What if you didn't have that little problem, Mel Castle? I thought, intrigued. A few seconds later, I answered myself: surely you would have already found someone to truly love, maybe even be starting a family. The thought shook me a little because, deep down, I was certain of one thing: if we had met at another time, before I met Amber, I probably would have noticed you.
"All done," she told me, finishing bandaging my wound.
I snapped out of my thoughts, and for a few seconds, our eyes met in an unexpected silence, full of meanings I didn't dare decipher.
"Mrs. Mel," Nicholas intervened at that moment, "your assistant called and wants you to answer your cell phone."
Mel immediately looked at him and nodded.
"Thanks, Nicholas. I'll call now," she replied, standing up.
She rummaged through her pockets and clothes, but couldn't find her phone.
"I left it in the room," she finally remembered. "I'll go get it; I'll be right back."
And she hurried off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
What was that? I asked myself, uneasy about that brief connection. I shook my head, trying not to give it too much importance, and stayed seated, waiting for Mel to return. Minutes passed, and the silence in the yard grew longer than it should have. I checked the clock: surely more than thirty minutes had gone by, and she still hadn't come back. Maybe Sheldon had called her to tell her something important.
"Well, she'll tell me when she returns," I murmured to myself, with a mix of impatience and curiosity.
The cupcakes arrived before Mel, and while I was enjoying my second one, she finally appeared, walking in with steady steps and an expression hard to read.
"They're here," she said, sitting across from me and immediately taking one for herself.
I watched her carefully, trying to figure out if something had happened.
"Everything okay?" I asked, raising my juice to my lips.
Mel didn't respond. She simply gobbled down the cupcake as fast as she could, as if chewing were the perfect excuse to avoid talking. To me, that was a clear sign that something had happened.
"Mel…" I pressed, furrowing my brow.
She only put a finger to her lips, signaling with her mouth full. I waited patiently, but when I saw she was about to take another cupcake, I acted quickly and took the tray from her hands.
"I'll give them to you after you tell me what Sheldon said."
"How do you know Sheldon told me something bad?" she asked, surprised, though her eyes betrayed her.
"Very simple. First, you took way too long to come back. Second, you had a frown on your face. Third, you don't want to tell me anything. And fourth… you just admitted that Sheldon said something bad when I only asked what he said." I spoke as clearly as I could, confident in my reasoning.
Mel sighed and left the cupcake halfway.
"It's actually nothing bad, more like… a warning," she muttered, though her words didn't make much sense.
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me…" I replied, crossing my arms.
"Okay, I'll explain," she settled into her chair, taking a deep breath. "My parents will return in exactly three months."
"That's great, I don't see anything wrong with that." I smiled, trying to downplay it.
"When they arrive… they want us to have dinner with both families." Her tone hardened.
I stayed silent. The pause helped me understand the real problem.
"Okay, I understand what you mean. But we'll handle it; I'll talk to my parents to…"
"They want the first dinner to be at our countryside residence," she interrupted firmly. "And also… they want us all to spend an entire week together."
The air seemed to freeze in my throat.
"Are you aware…? No, wait… your grandfather is aware that our families have been rivals for as long as anyone can remember? Why does he think we'll suddenly get along?" I asked incredulously, stunned by such a whim.
Mel looked down, clenching her fists tightly.
"Because if our parents don't agree to this stay, yours will lose their company. And as for mine… I can't even imagine what he could do to them." Her voice dropped to a whisper, full of helplessness.
"Would he really do something to his own son and granddaughter just to satisfy a whim?" I murmured, feeling a shiver run through me.
Mel raised her gaze, silent rage burning in her eyes.
"At this point, I'm sure my grandfather is capable of anything," she whispered angrily, as if saying it confirmed a truth she had long feared.
I have no idea what Mel's grandfather is thinking or what he intends to prove by bringing both families together. The very thought gave me a knot in my stomach.
"Mel, it's going to be very difficult to pretend for an entire week," I warned her seriously. "And more importantly, how are we going to make sure our parents don't…?" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "…don't act rudely toward each other."
Mel sighed, as if the weight of the air itself burdened her, before adding:
"That's not the only problem. Remember my issue: I don't know how to make it look like I like you, that I'm trying to make you like me, but at the same time, show that I don't love you," she pondered, staring into the void.
