smiled.

It was all so new, and yet it felt like it was meant to be. I remember thinking, maybe 'this is it'. Maybe I'd found someone who really understood me. We walked around the city after dinner, and he held my hand.

I think about how things have changed since then. How Dariel and I have grown, not just as a couple, but as individuals. We've faced challenges, and I've seen sides of him I didn't know existed. It hasn't always been easy. But apart from what happened Thursday, we've never argued.

My thoughts shift to Minho. I feel a pang in my chest. I think back to the first time I met him, too—how different it was from how I met Dariel. I remember the way he looked when we first spoke, that guarded look in his eyes. The way he seemed to hold everything in, always keeping a distance. And yet, somehow, he's always around. Even if I didn't notice it at first. Even if I didn't want to notice it. I knew him before Dariel—I saw him in the hallways.

I shake my head, trying to shake off the confusion. Why am I comparing Dariel to Minho right now? What am I even looking for? Differences? Minho, with his quiet, stoic presence, the way he never really shows what he's feeling but always seems to be there, in the background.

But then my thoughts collide. Why is it always Minho now? Why do I keep thinking about him when I'm with Dariel, when I'm supposed to be focused on my relationship? It doesn't feel right, and yet I can't stop myself. It feels like a tug of war between my mind and my heart. Of course I don't have any romantic interests in Minho, but after Dariel confronted me about the fact our friendship makes him uncomfortable, I feel guilty even thinking about Minho.

I also feel guilty for Minho himself. His epilepsy. The way he hides it. I know it's not just the seizures that hurt him, but the way people around him act.

He never lets anyone in on the full extent of his struggles. How much of it does he hide from the world? From Dariel? From his mom? I feel ashamed of myself for not caring enough. The same goes for the status between me and my parents. The friends that I don't really have.

Maybe it's because I've been so wrapped up in my own problems, my relationship with Dariel, that I've ignored the real struggles. I have no friends—well, Minho, but I don't feel good hanging out with him anymore, knowing what Dariel thinks of it. So no friends.

Minho has great friends. They tease each other a lot, but they're all having fun, even through the embarrassment. That morning, when they bombarded me with questions—I felt really good about myself. It was a refreshing start of the day, socializing like that.