Two months later I received some news: I had been accepted into an international academic exchange program. Partial scholarship.
One year out of the country.
I told him.
“When are you leaving?” he asked.
“In three months.”
He smiled, even though it hurt
—If I could convince you to stay, I would destroy what I admire most about you.
I fell a little more in love with him at that moment.
The last night before I left, he drove me home.
The same car.
The same seat.
“It was the best invasion I’ve ever suffered,” he said
He looked at me seriously.
—I fell in love with you.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was honest.
“Me too,” I whispered.
“Then go. Conquer the world. I don’t want to be the reason you lower your dreams.”
One year later
I returned to Mexico.
There was no press or driver at the airport
Just Gabriel.
“Did you break into any wrong cars over there?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
He took my suitcase.
“I bought an apartment in Roma.”
My heart stopped
—For us.
He knelt.
No show.
—Helena Torres, do you want to choose your own paths… by my side?
—Yes.
I finished my degree today.
I opened my own strategic consulting firm
Gabriel remains CEO.
But now he’s also my partner.
My best friend.
My love.
Sometimes, when I get into his car after a long day, he smiles and asks:
—Are you going to sleep or are you going to check the license plate this time?
And I reply:
“If it’s with you, I can even snore.”
And he always laughs
And there is no more shame.
Home alone.
