Narrator
What Mel didn't know was that Judith had actually been pretending to sleep. For several days now, Judith had started feeling a stronger attraction toward her—a silent desire she didn't dare to admit out loud. That night, when she saw her enter, observing her tired gestures and the way she undressed so naturally, Judith stayed still, quietly watching Mel undress.
Since meeting Mel, Judith had always found her attractive. At first, she considered it a simple observation, nothing more, but over time, that feeling took on a different nuance. Slowly, almost without realizing it, she began to like her. The closeness they had built during their practice sessions, the long hours spent together, the act of teaching and correcting her, had nurtured something inside Judith that she didn't dare to name.
The worst part was the guilt. Just thinking that she was attracted to Mel's body made her feel wrong because deep down, she reminded herself that she already loved someone. In her mind, that attraction felt almost like a betrayal. Even without physical contact, even if it remained a quietly growing feeling, Judith experienced it as if she were being unfaithful to Amber.
But the truly terrible thing for Judith wasn't the guilt itself—it was that with each passing day, the feeling only grew stronger. The more she spent time with Mel, the more she laughed with her, the more gestures, expressions, and signs of affection she received, the harder it became to deny the obvious. Her heart raced with every innocent touch, with every prolonged gaze that seemed to last longer than usual.
Deep down, Judith didn't want Mel to stop behaving that way toward her. She didn't want that warmth, those attentions, those small affectionate acts to disappear. But, as she always did, she chose to minimize it. She told herself it was merely an illusion, a mirage born from loneliness. "It's just that I miss Amber," she lied to herself, clinging to that justification like a life preserver. A vile lie she told to silence the guilt and convince herself that everything was under control.
However, the reality was different: with each day, Judith felt more drawn to Mel and more concerned about her. Her exaggerated protection of Mel tried to disguise itself as mere friendship, but deep down, she knew it went further. And she knew it clearly the day Mel disappeared without warning. The mere fact of not knowing where she was unsettled her. She decided to go look for her, but minutes before doing so, she received a call from Amber.
Amber told her she needed to see her and that she was close to the residence. Judith hesitated. She wasn't convinced to go, but in the end, she accepted, intending to speak clearly and postpone the meeting for another time. Yet she didn't get the chance. Amber, in tears, began apologizing. For nearly two hours, she didn't stop talking, begging for forgiveness, trying to mend what had been lost. During those two hours, Judith forced herself to forget Mel, her absence, and the worry that was consuming her.
While listening to Amber, she remembered Sara's words: "Don't fall for Mel." She repeated that warning to herself over and over like a mantra, trying to convince herself it was the right thing to do. And amidst that whirlwind of emotions, Amber asked her directly if she wanted to get back together with her, assuring her that if she didn't, she would wait as long as it took.
At that moment, without realizing it, Judith thought of Mel. She thought of what it would mean to continue living under the same roof, the tension in the gestures, how dangerous everything was becoming. And it was precisely that thought that led her to accept Amber's proposal. She went back to her, convincing herself it was the most sensible choice. After all, there were only ten months left before separating from Mel. Ten months, and each would return to her previous life.
Judith repeated that to herself firmly. But deep down, she knew nothing would ever be the same.
The day Judith returned early to the residence with Mel, it was only because her mother was willing to confront Mel. Judith had already told her parents what Mel's grandfather intended to do: force the two families into a union that no one wanted. Of course, everyone in her family refused without exception; to them, the idea was inconceivable. But what upset Judith the most wasn't their refusal—it was how her mother and brother started insulting Mel without restraint, as if she were to blame for everything.
Judith couldn't bear to hear them. She rose in fury, confronted them harshly, and without overthinking, left the old house for the residence. She didn't realize what she had done until she parked in front of the entrance and turned off the engine. Only then, in the silence of the car, did she ask herself:
"Why didn't I go to Amber?"
