"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."
— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Ailín and Dylan began their married life filled with dreams: a home built on love, shared goals, and mutual respect. At first, every little thing was exciting—choosing curtains, assembling furniture, hanging photos. But as the days passed, life settled into a routine. Dylan pursued his career with intense ambition, while Ailín tried to balance her work as a translator and the pressure she put on herself as a wife.
What they hadn't expected was how the small things would begin to chip away at them.
Their differences—once amusing—became sources of tension. He liked minimalist style; she wanted warmth. They'd laugh about it at first, but over time, meals turned quiet. The silences stretched. Brief answers. Tired eyes.
Dylan's charm attracted attention at work. Andrea, an old college friend and now a colleague, casually mentioned that many women admired him. Ailín brushed it off, until those women began calling their home outside of work hours. A knot of insecurity tightened inside her.
One evening, she brought it up. Dylan seemed surprised. "I'm just being polite," he said. "I'm not doing anything wrong."
He wasn't—but he didn't see how his craving for admiration had started to leave her behind.
That night, she heard a familiar voice.
Oscurita.
Not cruel this time. Just... cold. Familiar.
When Dylan was promoted to director, there was a formal company celebration. The night before, Ailín decided to surprise him. She wore a simple but elegant dress. Dylan's eyes widened when he saw her, and for a moment, they found each other again. His kiss was urgent, like a reminder. That night, they held each other like they were coming home.
But the next morning, as Ailín did her makeup, Oscurita appeared again.
"Do you really think dressing up will keep him from looking at someone else?"
This time, Ailín didn't shrink.
She leaned in to the mirror and whispered to herself:
"Today, I shine for me. Not for him. Not for anyone else."
And the shadow faded.
That night, she walked into the party not as his wife—but as herself. Her confidence lit up the room. Dylan was proud, and yet… Ailín no longer needed his approval to feel strong.
Then, a drunk woman openly flirted with Dylan. Ailín saw it from across the room, her heart sinking. But Dylan came over, took her hand firmly. No words. Just presence. Just choice.
Later that night, as she removed her makeup, Dylan watched her.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked.
"Sure."
"When everyone was staring at you tonight, I was too. But not because you looked beautiful. Because I know how hard it is for you to shine—and you do it anyway. That's what I admire most about you."
Ailín felt tears press at her eyes.
"Sometimes I'm afraid you shine so bright out there… you'll forget to see me when no one else is watching."
He kissed her forehead.
"I'll never stop looking."
And for a moment, she believed him.
But the world kept moving.
People praised Dylan—not just for his promotion, but for "having a wife like that." It fed his ego. Slowly, subtly, he began to need that admiration more and more.
And Ailín? She watched. She loved him. But she also knew something important:
True love should never have to compete with applause.
And then the question came. Quiet. Powerful.
What if one day I stop shining for him?
But this time, it didn't come from Oscurita.
It came from herself.
She didn't know the answer yet.
But she knew one thing:
She would never stop shining for herself.