"You mean… courtship?"
"Yes, exactly," she confirmed. "Judith, I need to practice so my grandfather thinks I'm making an effort with you, but without overdoing it. It has to seem believable, a perfect balance: showing interest, but not falling in love. If I don't handle it right, when the time for the divorce comes, he'll suspect something."
I could swear I saw her exhaustion through her, even if she didn't say it aloud. I knew she was under pressure. It was pushing her out of her comfort zone, and though she hid it, I could notice her frustration at not having a clear guide, a manual to follow step by step.
"Mel," I said softly, taking her hands in mine, "I'm with you, understood? We'll practice. We still have three months for it to come naturally," I gave her a warm smile.
She returned the smile, more fragile than she wanted to show. And that's how we began to "practice." I thought I'd teach her the basics, but I never imagined Mel would exaggerate every gesture I asked her to do.
The madness of those three months began with the simplest things: I asked her to tell me how she would react in various situations, and that when we were together, she should put it into practice. I would correct her. However, I didn't have to tell her what to do, but rather what not to do or how not to exaggerate.
The first time, we went out as if it were a date. I asked her to behave as she would naturally. At first, everything went smoothly: light conversation, occasional laughter. But suddenly, she started getting too close, as if she wanted to erase all distance between us. I didn't correct her because, after all, that's how a date should feel… though I admit my heart raced more than I expected.
Everything was fine until we went to eat. I don't know when Mel noticed my shoelaces were untied, but she didn't hesitate to bend down and tie them. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her hand brushed my knee. At first, I jumped, my muscles tensed, and I glanced at her quickly. To my surprise, she smiled innocently while wiping off a tiny speck of dust that, honestly, I had no idea where it came from. But that wasn't the real problem. The tricky part was that she did it unconsciously, with a smile that anyone could interpret as seductive.
I turned my face aside when our eyes met. All I could think was: how don't you realize what you're doing? She, however, returned to her seat calmly and continued eating.
"You shouldn't do that," I said, finally regaining my composure.
Mel froze. Literally, the sandwich stopped halfway to her mouth. She looked at me, confused, as if trying to guess what she had done wrong. I had to explain that it wasn't that she had done something "wrong," but that normally such gestures are interpreted as romantic signs, implying that someone is falling in love. For Mel, though, they were simply ways of showing appreciation and helping someone else.
I continued correcting her, reminding her to avoid certain gestures, like when she wiped the corner of my lips with her finger instead of just giving me a napkin. She nodded seriously, understanding, though that didn't stop her from repeating similar actions unconsciously. And as the days passed, the more situations we invented to act like a couple, the more I had to stop her. Eventually, it even made me nervous.
One day, while watching TV, I decided to rest my head on her shoulder to practice a closeness scene. Logically, she should have stayed still, but instead, Mel leaned toward me as well. When she realized it, she looked at me with that calm serenity of hers. I thought she would apologize, but she didn't. On the contrary, she offered we lie on the sofa and use her arm as a pillow to be more comfortable. That day, my mouth fell open in surprise. And, once again, I had to correct her, asking her to just stay still.
Another day, we went shopping, planning a possible scenario in case we needed it. At first, everything was fine: we were picking random items, nothing important. But then, with her characteristic kindness, Mel started asking me if I wanted any sweets, if I had a favorite snack. Up to that point, nothing seemed out of place. However, when she took my hand to guide me toward the candy aisle, the situation changed. She placed me in front of the shelf full of sweets and stood behind me, so close I could feel her breath brushing against my ear.
She spoke enthusiastically, recommending different snacks, almost like an excited child, but given the proximity, anyone could have thought she was flirting with me. I felt a slight blush rise to my cheeks when I turned toward her. We were dangerously close, so close my heart skipped a beat. She didn't step back, not even out of embarrassment. She kept talking naturally, unaware that, from time to time, her eyes drifted toward my lips.
That day, I had to stop her as well. I explained what she had done and how it could be misinterpreted. She, as always, understood, but the problem wasn't her comprehension—it was her nature… it was starting to unnerve me.
It was like teaching something to a child who actually knows nothing.