She leaned back in the seat, searching for an answer that never came. She sighed heavily and eventually got out of the car. She walked slowly, with silent steps, determined not to wake Mel. Her plan was simple: enter unnoticed, change quickly, and sleep on the sofa. She knew that on weekends Mel used the bed precisely because she usually spent those days away, and she didn't want to intrude on her space.
When she entered the room, she looked for Mel, but the bed was perfectly made, empty, as if it hadn't been used. She frowned, puzzled. The first thing she thought was that maybe Mel was full of energy and had gone to the gym, so she walked there—but she didn't find her. A pang of anxiety gripped her chest.
She decided to search every corner of the residence: room by room, hallways, even the outer gardens. Nothing. The unease began to grow inside her like a knot. The only explanation she could give herself was that Mel had gone out, perhaps with Sara, maybe to drink or simply to distract herself. Yet, that idea didn't reassure her.
Just as she was about to give up, she passed by a wing of the mansion she had never paid attention to before. She had never needed to go there. A faint light caught her attention. The door was ajar, and from inside came soft, steady music mingling with the smell of paint and thinner.
Judith walked cautiously, and when she stopped at the entrance, she saw her. Mel was there, wearing a paint-stained overalls, painting with absolute concentration. Her hands were covered in pigment, as was part of her face, and yet she didn't seem to care. The room was a secret refuge, an improvised art studio where sculptures and canvases were stacked everywhere, some covered with cloths, others proudly displayed in all their glory.
Judith stood still, silently watching, fascinated. She didn't know how long she had been staring, mesmerized by the passion with which Mel traced each line, lost in her own world. There was something almost hypnotic in the way she moved, the way she leaned, in how she got herself messy without worrying about anything except her work.
And then, as she watched her bring a piece of food to her mouth with paint-stained hands, the only thought that crossed Judith's mind was a simple, tender one:
"I should make her some medicine… her stomach will probably hurt if she keeps eating like that."
And in that instant, she realized the danger of her own feelings: caring so much for someone who, in theory, shouldn't matter to her in that way.
She returned to the room, careful not to make a sound. She was changing quickly when she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart skipped a beat, panic rising unnecessarily, because she could easily pretend she had just arrived, and Mel wouldn't suspect she had discovered her art room.
Yet, fear took over. She quickly pulled on only her sweatpants, leaving the top aside, and slid under the sheets as if she had been there for hours. She lay on her side, facing the bathroom door, motionless, even holding her breath.
Then she saw her. Mel entered, taking off her paint-stained overalls, hopping slightly to free herself from the garment, and Judith froze. She saw her in underwear, and immediately her face flushed with embarrassment and nervousness. Heat rushed over her all at once; although she could have closed her eyes, she didn't. She wanted to keep looking.
But it was Mel who broke the moment. Naturally, she picked up her things and disappeared into the bathroom, forcing Judith to look away. Judith felt her entire body burning, not just her cheeks. She was aflame from seeing Mel like that. She only snapped out of her daze when she heard the door open again. She thought Mel would lie down beside her, maybe too close, but she didn't. Mel left, got dressed, and then went out.
Nearly an hour passed before Mel returned. By then, Judith had calmed down and put on her blouse. Still, when Mel lay down on the other side of the bed, unaware of her presence, Judith's tension returned immediately. Her nervousness was so evident she feared Mel would notice. For a moment, she thought Mel wouldn't notice at all, and worse, that she might leave without even realizing she was there—but that didn't happen.
When Mel finally realized and gently touched her to make sure she was really there, Judith couldn't help but ignite like a match, reacting to the simple brush of fingers against her arm. A sudden heat spread through her body, mixing surprise, embarrassment, and a strange fascination.
Although she didn't want to admit it, she knew something was happening to her, something she couldn't control and that would undoubtedly intensify as long as they continued spending so much time together. Because it was no longer normal to feel disappointed when Mel went to the sofa to sleep; that feeling felt strange and unsettling, yet impossible to ignore.
The next day, Judith pretended she hadn't been awake or seen anything. Playfully, she teased Mel, asking her who she had gone out with the previous night. Mel, going along with the joke, replied that she had gone partying. That, far from amusing her, made her silently furious. The joke ended abruptly because Judith was genuinely upset.
