The conversation with Ruby about her unique way of meeting Fernando and her profound philosophical inquiries had left Lysandra pensive for much of the day. They had spent a quiet afternoon at the mansion, Lysandra trying to catch up on some work emails while Ruby read avidly in the library, each immersed in her own world but aware of the other's presence. Agnes's absence was a constant echo, a note of melancholy in the house's stillness.
The sun had already set behind the jungle's horizon, painting the Cancún sky with strokes of orange, violet, and indigo, when the sound of Fernando's car stopping in the driveway announced his arrival. The lights in the foyer and living rooms were already on, creating pools of warm light in the growing darkness outside.
"Home at last!" Fernando exclaimed as he entered, dropping his briefcase with a sigh of relief. He looked tired, but a smile appeared on his face when he saw Lysandra and Ruby waiting for him in the living room. "What news of dinner? My meetings stretched to infinity, and my stomach is protesting with the eloquence of a starving poet."
Lysandra smiled. "Just in time, as always. We ordered food from that Yucatecan restaurant you like so much. It should be here any minute."
And, as if summoned by her words, the soft chime of the main doorbell echoed through the mansion.
"That must be our salvation," Fernando said, walking briskly towards the entrance. Lysandra and Ruby followed more slowly, curious to see what they had finally chosen from the menu.
Fernando opened the heavy mahogany door. The light from the outer porch silhouetted an Uber Eats delivery driver, who held several paper bags emanating a tempting aroma of cochinita pibil and spices. The young man looked up, and under the artificial light, a very kind, almost professionally cheerful smile lit his features.
"Good evening, order for the Thorne family?" he asked, his voice clear and polite, though perhaps a little weary from the day's work.
Lysandra moved a little closer, her eyes adjusting to the figure of the delivery man. And in that instant, her heart seemed to stop dead. The air grew thick, the sounds from outside muffled. The delivery uniform, the tilted cap, the smile… all faded as she recognized the features beneath the visor.
It was Horacio.
Horacio, the natural-born leader from university, the one with a brilliant mind and a promising future everyone had taken for granted. Horacio, the young man with the charismatic smile and the dark, penetrating eyes that, on more than one occasion, had sought her out with an interest she had determinedly sidestepped. Horacio, whom so many companies would have fought over, whom she had envisioned as a top executive, perhaps the CEO of some innovative corporation. Horacio, now, in the uniform of a delivery app, handing them their dinner.
The change was so drastic, so disconcerting, that Lysandra felt a wave of dizziness, as if the ground beneath her feet had become unstable. The image she retained of him—the confident young man, passionately debating in class, surrounded by admirers, the future unfolding before him like a red carpet—clashed brutally with the reality of this encounter.
Her violet eyes widened, the shock so evident on her face that Fernando, who was about to take the bags, turned to look at her, puzzled. Ruby, ever observant, also noticed the shift in atmosphere, the sudden tension emanating from Lysandra.
Horacio, upon looking up and meeting Lysandra's fixed gaze, also seemed to recognize her. The kind smile on his lips faltered for a fraction of a second, a shadow of surprise, perhaps discomfort, crossing his features before the mask of professionalism settled back into place. But in that instant, Lysandra saw a glimpse of the young man she had known, an echo of that former confidence now veiled by something she couldn't decipher.
"Lysandra…" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, the recognition undeniable.
"Horacio," she replied, her own voice sounding strange, distant. The lump in her throat prevented her from saying more.
Fernando looked from one to the other, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Do you know each other?"
The silence stretched for a moment, laden with all the unsaid words, the divergent paths, the broken expectations. Lysandra remembered, with a sharp, painful pang, that one time, just once, when she had allowed herself to imagine a different future, one in which perhaps Horacio and she… But the idea had vanished as quickly as it had come, drowned by her focus on her studies, by her fear of distractions, by that invisible barrier that had always surrounded her. And now? Now she saw him like this, and an immense sadness, an overwhelming confusion, washed over her.
What had happened to this young man of unlimited potential? What unexpected turns had led him from the elite university classrooms and the promises of a brilliant future to delivering food in the streets of Cancún? The kind smile he now maintained, as he waited for Fernando to take the order, seemed almost a tragic mask.
The scene was surreal: her brother, the visionary empire-builder; Ruby, the enigmatic seeker of philosophical truths; herself, the cartographer of ancestral echoes; and Horacio, the fallen leader, or perhaps, the man who had chosen a path so radically different it defied all understanding.
The question "What happened?" hung in the air, as heavy and tangible as the warm Caribbean evening, leaving everyone, especially Lysandra, with an imperious need for answers and a sense that the world, once again, had proven to be a much stranger and more unpredictable place than she could have ever imagined.