Chapter 3 What Is Not Named

Since that encounter, Valeria wasn't the same.

The routine crumbled in her hands, and her thoughts-all of them-escaped toward the same dark, warm corner where her breath had stopped and kisses tasted of danger.

Elías.

She had barely exchanged two sentences with him.

But her body still remembered him as if she'd known him all her life.

And that, as absurd as it sounded, drove her crazy.

Iván never stopped writing to her. He was constant, fun, a little insistent... and necessary. He was the only connection with that uniform that had left invisible marks on her skin.

So when she agreed to see him again, it wasn't out of romantic interest. It was strategic.

They met in a dimly lit bar, with soft music and expensive drinks. Iván arrived first, as smiling as the last time, although with something different in his eyes. As if he knew.

"I'm glad you came," he said, seeing her enter.

She sat down naturally, crossing her legs, her dress just right, her perfume even more provocative than the first night.

"What have you done since the event?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Valeria smiled, but her eyes weren't sweet, but sharp.

"Thinking," she replied.

"Thinking about what?"

"About what happened that night... and what didn't."

Iván shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

"You mean Elías?"

She held his gaze. Direct.

"Yes. Elías. You. About what it felt like. I didn't expect it, but it happened. And now I can't get it out of my head."

Iván sighed, as if something weighed on him.

"Look, it's not that I want to speak ill of him, but... he's not easy. He doesn't measure himself. He always wants to control everything." Sometimes he doesn't know when to stop.

"And yet... he didn't stop," Valeria said, without a trace of guilt.

Ivan looked at her silently. The air between them thickened. She seized that moment.

"What if it happened again?"

"What?"

"What happened. You. Me. That night."

Ivan's face tensed. He looked away, ran his hand over the back of his neck, extremely uncomfortable.

"Valeria, that wasn't planned. It was crazy. He showed up, kissed you like an animal, and you... you didn't say no."

"Because I didn't want to say no," she cut him off. "Don't make me pretend now. I was there. I felt everything."

Ivan lowered his gaze. He played with the glass in his hands.

"I don't know if I like the idea. He and I... we're not okay. We never have been completely okay."

"But I like the idea," she said, almost in a whisper.

Ivan looked at her and saw something in her eyes he hadn't seen before: determination mixed with desire. A woman who knew what she wanted, even if she couldn't explain it. And that, instead of scaring him... it turned him on.

"And if he refuses?" she asked in a deep voice.

"Then I'll find him. But I'd rather it came from you. That you... proposed it to him."

Ivan took a long drink. His expression fluctuated between wounded pride and curiosity.

"I'm not promising anything..." he murmured.

But Valeria was already smiling.

She knew she would.

Because when a night leaves its mark on the skin, sooner or later, everyone wants to repeat it.