At that very moment, Sheldon called Mel to inform her about the Bell daughter's coming-of-age party, an event she had to attend with Judith by her grandfather's order. It would be the following Saturday, and there was no option to decline the invitation.
Both accepted without hesitation. They appeared confident, determined to give their best performance as a couple. For them, the gala was the perfect stage to put into practice what they had rehearsed in their daily life, that game of appearances that increasingly felt less like a facade.
As if they were truly a couple, they began planning where to buy their evening gowns. Excitement sparkled in their eyes, not for the party itself, but for the simple fact of spending time together, laughing while choosing colors and styles. It was the perfect excuse to be close.
However, that moment was interrupted when Sara called, asking Mel where she was. At that moment, Mel remembered they had agreed to meet for coffee. She apologized immediately, assuring her she would be late, and then apologized again to Judith, explaining that she had to leave. Judith feigned indifference, but inside, she couldn't deny that she felt slightly disappointed that Mel was leaving. A part of her wished Mel had preferred to stay by her side, planning dresses and laughing together, as if nothing and no one else existed in the world.
...................
Mel
"You're also going to the Bell daughter's coming-of-age party, right?" Sara asked, with that mix of curiosity and mischief that always characterized her.
"Yes, I was checking with Judith to see if we could go tomorrow to look at our dresses," I replied, trying to stay calm, though my heart was beating a little faster than usual.
"That must be exciting for you, right?" she commented, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
"Judith is just my friend," I repeated firmly, though I felt a slight unease creeping into my words.
Sara looked at me, and before speaking again, she let out a sigh heavy with concern.
"Mel, you know I'm your friend, and like her, I feel I have a duty to protect you. I don't want you to get hurt," she said, taking my hand gently in a gesture of support that made me feel comforted.
"And I won't," I assured her, feeling that my words were sincere and resolute.
She sighed again, this time with resignation, before softly adding:
"You know I'm here for anything, if you have any doubts or don't understand something, Mel," she said sweetly, looking at me tenderly.
I just smiled.
"I know, and thank you," I said sincerely, letting a pleasant warmth spread through my chest. "Will you go with Layla to the party?" I changed the subject, trying to ease the tension that had formed.
"Yes, I'll go with her. Also, I plan to make our relationship public tomorrow," she said, excitedly, a spark of emotion in her eyes that she couldn't hide.
"Really, congratulations, friend. It's about time you did that," I reminded her, proud of her and her courage.
"Yes, I know, but I still wanted to keep my relationship private. I didn't want anyone bothering us. You know how some people are," she explained, a mix of concern and annoyance in her tone.
"I know," I sighed, tired but understanding. "It must be hard for anyone, but I know you'll handle any obstacle. I trust you both," I encouraged her, smiling sincerely.
She sighed again, this time lighter, and then returned my smile. Her eyes shone with a mix of relief and excitement.
"Thank you, Mel," she murmured, gently squeezing my hand before letting it go delicately. "Having someone like you by my side makes everything both easier and harder at the same time," she joked.
I just laughed at her craziness.
The whole following week, Judith and I spent our time choosing evening gowns and the occasional other piece we liked. Each outing was a mix of laughter, knowing glances, and silences that said more than we wanted to admit.
The first time I saw her in her evening gown, I was waiting, sitting while talking to one of the seamstresses, a kind and cheerful woman. The room smelled softly of new fabric, and the murmur of other clients filled the background.
"And here she is," announced the seamstress accompanying Judith.
I looked up… and froze completely. I think I even forgot how to breathe. She was beautiful. No, more than that: dazzling. My shock was so evident that the seamstress next to me had to snap me out of my daze.
"Isn't she beautiful?" she asked with a light laugh.
"Yes… very," I murmured, so softly that only the seamstress heard me.
Judith turned slowly, observing herself in the mirror."So, this one?" she asked, with a smile that made me shiver.
"Yes," I nodded without thinking, still lost in the way the dress fit her body.