Mel also asked to recreate a scene where we were having a barbecue. I was puzzled and asked her why. I didn't know whether the request seemed strange to me or if her response was even stranger:
"First of all, my family loves having barbecues, and when we do, no one does it for us. That's our way of sharing and spending time together as a family. Up to this point, there's nothing complicated. The really complicated thing is that everyone in my family—my mom and dad—acts very affectionate in simple ways, even when my dad hands my mom a napkin. The same went for my grandparents, and it's been this way generation after generation."
It struck me as unusual, but I accepted it. So that afternoon, we did the barbecue. While she lit the coals, Mel explained what each family member usually did. When she was with her parents, they were responsible for seasoning the meat. When her grandmother was alive, she and her grandfather handed out appetizers, all while looking at each other sweetly and playing around. Mel's role, if her cousins or uncles weren't present, was to grill the meat until her parents finished preparing the rest.
It seemed easy enough, but it wasn't at all. How was it possible that even while grilling, Mel could get so close without realizing it and flirt unintentionally? And this isn't an exaggeration: first she was teaching me how to do it, and the moment she handed me the tongs to flip the meat, she took my hand to guide the movement, like a little girl. She stood behind me, and with disarming sweetness, patiently explained, almost as if she were caressing each word.
Nervous about her closeness, I had to stop her.
"Wait, stop…" I moved away from her.
"What's wrong? Didn't you understand me? I can explain again if something wasn't clear," she said with such gentleness, in such a sweet tone, that it could melt anyone's heart.
How could I not misinterpret that? How could I not think that I was actually falling for her?
"Mel, you're doing it again…" I sighed, defeated. "You get too close and… why do you explain it to me like that, so beautifully? So sweetly."
"Well, that's how I was taught," she replied naturally, as if it were obvious.
I stared at her, wide-eyed, surprised by that answer. A pang of curiosity pierced me, along with a strange knot in my chest.
"Who taught you that?" I asked almost in a whisper, as if afraid to hear the answer.
For some reason, the image of a boy or a girl teaching her how to do it came to my mind.
"My mother," she answered, pulling me out of my daydream. "She taught me when I was nine; she'd take my hand and explain everything calmly," she recounted casually.
"Judith, how stupid you are," was the only thought I had at that moment. Of course, Mel had to repeat things as she was taught, and she thought it was normal because that's what she had always done with her family, apparently since she was little. It was completely normal within her circle, but when you grow up and do it with a stranger… it becomes something tender, delicate, even romantic.
This was a great discovery because now we could correct certain things and make it clear that any gesture she wanted to imitate from her family should not be repeated with others. I carefully explained this difference to Mel. She understood without protest, with that calmness she was known for, and from then on, we continued our "dates," creating scenarios, situations… and in each one, Mel executed them perfectly.
The weekend arrived, and as usual, I went to visit my parents. They were quite worried about me; they said I looked terrible, which offended me a little, though maybe they were right. We had been making a huge effort with Mel to make everything perfect, and perhaps that effort was showing on my face.
That Sunday, I returned to the mansion early, around nine in the morning. Aida's parents had organized a family lunch, to which I was also invited along with my "wife." However, I didn't attend for two reasons: first, I had to travel three hours by car to her parents' house; and second, Mel, evidently, wasn't going to go. To avoid any inconvenience, I decided not to attend and went straight back to her.
The mansion was silent, as it always was on weekends when the staff went home. The silence was so thick I could hear my own breathing as I climbed the stairs. I was on my way to the bedroom when a loud crash stopped me dead in my tracks: a strong noise, like something had fallen in the kitchen.
"Mel?" I called, hoping she was there.
No answer.
"Mel!" I repeated, louder this time, with a tone full of worry.
Again, silence. My heart began to beat faster in my chest. Instinctively, I grabbed a decorative object from the living room—a useless weapon, but it gave me a small sense of security. I walked slowly and quietly toward the kitchen, crossing the hallway that seemed endless.
When I finally opened the door, I saw her. Mel was standing with her back to me in the kitchen, barely covered with a crop top and sweatpants.
For a moment, I froze, still holding the decoration high, watching her in silence. Her figure was outlined against the soft light coming through the window, and I wondered why even in such a mundane scene she managed to disarm me. I could only think: "Wow!"—stunned by her physique. I had barely seen a bit of her abdomen before, but now I could see her entire torso, and I couldn't help but stare.
