Still want you

Elena stopped in front of the mansion.

The iron gate creaked as it closed behind her, and silence enveloped her like a warning. The wind stirred the tops of the tall trees, and the gray sky began to darken, as if time were turning back with every step she took.

Everything was the same. The same immaculate garden. The same modern facade. The same damned buzzing in her chest every time she breathed near it.

She hadn't thought going back there would be like this. Not so real. Not so soon. Not so... violent to the heart.

A message, unsigned, had brought her back.

"Urgent restoration. Down payment: 15,000. Absolute discretion. Address attached."

I'm taking the job for money.

So she told herself.

But the knot in her stomach said otherwise.

The front door opened with a barely audible click. Inside, the white marble reflected the faint evening light that streamed in through the large windows. A familiar scent floated in the air: wood, expensive incense, something masculine that lingered on her skin.

"Come in," a voice said.

Deep. Unmistakable.

Elena stopped.

It couldn't be him.

Not with that calmness, not with that certainty. After all?

"You have my attention, but not for long," he said from the living room.

Then she forced herself to move forward. Her heart pounded as if to warn her she was making a mistake.

Six years earlier.

"Why are you running away from me?" Alejandro asked, leaning against her doorframe.

"I'm not running away," Elena lied, her hair still damp from the rain.

"Yes, you are. You do it every time I get too close."

She didn't respond. He took her by the waist, and for a second, the world shrank at his touch.

"Tell me you don't feel anything," she whispered.

But she couldn't.

She never could.

Alejandro was still the same.

Or almost. His dark suit made him look more adult, colder. But those eyes... they still had the same intensity as the first time he saw her naked under the lights of his studio.

"Years have passed," Elena said, not looking directly at her.

"And yet, you still know how to fill a room," he replied.

She bit her tongue. She wasn't going to fall for that game. Not again.

"Where is the painting? I came to work, not to talk about the past."

He led her down the hallway without another word. His steps were firm. Controlled.

He led her to a large room with walls covered in bookshelves and a soft light falling from the ceiling. In the center, covered by a white cloth, was the oil painting.

"It's a portrait," Alejandro said, without emotion. "Of my mother."

Elena carefully lifted the cloth. The large canvas depicted a woman with a serene expression, dull green eyes, and a melancholy expression that seemed to speak.

The paint was cracked, with areas darkened by moisture. But the overall structure was intact. Restorable.

"It's deteriorated," Elena murmured. "But not irreparable. I'll need at least a month. And the freedom to work alone."

Alejandro nodded.

"You can use the studio in the east wing. It has good light."

"I'd prefer to stay in a hotel."

He looked at her for the first time, directly. That look that had once disarmed her just by crossing the street.

"I haven't forgotten what happened, Elena."

"Nor have I," he replied without thinking.

A heavy silence fell.

"Then stay," he said. "Face it, if you can."

She gritted her teeth. She could leave. She could say no. But something inside, something she couldn't quite bury, forced her to nod.

"Just for work."

"Sure," he said with a half smile. "Just work."

The guest room was more luxurious than any hotel she'd ever stayed in.

Soft sheets. Large windows. A marble bathtub. But all that mattered to her was the small notebook she kept in her bag.

She opened it with trembling hands. Inside, among drawings and technical notes, was that letter.

She'd written it after she'd left.

"I left without saying goodbye because I was afraid. Because if I told you the truth, I'd stay. And if I stayed, you'd destroy yourself trying to protect me."

"I loved you so much that I learned to lose you."

She closed it. She wasn't going to cry. Not this time.

Three years ago.

"He shouldn't know," her father had told her, in that clinic where the walls smelled of lies and disinfectant.

"And if he finds out?" she asked.

"He won't if you push him away."

And she did. By force. With words calculated to hurt. She broke his heart to save it.

The next day, the restoration began.

She spent hours in front of the portrait, peeling away layers of grime with a scalpel and mild solvents. And even though her hands were full, she couldn't stop thinking about Alejandro.

He appeared sometimes. With a coffee. With some excuse.

"You move the same," he told her one day. "Focused. As if nothing else existed."

"Some things don't change."

"And others do?"

Elena didn't respond.

He left the coffee on the table and left. But that night, she dreamed of his voice whispering behind her.

One afternoon, Alejandro entered unannounced. Elena, crouching in front of the canvas, barely noticed him until he spoke.

"Do you remember the night of the fire?"

She looked at him sharply.

"Why are you bringing that up now?"

"Because I thought you were going to die. Because you screamed my name before you fainted. Because we never spoke about it afterward."

Elena lowered her gaze.

"Your father asked me to leave."

"And you listened to him?"

"He knew something you didn't."

He moved closer. Too close. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Tell me now."

Elena trembled. Inside and out.

"I was threatened. Not by you. By what I knew. By what you meant."

"And you thought it was best to leave me believing you'd used me?"

She swallowed.

"I thought it was the only way for you to live."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was an explosion bottled up for years. It was rage and desire. Guilt and need.

She didn't stop him.

His hands caught her waist, like before. Like always. And for a few seconds, the world blurred.

