Chapter 5 He's not a shark

Emilia had spent the entire afternoon mulling over the same question: what did Adrián expect from her? After dinner, she felt strange, as if something had changed, but she wasn't sure what. She had been overthinking the situation, but all she felt was confusion and fear. She decided, then, that it would be best to disconnect for a while, try to normalize her thoughts, and focus on daily tasks.

However, the weight of the conversation with Adrián remained present in her mind. Not so much the professional aspect-which had been fluid-but the nonverbal tension that had begun to form between them. Deep down, she felt that this relationship could go far beyond the projects they shared. But she didn't want to think about that now. She didn't want to be just another one of them, lulled into the temptation of what Adrián represented: power, control, but also a desire for intimacy that disconcerted her.

Night was approaching, and with it, the reunion with her family. Emilia had always had a difficult relationship with her parents. Although she loved them, she knew they didn't share her ideas about life or what it meant to have a successful career. They often criticized her for her decisions, for not following the same path as her older brother, a family man, married with children, and with a "secure" job in the family business. While he lived up to traditional expectations, she struggled to create her own path, one that wasn't always understood.

Emilia looked at herself in the mirror before leaving. She knew that no matter how much she prepared, nothing could prevent what was coming. This wasn't just a casual meeting. This was the moment when her parents would test her decisions, especially her recent relationship with Adrián. She knew it wouldn't be easy.

When she arrived at the family home, the heavy atmosphere greeted her. The door, always open as a sign of welcome, closed behind her with a stiffness that no longer went unnoticed. Her mother was in the kitchen, as always, and her father was sitting in the living room, looking at his newspaper. Emilia felt tension building in the air.

"Hi, Mom, Dad," she greeted with a tense smile as she walked into the living room.

"Hi, daughter," her mother replied, with a smile that wasn't quite genuine. She knew something wasn't right. She was watching her with a gaze full of unspoken questions. Her father's eyes, always so appraising, had already analyzed her from head to toe. She felt the judgment begin before she even said a word.

They sat down at the table, and as always, her father wasted no time in dropping the first hint.

"So, how's everything going with the project?" he asked, with a calmness that didn't fit the tone of the conversation.

Emilia nodded and began talking about work, the progress, the plans. She wanted to keep the conversation professional, but her father didn't seem interested. She knew the moment would come when the tension could no longer be contained.

"And what about that... man?" Her mother, always more delicate, couldn't help but ask. She knew Emilia was annoyed by the insistence, but she couldn't stop trying to understand what was going on. "Adrián Vega, right? Is everything okay between you?"

Emilia stopped eating. The question was more loaded than it seemed. It was her parents' constant surveillance, their attempts to probe beyond what she was willing to share.

"It's fine, Mom. We're working together," she replied calmly, maintaining her composure.

But her father, always more direct, was quick to intervene.

"Working together? Don't you think it's a bit risky?" he said, his voice thick with judgment. "That man is a shark, Emilia. He's not someone with whom you can maintain a professional relationship without it getting complicated. You know what I mean. He's a powerful man, who doesn't play fair. I don't want you to end up caught in a net you won't be able to untangle."

Anger began to boil in Emilia's stomach. That look of superiority her father had always had, that feeling that she wasn't capable of making decisions for herself, irritated her more than she could bear. But she didn't want to lose her composure, not in front of them.

"I'm not trapped, Dad. And Adrian isn't what you think. Not everything has to be so black and white." Her voice trembled slightly, but she said it firmly.

Her mother sighed, trying to calm the situation, but her father's disapproving gaze remained fixed on her like a sword.

"I just don't understand why you insist on making things so complicated. You have a bright future ahead of you. Why lose everything for a man?" her father said, without looking her in the eyes, as if he couldn't understand the path she had chosen. "This isn't the kind of relationship we would have liked for you."

Emilia abruptly stood up from the table, her hands shaking with frustration.

"I don't!" "Do you understand!" she shouted, dropping the chair she'd been occupying. The sound of the crash made everyone fall silent for a moment. "It's not all about your expectations! Don't you see that I'm trying to live my life? I don't want to do things the way you want me to! I'm the one who has to make the decisions!"

Her mother looked at her sadly, but it was her father who broke the silence.

"Do you think you can handle this alone?" he said, standing up as well. "We've given you everything to succeed. And now you're going to ruin yourself for someone like him? A man who has no principles, who uses people to climb higher? That's not what we want for you."

Emilia felt a pang of rage. The rejection she felt from them, for not being able to understand her decisions, was unbearable. She knew her parents only wanted the best for her, but that "best" was based on an idea she no longer shared. That narrow vision, filled with fears and doubts about the world, suffocated her.

"Enough!" she cried, unable to contain her emotions. "I'm sick of being told what to do. Sick of every decision I make being analyzed, criticized, and destroyed before I can even understand what it means to me. I'm not you. And I'm not going to live my life according to what you think is right!"

Realizing what she had said, she fell silent, her anger transforming into something darker: a sense of pain, of separation, of the barriers between her and her family becoming insurmountable.

Her father stared at her but said nothing more. He just turned and left the room. Her mother slowly stood up, and although she tried to approach her, Emilia pushed her away with a hand.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, her voice breaking.

Without waiting any longer, he left the house, leaving her behind. The night was cold and silent, but Emilia couldn't help but feel the weight of the tension she'd created. Not just with her parents, but with herself. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to distance herself from others' expectations, the internal battle would remain the hardest of all.