"Judith, hi," Mel said, approaching to hug me.
I saw her bicep flex as she wrapped her arms around me. I, on the other hand, froze as if my muscles had suddenly turned to stone. I couldn't even return the hug; the simple contact disarmed me.
"And what are you doing here?" she asked, slightly anxious.
I looked at her carefully. Mel never got nervous; she was the type who always seemed to have everything under control. That sudden anxiety was a sign… was she hiding something from me? Without overthinking, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
"Are you with someone?" I asked bluntly.
Mel opened her eyes, confused, and shook her head quickly.
"No, not at all… what makes you think that?"
"Then… why aren't you wearing a blouse?" I interrupted, letting suspicion creep into my voice.
"Because I always wear crop tops," she replied naturally.
"What a terrible lie," I thought, slightly annoyed.
"Mel, it's okay if you have someone; you just have to tell me. Besides, we promised not to lie to each other," I reminded her firmly.
"I'm not lying," she immediately defended herself, her tone sharper than usual. "I always wore crop tops… well, I did before living with you. Now I wear blouses for you."
"Really?" I asked, incredulous, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," she affirmed confidently.
"So there's no one else in the house."
"No, I already told you. I would never cheat on you," she assured me, crossing her arms as if to seal her words.
"Alright…" I murmured, though I couldn't help a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "And you also say it's my fault you no longer walk around half-naked in the mansion, right?" I crossed my arms, mimicking her.
"No, no!" she vehemently denied, wagging her finger from side to side. "I never said that. Why do you put words in my mouth that aren't there?" she complained, pouting almost like a child.
I couldn't help it; I laughed at her words. Sometimes it was fun to tease her, to see how Mel's unshakable calm cracked just a little, revealing a vulnerability that made her more real and, deep down, even more charming.
Her expression, caught between indignation and tenderness, reminded me of how far we had come, and how, despite doubts and misunderstandings, there was a spark between us that didn't need any explanations.
"Alright, I won't bother you anymore. I'll go to the bedroom," I warned as I turned to give her some peace.
But before I could take another step, Mel stopped me with a slight wave of her hand.
"Are you leaving again?" she asked in an odd tone.
That question surprised me. It was as if, deep down, she wanted me to leave, yet something in her gaze seemed to contradict those words.
"I'm not leaving. Why?" I asked, staring at her, trying to read a truth her words seemed to hide.
Mel glanced away slightly, as if she couldn't hold my gaze, before answering with apparent indifference:
"Nothing… just curious."
I knew it. My instinct told me there was more. Maybe she was waiting for someone. Maybe even for a date.
"Someone's coming, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"No, none of that," she replied, clearly tired of my insinuations.
I couldn't help but laugh, though this time I decided to stop teasing her.
"I'm not leaving, Mel."
"Are you sure?" she insisted again, as if she needed confirmation.
"Why do you want me to go?" I raised my eyebrow again, questioning her with a hint of irony.
Mel brought her hand to the back of her neck, showing a rare sign of nervousness.
"Well… I know you don't like lazy people, and I… you know, normally this is my day off," she finally admitted.
"Mel, for weeks… no, months! I've been lazy myself," I reminded her with a crooked smile. "So don't worry, you just keep doing what you always do."
She looked at me for a moment, unsure whether to believe me, then spoke cautiously:
"Are you sure you won't be mad if I watch movies in the bedroom?"
"Alright, Mel. You won't even notice I'm there."
Mel smiled, relieved, and with that, I headed to the bedroom. I took a quick shower and changed into something fresher and more comfortable, ready for a relaxing afternoon.
When I emerged, renewed, I found a scene that made me smile: Mel was sitting with a huge pizza box in front of her, enjoying it as if it were the most desired feast in the world.
"Yum!" I said, approaching excitedly to grab a slice.
But before my fingers could reach the box, Mel pulled it away abruptly, guarding it as if it were treasure.
"No, no, no. This is mine."
I watched her incredulously, a mix of amusement and mild annoyance on my face.
"Seriously, Mel? Not sharing?" I asked, feigning drama. "I just want two slices," I said, in a tone between pleading and playful.
