The incessant ticking of the clock had become the soundtrack of Cristina's life. With each passing day, she felt her fingers becoming more agile, her mind sharper, absorbing the secrets of her new job like a sponge. However, professional satisfaction was often overshadowed by the imposing presence of her boss, a man whose volatile temperament could unleash a storm at any moment, forcing her to navigate turbulent waters with a tense smile.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Rafael felt a restlessness that grew more and more each day. The company had become his refuge, not for business, but for Cristina's presence. Each visit was an opportunity to sit next to her, to recall fragments of his own life, but above all, to discover the mystery that surrounded her. Cristina's resemblance to a lost love was something that attracted him, it was like a magnet seeking to attract metal, why that resemblance? A question without an answer that wore him down. The intrigue pushed him to undertake his own investigation, and his first destination was the place that housed the early years of Cristina's life: the orphanage.
With his heart beating with a mixture of hope and anxiety, Rafael found himself in front of Miriam, a pillar of strength and kindness in that home. His eyes, fixed on hers, could not hide the urgency of his question.
"Miriam," Rafael began, his voice a little hoarse, "who are Cristina's parents?"
Miriam sighed, a cloud of memories crossing her mind. "Cris's parents... died in a terrible car accident when she was barely five years old. Since then, this place became her home. I did everything in my power to make her feel loved, to make each day a little less painful. I tried with all my might to get a family to notice her, to give her a home, but... all my efforts were in vain. I felt that I could not do more for her than to help her find her own path, a job that would allow her to become independent, that would make her strong. I knew she couldn't stay here forever once she came of age."
Rafael's lost gaze reflected the pain he felt upon hearing the story of the young woman for whom he felt an attachment beyond the natural, it was like what they say "the call of blood", although at that moment he did not understand his feelings towards the girl. "I will help Cristina realize her dreams." The determination in Rafael's voice filled Miriam's heart with happiness, at that moment the woman felt that her heart's daughter had finally found someone to protect her.
"Thank you for your support," said Miriam, her voice breaking and eyes filled with tears that threatened to overflow at any moment. "My little girl has already suffered too much... she deserves some happiness."
Her lips opened slowly, letting out a deep sigh, which made her feel as if she had dropped the great weight she carried on her shoulders. She felt that her departure would be less painful knowing that Cristina would not be alone, that someone without dark interests would watch over her. And it was that just a month ago, a medical diagnosis had given her a great blow: few months to say goodbye to the world. But her greatest fear was not the end of her life, but leaving the little one who had stolen her heart completely unprotected.
Meanwhile, in the office, Enrique noticed how the atmosphere changed every time Cristina crossed through the door of his office. The faint aroma of roses that enveloped him awakened in him a desire that he did not understand, an internal struggle that threatened to overflow.
"Here are the documents you asked for," her sweet and soft voice penetrated Enrique's coldness like an unexpected hug.
He barely looked up, his tone cold and cutting seeking to put distance:
"Leave it on the table and go back to your desk," he ordered, trying to maintain distance.
But what Enrique did not understand was that this coldness was precisely what ignited the spark within Cristina. That distant voice, that invisible wall between them, created an electrical current impossible to ignore. Each icy word was a silent invitation; each rigid gesture, a challenge.
Their eyes met for an eternal instant. Their bodies approached without daring to touch, while their souls struggled to merge into an eternal union. In that space charged with contained tension, the air seemed to vibrate with a silent and deep desire.
Enrique watched as his secretary walked away, the slight swaying of her hips as she walked igniting a spark of desire that was becoming impossible to extinguish. He blamed himself for his own rigidity, his clumsiness in trying to maintain distance. Why did that young woman affect him in that way? It was an unanswered question, a mystery that kept him on edge. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to dispel the image of her smile, the echo of her voice in his mind.
Cristina, back at her desk, felt a slight tremor in her hands. She rubbed her arms, as if trying to calm an internal fever. Every time he looked at her, even with that frightening coldness, she felt her skin crawl. It was as if his eyes, despite the distance he imposed, stripped her completely. She forced herself to concentrate on the tasks, but her mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to break that barrier, what it would be like to feel the warmth of his skin against hers. Would it be as intense as she felt in those moments of forced closeness?
Suddenly, Enrique got up from his chair with a sudden decision. He headed to the coffee machine, hoping to meet her there. It wasn't long before Cristina, with the excuse of a break, also got up. Their steps crossed in the hallway, and for a second, their shoulders brushed. An electrical discharge ran through both of them.
"Excuse me," Cristina murmured, her voice barely audible, not daring to look at him directly.
"Don't worry," Enrique replied, his voice a little deeper than usual. He stopped, and Cristina also did, creating an awkward silence. The smell of coffee mixed with Cristina's perfume, a combination that Enrique found increasingly attractive.
They stood there, facing each other, the tension could be felt in the air. Words were not necessary; their looks said it all. There was a question floating between them, a silent invitation to cross that invisible line created by Enrique.
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