But then, they broke apart. Panting. Confused.

"This doesn't change anything," she murmured.

"What if it changes everything?" he whispered.

That night, Elena didn't sleep.

The restoration continued. The past returned. And in the mirror, she was no longer the same girl who ran away.

Maybe she had come for the money.

But she was staying for something that still hurt.

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.

The sun had already set when Elena decided she needed a break. The restoration studio was closed for the day, but her mind kept working, unable to find peace. The portrait of Alejandro's mother remained in her head, but it wasn't the painting that trapped her, but everything that hadn't been said. Everything that lingered between them, like a shadow that couldn't be dispelled.

Elena had always shied away from confrontations, but now, seeing the mansion that surrounded her, she realized she could no longer get away from Alejandro. There was something unshakeable about his presence, something that kept her trapped, not knowing if she wanted to continue or if, somehow, she needed to stay.

The studio door opened with a subtle creak. Elena turned slowly, feeling her body react to that presence so familiar, yet so dangerous at the same time. Alejandro was there, and she couldn't deny that there was something in his gaze that unsettled her. It was that look that had always been able to disarm, to invade her space without permission.

"Are you okay?" he asked, almost in a whisper. His eyes moved cautiously around the room, as if afraid something would break the bubble of silence between them.

Elena didn't answer immediately. The silence between them was heavy, charged with palpable tension. They didn't dare talk about what really mattered, what had happened six years ago. The fact that they didn't mention it only made what remained unsaid even greater.

"I've been thinking," she finally began, raising her gaze to his. But she couldn't hold his gaze for long. The impact of his presence overwhelmed her. "I think what I need is to take a break. It's not that I don't want to... just that I'm not ready."

He watched her, but made no move to come closer. There was something on his face that Elena couldn't place. It was more than doubt. It was something she couldn't fathom. Something that had to do with what had happened, but that neither he nor she dared to name.

"Why don't you try to stay here a little longer?" he said, as if he couldn't let her go so easily.

Elena looked at him suspiciously. Try to stay? What did that mean? To stay and work? To continue being part of this world around him? But Alejandro wasn't offering her a clear answer. There was only a floating sense of anticipation, as if he were waiting for her to accept.

"Why do you insist I stay here?" she asked, controlling the tension in her voice. She didn't want it to sound defiant, but she couldn't help it either. The anxiety growing inside her wasn't letting her think clearly.

He didn't respond immediately, and the silence between them deepened. There was something in his gaze that Elena didn't understand, as if he were being evaluated, expecting something from her that she couldn't give. Doubt filled the space, and that only intensified the feeling of unease Elena felt.

Finally, Alejandro took a step toward her, breaking the distance that seemed insurmountable. But he didn't touch her. He didn't make a single movement that made her feel closer to him. He was just there, in front of her, like a memory that couldn't be forgotten.

"I just want you to work here." His voice was soft, almost too calm for what she sensed in the air. The tone was so cautious, so full of reservations, that Elena felt even more disconcerted. "I want you to continue what you started. This is your job, after all."

Elena felt her breathing quicken, as if his words had hit her full force. Was he looking for more than just a job? Or was she the one inventing expectations that didn't exist? The silences between them only made her feel more vulnerable, more exposed.

"I know," she finally answered, trying to sound firmer than she felt. Anxiety swirled in her chest, as if everything around her was pressing down. Memories of the past churned, and the feeling that something was going to change soon kept her tense. It was like being trapped in a maze with no way out.

But Alejandro wouldn't let her go. He stayed there, in the same place, without moving. The weight of his words, of his presence, filled the room, leaving her breathless. She wanted to leave, to flee, but something inside her kept her rooted to the spot.

"It's not that easy," she said, clenching her fists. She knew she couldn't just play along, that she couldn't continue responding as if nothing had happened. The history between them was more complex than any job offer.

"I know," he said, without looking away. There was something regretful in his voice, as if he were struggling with himself, with what he had to say. But he wasn't. He just stared, and the weight of his gaze made her feel more cornered than ever. A memory of their past conversations filled the space, those conversations that never had a conclusion.

The feeling that there was something unfinished, something neither of them could resolve, tightened her throat.

"Why don't you tell me what you really think?" she asked, resentment and frustration seeping into her voice. She wanted to know the truth. She needed to know it. But she wasn't getting clear answers. Only more silences that consumed her.

He took a step closer, almost as if he wanted to respond, but his mouth closed. He said nothing. The tension between them was so thick that Elena thought if she said anything else, she would lose control.

"I don't have time to play this game," he said, almost in a whisper, as he turned to leave. But she couldn't help it. She knew something was about to happen.

Six Years Ago

That night, during their last conversation, the words failed to leave their mouths. It was the last time they would see each other, or at least, that's what Elena thought. The feeling of something breaking inside her had hit her so hard that she couldn't even look back.

"I can't go on..." he had told her, his voice breaking, but she couldn't listen any longer. It was too late.

Now, in the mansion, the weight of those memories hung between them, unnamed. The past remained a shadow that couldn't be shaken off, and although they didn't mention it, it hung in the air, like an omen.