She looked at me with those sparkling eyes that always seemed to hide a joke, and for a moment I thought she'd give in… but no. Mel hugged the box to her chest as if I were a real threat.
"No, this is mine. Besides, you said I wouldn't notice you in the house, and yet I still do," she reminded me boldly, clutching the pizza box like a trophy.
"Hey, how selfish!" I complained dramatically. "You really won't give me even one slice?" I insisted, almost like a spoiled child.
Mel just shook her head, amused, though I was beginning to get genuinely irritated.
"You'll see," I muttered under my breath.
Without wasting any more time, I went down to the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge. There, attached with a watermelon-shaped magnet, was the number of Mel's favorite pizzeria. Of course, it had to be the same as always, because Mel was a glutton and couldn't stand ordering from anywhere else. Those pizzas were, I had to admit, delicious.
I dialed the number without thinking much and ordered my own pizza. The response was so fast that I only had to wait about thirty minutes. While waiting, I poured myself a cold soda. It was so hot that I was thankful I hadn't gone with my parents to Aida's family gathering; that trip must have felt like walking through hell under the scorching sun.
I spent the time watching videos on my phone, distracted, until the doorbell rang. I went out to get my pizza, and the delivery guy, very polite, handed me the box. But what he said next left me slightly annoyed.
Closing the door, I pressed my lips together in disbelief. Seriously, Mel? I quickly ran up the stairs with my treasure in my arms and entered the bedroom, where Mel was comfortably sitting in front of the TV.
"Are you serious? You asked the pizzeria to take its time just so you wouldn't share your pizza with me?" I planted myself in front of the TV, blocking her view.
Mel raised an eyebrow and, with her mouth full, shot back:
"You ordered another pizza?" she asked, as if she were the offended one.
"Melissa Castle," I said sharply, demanding an explanation.
She raised her hands in an innocent gesture, though she couldn't hide the mischievous smile slipping out.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to leave again. And you're capable of stealing my food. I wasn't taking any chances," she defended herself. "And I already told you, I'm just Mel," she corrected firmly.
That had to be a joke. But, thinking about it, it was probably a typical only-child trait: possessive over her things and with an exaggerated sense of ownership.
"From now on, whenever I'm mad at you, you'll be 'Melissa,'" I declared dramatically, carrying my pizza to the other end of the bed and sitting down to enjoy it with a victorious air.
After two slices, I was satisfied, so I set the box aside. Meanwhile, Mel took nearly four hours to finish hers, as if she were waging a personal battle with every piece of melted cheese.
When she finally finished, she looked at me with that playful gaze she knew how to wield like a weapon, and with an adorable pout, she asked:
"Can I have a slice?"
"No," I denied with a triumphant smile. "This is my pizza."
The silence that followed was thick with playful tension, as if the real war had just begun.
"Please, Judith, you're not going to eat it all… and you shouldn't waste food," Mel reminded me, her tone mock-serious.
"I will eat it all!" I insisted stubbornly.
"Your nose will grow for lying," she teased mischievously. "How about I make you laugh, and in return, you give me a slice?" she asked slyly, moving closer to me.
I didn't have time to react. She lunged at me, pinning me down and mercilessly tickling me.
"So, will you give it to me?" she insisted, while I twisted and laughed uncontrollably.
"Fine, it's yours, all yours! I give up, eat it all!" I shouted between laughter, trying to escape her attack.
When Mel finally stopped, we were both panting, our smiles still plastered on our faces. But suddenly, I felt a chill. That unmistakable feeling that someone was watching us. Instinctively, I turned my head toward the door, and there she was: Sara, standing there, mouth agape, frozen at the scene.
Mel also turned her eyes in the same direction and saw the same image.
"Sara, what are you doing here?" Mel asked, hardly flinching, as if seeing her was the most normal thing in the world.
To me, however, the scene looked like something out of a telenovela: it seemed as though Sara had just witnessed an affair. Her face reflected surprise, discomfort, and something I couldn't quite decipher.
"I… I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just go," she said in a broken voice, almost running toward the exit.
"Sara, but what…!" Mel stammered, immediately getting up and moving off me to try to stop her.
I, still catching my breath from the tickling, couldn't help but laugh foolishly at the absurdity of the misunderstanding.
"I think Mel will never learn…" I murmured to myself, quietly mocking the situation.