Olivia placed her bag down and stood still for a moment.
Not because she was overwhelmed.
But because she wasn’t.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel the need to prove anything.
Not to Ramona.
Not to anyone.
—
That evening, there was a knock on the door.
Olivia opened it.
Tomás stood there.
Alone.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
She stepped aside.
He walked in slowly, taking in the space.
“This is…” he began, then stopped.
“Yeah,” Olivia said gently.
He turned to her.
“I didn’t know,” he admitted.
“I know,” she replied.
He hesitated.
Then said, “That’s not an excuse.”
Olivia didn’t respond immediately.
She just listened.
“I should have paid more attention,” he continued. “Not just today. For years.”
There was no defensiveness in his voice.
Only realization.
“I thought keeping the peace meant staying quiet,” he said. “But I see now… it just meant you were the one carrying everything.”
Olivia crossed her arms lightly—not closed off, just thoughtful.
“It wasn’t just about today,” she said.
“I know,” he replied.
They stood there in silence for a moment.
Not uncomfortable.
Just honest.
“What happens now?” he asked.
Olivia looked out toward the ocean.
The sun was setting, casting golden light across the water.
“I don’t know yet,” she said.
Then she turned back to him.
“But I do know one thing.”
Tomás waited.
“I’m not shrinking myself anymore,” she said calmly.
He nodded.
“You shouldn’t,” he said.
—