My eyes roamed over her brazenly, taking in every detail of the design, until the seamstress, amused, brought me back to reality.
"Is there any problem with the dress?" she asked, noticing my prolonged gaze.
"No, well… here I think it's a bit loose," I improvised quickly, approaching Judith to cover up.
I stood next to her, carefully touching her waist. Indeed, the dress was slightly loose in that area, so I pointed it out for the seamstress to adjust. That excuse saved me, the only way to justify the blush creeping up my cheeks.
"Yes, she's right, we'll adjust it," the seamstress intervened approvingly. "You have a good eye, Mrs. Castle."
"Yes, very much," murmured the other seamstress, passing by my side with a mischievous smile.
I felt my face flush. "Your hands, Mel, your hands, take them away," I scolded myself mentally. "What do you think you're doing again?"
I swallowed hard, trying not to seem nervous, and removed my hands as calmly as possible. Judith glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, a small smile on her lips that I couldn't quite interpret.
"It feels a little loose at the back zipper too," she said then, breaking the heavy silence that had formed between us.
While the seamstress checked the fit, my mind remained on the same point: the curve of her waist… Without thinking twice, I leaned back and confirmed that she was right—the dress was a little loose. And, again without thinking, I touched that spot.
"Here?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
"Yes," Judith nodded, barely looking at me, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
"Very well, I'll take your measurements," the seamstress announced professionally.
I just nodded, but before I could step back, the woman added:
"Mrs. Castle, may I have your permission?" she asked with a polite smile.
That's when it hit me: I was still touching Judith. I felt the heat rush to my face like fire. I stepped back and stammered:
"Yes… I'm sorry," I apologized awkwardly, trying to appear calm.
While Judith changed, I went into another fitting room to start trying on dresses myself. I had already lost count of how many I'd tried on. By the ninth, frustration was consuming me. None seemed to convince her. The seamstresses assured me that they all fit well, but I didn't need their words; I only needed to look at Judith's face. None of her expressions showed approval.
With the first dress, she frowned immediately. I didn't understand why; it was beautiful, with an elegant neckline and a perfect cut. Perhaps it didn't suit me as much as I thought.
The second had a slit on the side of the leg. Again, she frowned. She said nothing, but her gaze was enough to make me return to the dressing room without protest.
The third was shorter, a bit daring, and that was when she could no longer contain herself.
"You're not going with that," she said, frowning even more.
I had never seen her so serious. I think since we've lived together, I had never seen her with such a marked expression.
The fourth dress was elegant and accentuated my figure; it even revealed a hint of my abs through a discreet slit. But again, Judith firmly shook her head. This time, she argued that "we should have something more appropriate."
"More appropriate for what?" I thought, frustrated. I was losing my patience.
After trying on nine dresses without success, I exhaled deeply, looking at the seamstresses and then at Judith, who continued evaluating me with that mix of critique and something I couldn't identify.
"Don't you have a suit?" I finally asked, letting my arms drop in resignation.
The seamstresses exchanged surprised glances at my request. Judith also looked at me, and for a moment I thought I saw a different spark in her gaze, a mix of puzzlement and approval. I didn't know how to interpret it, but before I could say anything, the seamstresses nodded enthusiastically and invited me to try on the suits.
The first one wasn't exactly a hit. Judith, arms crossed and head slightly tilted, looked me up and down before calmly saying:"I'm not convinced."
At least her frown was gone, which for me was already progress.
The second suit, however, was different. As soon as I put it on, the seamstresses murmured approval, and I saw Judith smile just enough for me to feel that yes, this was the one.
"I like this one," she admitted, and her words were enough for me to choose it without hesitation.
They asked to take my measurements to adjust it, and while one of them worked, I couldn't help but laugh. Her fingers, trying to measure precisely, brushed against my skin, and the ticklish sensation was inevitable. The seamstresses laughed too, catching onto my laughter, though Judith just watched silently, with an expression I couldn't tell if it was seriousness or annoyance.
