My phone vibrated in my hand and, even before looking at the screen, I already knew who it was.
— Hi, Rosa.
On the other end of the line, she sounded anxious, worried.
— Hi, Melissa, what happened to him? — she said. — If you didn't come back home, it's because Vicente isn't okay.
I smiled softly.
— He's okay. A bit banged up, but okay.
There was a brief pause, and then her voice came layered with that care she tried to hide behind humor.
— I thought about calling him directly… — she sighed. — But I figured it was better not to. If I opened my mouth, I'd end up scolding him. And this isn't the time for that.
I chuckled quietly.
— You did the right thing.
On the other end, Rosa paused again before speaking, her tone changing. She restarted carefully, like someone stepping lightly to avoid crossing a line.
— Melissa… I know you might want to fix up your room, organize your things, really start settling in. And if you can't, I'll understand. Truly.But I'd feel much calmer if you could stay there with him for a few days. Just until he recovers properly.
I felt warmth slowly rise, up my neck, reaching my ears.
I opened my mouth to answer, but no sentence felt ready. I didn't know where to begin. Whether to say it wasn't a bother. Whether to say everything was fine. Whether to say that I… wanted to stay.
— I… — I started, then stopped. — I mean… it's not a problem. I just…
I looked toward the couch.
Vicente was sitting sideways, focused on a car part I wouldn't be able to name even if I tried. He tightened a screw calmly, as if that alone demanded all the attention in the world. He didn't look up, but I knew he was listening.
— He complains — Rosa continued, with a half-laugh in her voice. — But we know how he is. He always ends up doing what you ask… and if there's anyone who can handle him, it's you.
I swallowed hard.
— I'll stay — I said at last. — You can relax.
On the other end of the line, the relief was immediate.
— Thank you, sweetheart. Truly.
— He's hurt, but it's nothing serious — I added, as if I needed to reassure her a little more.
— I know he can take a lot — she said, her tone shifting. — I was never afraid of him being alone with a few injuries. My fear is him thinking he's already fine… and risking himself again too soon.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
— I understand — I replied. — But with me here, he won't do anything reckless.
I felt her smile through the line.
— All right then. If anything comes up, call me. And… let me know if you want me to send over some containers with ready-made food.
— I will, but for now I'm managing — I said. — Don't worry.
When I hung up, I lifted my eyes to Vicente again.
He was still in the same spot, the part resting on his leg, the screw finally in place. Only then did he look up, meeting my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
I walked over to him.
— You're overusing that arm — I said, pointing even before getting closer.
The bandage was stained, a dark red seeping through the gauze. My chest tightened immediately.
— Can't you settle down even a little? — I continued, my tone already carrying a scolding edge.
He opened his mouth to respond, but I had already turned toward the wardrobe. I opened the drawer, grabbed the first-aid kit, and came back.
I knelt on the floor in front of him.
I took his arm carefully, slowly undoing the old bandage, peeling away the bloodied gauze. He didn't complain, but I saw his jaw tense for a second.
— Hang in there — I murmured, more to myself than to him.
The cut looked bad. Open enough to sting just from looking at it. I dampened a cloth, wrung it out slowly, and passed it gently over his skin. The metallic smell of blood mixed with cold water made me wrinkle my nose. He breathed deeply, slow and controlled, trying to keep his body still.
I cleaned the wound calmly, focused on that single point in the world, as if nothing else existed. I blew on it softly, without thinking. An automatic gesture — and only afterward did I realize… it was exactly what he used to do when I scraped my knee. He would blow on it and say it would pass.
I kept my eyes on what I was doing, ignoring the weight of his gaze on me.
I took fresh gauze and wrapped it firmly enough to protect, but gently enough not to hurt him more. I secured it with tape, smoothing the edge with my thumb, checking once, twice, three times.
Only then did I release his arm.
— Done — I said at last. My voice came out lower than I expected. — Now take care of that arm. If you don't, I'll drag you to get stitches, even if I have to force you.
I spoke like someone talking to a stubborn child. The truth was, I had no intention of letting him get hurt again.
He gave a half-smile. One of those quick ones.
— I already know you won't let me take the bike to drive you home. So it's better for you to go now, before it gets dark.
I looked up immediately.
— Who said I'm going?
He watched me, attentive.
— I'm staying here — I continued. — Until you're completely better.
There was no surprise on his face. None at all.
And I knew… I knew right then.
He had heard my conversation with Rosa.
He had only said that so he could hear me say I would stay.
And after I did, he didn't grumble or argue. He didn't try to convince me otherwise… he simply lowered his gaze, a restrained smile on his lips.
That same smile I had remembered for as long as I could remember.