Alberto looked at his hands—wounded, dirt-stained, rough. The difference between them was striking. And yet something softened within him: understanding, heavy, slow, but sincere.
Lina closed the door behind her without sparing Albert a single glance. She gently brushed her light dress, as if shaking off invisible dust, and then placed the bouquet in a vase in the hallway.
“Lina, I… I want to try. I want to learn. It’s just that… I’ve never lived any other way. My whole life… belonged to them. Maybe it’s time for it to finally belong to me too. And to us.”
Lina smiled for the first time—she really smiled, without irony.
“Then start with a shower, Alberto. And then sit down with me for tea. I want the first thing we do together after this is all over to be something simple. No flower beds. No orders.”
He nodded as if he had just found his footing.
— Okay. I’m on my way.
As he headed for the bathroom, Lina remained in the living room, staring at the deep red buttercups in the vase. For the first time in months, she felt that the future wasn’t a burden, but a free space.
A place where they can build something new —
if they both agree to dig.
Not in the ground.
In yourself.
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