We finished that whole madness, exhausted. Judith, on the other hand, seemed upset. She hadn't said a single word since we left the atelier, and her silence weighed heavier than any argument.
I decided to give her space and let her calm down. So, I went out to walk in the backyard, seeking some fresh air. The sky was clear, full of stars. It was a beautiful sight, so serene that it made me forget my fatigue for a moment.
"I wish Judith could see this," I whispered, a smile that soon faded.
I lay down on the grass, looking at the sky, and for the first time, I wished with all my heart that Judith wouldn't leave, that she would stay by my side a little longer. But I knew that was impossible. All I could do… was wish for it.
I spent almost twenty minutes out there, until the cold started seeping into my bones. Sleepy and shivering slightly, I returned to the room. I entered quietly, trying not to wake Judith or make a sound that might startle her—but the surprise was mine: she was awake, sitting on the sofa that by now had become my improvised bed.
"You scared me," I said, placing a hand over my chest before letting out a nervous laugh.
Judith watched me for a few seconds, motionless. Then she spoke suddenly, breaking the silence with a soft voice:"You know? I wish that at this Saturday's party… I could have a little to drink." She looked me directly in the eyes. "Mel, could you take care of me if I get too dizzy?"
I hadn't expected that request. I didn't think she drank, nor that she would ask me in that almost vulnerable tone. But I had no reason to refuse; besides, I never drank, so taking care of her wouldn't be difficult.
"Yes, of course," I replied without hesitation.
I was about to ask if she wanted to celebrate being back with Amber, but I stopped myself. Deep down, I knew I didn't want to hear the answer, which would obviously have been "yes." I preferred to keep the question to myself and stay quiet, watching her from my spot, waiting for her to get up and go to her bed. However, Judith didn't move. She seemed focused on something, or perhaps she simply didn't want to sleep yet.
I didn't want to tell her directly to go to bed either; that would have sounded rude, and the last thing I wanted was to provoke another of her cold looks or distant silence.
"Mel, can I ask you something?" she said suddenly, standing up from the sofa until she was right in front of me.
"Yes, of course," I answered with a gentle smile, though I felt a slight unease inside.
"Are you always like this?" she asked, leaving me completely bewildered.
I blinked several times, unsure how to interpret her question. To be honest, I didn't understand what she meant."I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean," I said, my tone a little uncertain.
Judith hesitated for a few seconds, as if searching for the right words, deciding whether to tell me or not. In the end, she decided."Are you this kind to everyone?" she asked, staring at me intently.
"Oh, that's what she meant," I thought, letting out a small smile at her curiosity."Yes, of course," I assured her, trying to sound natural, even a little proud that I could consider myself kind to others.
But Judith didn't seem convinced. She took a small step closer to me and, in a deeper voice than usual, added:"Does that mean you tie anyone's shoelaces or touch someone's waist just for being kind?" As she spoke, I noticed her fists tightening slightly, as if something inside her was uncomfortable.
Her words left me silent. I kept thinking, replaying what she had said. The truth was I didn't usually tie anyone's shoelaces, nor wipe their face, much less touch them. But I also knew that if someone needed help in a similar situation, I would probably do it without thinking too much.
"You could say yes," I finally nodded, trying to stay calm, though my voice came out softer than usual.
Before I could explain my reasons, or clarify that I did it out of simple empathy, she interrupted me with a short phrase, loaded with a disappointment that pierced me like a thorn:"How kind of you."
Her tone didn't sound like praise, but reproach.
I froze, not knowing what to say. I didn't understand what I had done wrong, or why her attitude suddenly changed. "Did I say something that upset her?" I wondered internally, feeling a knot in my stomach.
Judith looked away, turned halfway, and walked toward her bed."I'm going to sleep. Please, turn off the light when you do too," she said coldly, barely looking at me.
I couldn't utter another word. Judith went straight to her bed, lay down, and turned her back on me without looking. That simple gesture hurt more than I wanted to admit. I felt that, suddenly, something between us had broken—or perhaps it had only cracked enough to let silence slip through.