Morning arrived without warning.Not a real morning, just a pale, fragile light struggling to slip through the windows.
Snow covered everything. The world seemed frozen, cleansed, almost pure.But inside the house, nothing was pure.
Catarina had risen before dawn.She didn't know if she had slept or simply waited for the night to end.Her movements were mechanical, folding, tidying, closing.As if she wanted to erase every trace of her presence before anyone woke up.
Every step on the wooden floor sounded too loud.Every breath felt like a confession.
She grabbed her suitcase, slipped on her coat, and stopped by the front door.The gate key shimmered on the sideboard.She took it.
"Going somewhere?"
Her hand froze.That voice. Calm. Deep.
She turned.
Sylus stood in the doorway to the living room, a cup of coffee in hand.The morning light carved his features into sharp lines.He looked tired, but terribly lucid.
"I was… heading home," she murmured.
"Without saying goodbye?"
She lowered her gaze."I didn't want to wake Althéa."
"It's not her you're trying to avoid."
Silence.The words echoed through the hall like a sudden gust of wind.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do."
He set down his cup and stepped closer, slowly.Each step shrank the space between them, until only a breath remained.
"Catarina…"
She shook her head."Not here. Not now."
"Then when?"
"When we've buried it all beneath pretense?"
Her throat tightened."Althéa is my best friend."
"And that's why you're running away?"
He ran a hand down his face. It wasn't anger.It was exhaustion. Shame. Fear.
"You think I'm not fighting?" he said hoarsely.
"Then fight better."
The words fell between them, clean, final.
"I recognized you the first day. At that café. After the bar. You smiled, and I knew. Not that you were her best friend, but that you were the sin that would haunt me."
Her heart clenched.The words floated in the cold air, refusing to fall.
"It was just a meeting," she whispered.
"No. It was a mistake we didn't know how to stop."
Their eyes met.And in that suspended instant, she understood, there would be no return.No forgetting. No forgiveness. No escape.Only silence, heavier than everything else.
Light footsteps echoed down the stairs.
"Dad? Catarina? You're up already?"
They froze.Sylus stepped back, lifted his cup again.The mask returned.
Althéa appeared in the hall, eyes half-closed, a sleepy smile on her lips.
"You two are crazy to wake up this early!"
"Catarina couldn't sleep," he replied calmly
"I… just wanted some fresh air," Catarina added.
Althéa laughed, stood on tiptoe to kiss her father's cheek, then grabbed her friend's hand.
"Come on, let's make pancakes."
Catarina let herself be pulled toward the kitchen.And just before turning down the hallway, she looked back.
He was still watching her.No word.No gesture.
Only that silent certainty, their mistake was no longer waiting to happen.It already had.