The warmth of the steaming hot chocolate and the heavenly aroma of Region 101 bread, along with Agnes's comforting presence, had briefly softened the sharp edges of the previous night. But Fernando's imminent arrival was like sunshine beginning to dispel the shadows.
Suddenly, as if a spring had been activated inside her, Lysandra looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. 7:40! Fernando had called almost two hours ago, saying he'd be there in about that time. He could arrive at any moment!
"Oh my God, Nana, the weather!" she exclaimed, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I've been so wrapped up in... in everything, I didn't even notice. I have to take a shower!"
She ran upstairs, feeling a surge of energy that surprised her. Despite the sleepless night, the tears shed, and the emotional roller coaster, she didn't feel tired. On the contrary, a strange, almost supernatural vitality—a persistent echo of the museum's jaguar energy, or simply the adrenaline of joy and anticipation?—drove her on.
She stepped into the shower, the hot water a quick and effective balm. She lathered quickly, the fresh scent of the body wash replacing the smell of dust and old paper that had permeated her parents' room. As the water ran, she couldn't help but smile. Fernando. Her brother. The thought was so luminous it seemed to dissolve any residue of darkness.
She emerged wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin rosy, her violet eyes shining with a new light. She chose a simple but elegant lavender linen dress, quickly combed her long dark hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders, and applied barely a touch of makeup. She wanted to look fresh, presentable, but above all, she wanted Fernando to see his sister, not the keeper of secrets and echoes she often felt like.
She descended the stairs just as the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel driveway reached the foyer. Her heart leapt. Agnes was already there, a linen napkin in her hand, her face lit by an expectant smile.
The mansion's large front door opened before they could reach it, and there he was.
Fernando Thorne was the antithesis of Lysandra's restrained stillness. Tall, even taller than his father, with the same athletic build she remembered, though perhaps now more polished with age. His dark hair, cut practically but with that unruly edge that had always characterized it, had a few strands falling over his forehead. He wore comfortable but good-quality travel clothes, and a globetrotting-looking backpack slung over one shoulder. But what filled the entryway was his smile: wide, sweeping, filled with a zest for life and genuine affection that warmed Lysandra's heart. His eyes, a warm hazel shade, sparkled at the sight of her.
"Bobita!" he exclaimed, his deep voice echoing in the hallway with a warmth that dispelled any trace of formality. He dropped his backpack and opened his arms.
Lysandra ran toward him, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she allowed herself to simply be herself, the little sister, and took refuge in a strong, comforting hug that smelled of travel, fresh air, and that unbreakable bond that united them.
But when they broke apart, with tears of joy glistening in Lysandra's eyes and a radiant smile in Fernando's, she realized he wasn't alone.
A step behind him, observing the scene with a gentle smile and an air of quiet curiosity, was a young woman. She was tall, with a slender, elegant figure that was evident beneath a vibrantly colored summer dress. Her hair, a light brown with golden highlights, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her lightly tanned skin seemed luminous. Large, expressive green eyes observed her with quiet intelligence. She wore no glasses, and her harmoniously defined face had a natural, fresh beauty that was immediately appealing. There was something about her bearing, the serene way she held Lysandra's gaze, that made her seem both exotic and familiar.
Lysandra was momentarily taken aback, questions swirling in her mind. The pure joy of seeing Ferdinand mingled with a sudden, intense curiosity. Who was this alluring woman who accompanied him so naturally? His wife, as she had feared and longed for in her daydreams about Horacio? His fiancée, perhaps? The air was charged with new anticipation, and Lysandra felt that the day, already a rollercoaster of revelations, still held more surprises in store for her.