Chapter 2 The broken paint

The dawn light streamed through the studio windows, bathing the canvas Elena hadn't yet finished. The restoration was on pause, but not her mind. It was never on pause.

The previous night had been etched on her skin, the touch of his lips, his breath on her neck, the words that lingered between them. "What if it changes everything?" he had said. But the fear was greater than any answer. It was greater than the need for what they once were.

She hadn't come here to fall back into his game. She couldn't.

No.

She forced herself to look up. The portrait of her mother stood before her, its colors diluted by time and forgetting. What secrets did that canvas hold?

And then she remembered the last project they had done together, years ago, when they still spoke without fear. When painting wasn't just their refuge, but their language, their way of understanding each other. In those days, they could spend hours in front of a painting, and even without words, they understood each other.

Three years earlier.

"Painting is a reflection of who we are," Elena told him, brush in hand, looking at the canvas she had begun in her studio. Alejandro was across the table, holding a glass of wine.

"It's more than that," he replied, observing her with the intensity that had always disarmed her. "It's what we would like to be."

Elena laughed softly, but something deep inside her knew there was something in that statement she couldn't let go. When he spoke like that, with such certainty, with that gaze that seemed to see beyond words, she couldn't help but feel small. And sometimes, he loved her more than anything in this world.

"I never understood why you walked away," he said, breaking the silence in her memory.

Elena felt a weight on her chest. That night, after dinner, she had wanted to confess what she had discovered. She wanted to tell him that everything they had built together wasn't enough to stop the chaos that was forming. But she didn't. "Because I couldn't keep watching you destroy yourself, Alejandro. You... you don't know what it's like to carry something so big that it threatens to destroy you."

He stared at her. The sadness was palpable in his eyes.

"I just wanted to be with you."

Elena felt time stand still. Something washed over her, and for a moment, she wished the words had never left.

Elena took a deep breath, pushing the memory back, like a wave that didn't want to spill any more than it already had. But the return to that mansion, the proximity of Alejandro, was unearthing everything.

She stood up from the bench where she'd been sitting, looking for something to do, anything to distract her. In the end, only the canvas remained in front of her.

Was this her chance to recover what she had lost?

Or just an excuse to fall back into his trap?

The studio door opened without warning. Elena turned quickly. Alejandro was there, his gaze fixed on her, but something had changed. It wasn't the same intensity as before. There was something different, something that made her feel more uncomfortable than before.

"Elena," he said her name as if he were sizing her up, measuring the distance between them, something he hadn't done in years. "I need to talk to you."

She crossed her arms, still looking at him. She was tired of the unspoken words, of the awkward silences that filled every corner between them. She wanted to get straight to the point. If he was going to be here, let it be for something real.

"What do you want, Alejandro?" she asked, her voice never softening.

He took a step toward her, and for a second, Elena feared he would do it again. That step that had stripped her of her will so many times. But he stopped mid-stride, as if he were still waiting for her to give up first.

"I don't want to make this difficult," he said finally, his tone softer, more tired. "But I need to know... why did you come back?"

Elena looked at him with an intensity that only he had managed to awaken in her.

"I didn't come back for you. I came back because the money helped me get out of a hole I was in. And because this painting, Alejandro... isn't just a painting. It's a story. Ours."

He watched her, doubt evident in his eyes. He wasn't sure if she believed his words, but something in her expression told him he couldn't let her go so easily. Maybe he never could.

"I know what happened. What separated us. What made you leave. But I don't know if you've forgotten me or if, somehow, you're here to finish what we never finished."

Elena took a step back, feeling the air grow thicker, heavier between them.

"I'm not here to finish anything," she said softly. "I'm here because this is the only thing I know how to do. And because if I stay, I'm never going to get out. I don't know if I want to keep running."

Alejandro, hearing her, took another step toward her, close enough for Elena to feel his warmth. But instead of touching her, he stayed still.

"I don't want you to keep running away. I don't want it anymore."

And it was there, in that second, that Elena understood that the war wasn't won, but it wasn't lost either. That what had been between them was never truly closed. It had remained there, halfway done, like an unfinished canvas, waiting for someone to finish it.

The past doesn't forgive.

Elena knew it. She understood it perfectly when she saw Alejandro in the mansion, so different, yet at the same time, so familiar. Everything she had kept to herself, everything she had hidden in her heart, returned without warning.

The memories they shared, the laughter, the fights, the promises that were never said, everything began to take shape in her mind again.

But the question remained, hovering between them, like a dense cloud that wouldn't dissipate:

Why had he come back?

An hour later, Elena was still looking at the portrait, even though it was no longer the same. Something had changed in her while she restored it. It wasn't just a painting. It was evidence of a love that had been beautiful, but had also left deep scars. And that painting, now deteriorating, was a reflection of what their relationship had been: beautiful, but broken.

Alejandro reappeared in the doorway, this time with a change in his posture, a determination in his eyes.

"I'm going to stay here, Elena. If you let me, if you don't leave, if you don't keep running away from what we feel."

She looked at him and sighed.

"I don't know if I can stay, Alejandro."

"Maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to stop running."

The tension between them became palpable again, but there was something different. Something, perhaps, worth exploring.