I felt saliva go down my throat, rough... as if my body hesitated to swallow, preferring to choke on it.
My legs, numb, didn't respond. It was as if something inside shrank and squeezed me from deep within, reducing me without moving a single muscle.
A subtle tremor was born at the nape of my neck. It went down my shoulders, slowly, until it tangled in my fingertips.
I avoided his gaze. Fixing my eyes on the ground, searching in the asphalt for something firm to hold onto.
The sweet aroma of the cake, which had calmed me before, now clashed with the thick smoke of his cigar. The mixture was harsh, almost offensive. As if two worlds that should never have touched had forcibly merged... and the result was poison.
—Mr. Yerner... What brings you here? —I muttered, forcing my voice to hold steady.
Yerner let out a low laugh, almost a mocking sigh, which instead of relieving, tensed the air between us.
The smoke escaped from his lips in a slow exhalation. He didn't seem to enjoy the cigar... rather he drank my discomfort, sip by sip, feeding on the silence he left in his wake.
—We just wanted to give Rinn a surprise —he said, turning his gaze toward the limousine.
From inside the car, a woman with golden hair and a red dress watched us.
The dress clung to her body with an almost painful rigidity, as if she were trapped inside her own role. Her look... was one of deep sadness. There was a moist shine in her eyelids, the kind of shine that doesn't cry, but weighs. As if what she witnessed silently embarrassed her.
—I hope you also have a good gift —he said, lowering his gaze to the box in my hands with precise slowness.
A slanted smile cut his lips.
—Although... seeing that cake... I wonder if you'll really be able to enjoy it.
I frowned. Rage and impotence intertwined in my chest like a contained flame, trapped in a metal box that I couldn't open.
—What are you talking about? I chose it because it's her favorite flavor.
Yerner smiled more broadly, savoring my discomfort like someone tasting a fine wine.
—It's alright, young man. We also have matters to attend to.
My body hesitated. The muscles, tense, refused to move, as if any gesture could break something invisible.
Even so, I forced myself to maintain my posture. Not out of respect, but something more primitive: fear, perhaps. Or habit.
—Mr. Yerner... thank you for this month's money —I muttered, lowering my head.
A useless gesture. As if bowing could hide the crack that was already opening in my voice.
Yerner stopped before entering the car. He turned slowly. His smile grew like a shadow stretched by the last ray of sun.
—Marl Stimson Tial, You know your stepfather was one of my best friends... and his daughter, the only thing he truly valued.
Then, with the same hand that held the cigar, he shook a slow rain of ash over my head.
The gray dust fell gently... like a poisoned caress. Nothing more was needed. Just that knew where to hurt.
—Although, well... it doesn't matter if little pieces of trash like you eat from there too.
I never understood his irrational hatred. But if it's for the same reason I avoid my reflection... then, I understand it better than anyone.
With a casual gesture, he threw the cigar onto my shoe. The heat filtered through the thin leather, brushing the skin with a brief burn.
It wasn't the pain that remained... it was the humiliation.
—Sometimes —he said, opening the limousine door with almost ceremonial parsimony— I am so generous.
I felt the invisible weight of Yerner's power pressing on my chest, as if the air had become thick, hot... difficult to breathe. He said nothing, but his mere presence occupied the space, as if the world hesitated to move while he was there.
—Yes... thank you...
He got into the limousine with the calmness of someone who leaves no loose ends. As if everything that had happened was nothing more than a routine in his day.
Now I understand why water gets dirty "A small act is always enough"
I turned one last time toward the car window. Mian's mother looked at me from inside. Her misty eyes returned a recent guilt to me, as if she had just understood what she had allowed.
She moved her lips, barely.
I didn't hear what she said, but I knew. I saw it in her gaze, in the slight tremor as she lowered her eyes.
"Sorry."
The vehicle started smoothly, leaving behind only the echo of an unpunished superiority. and someone else's pain.
I stood there, motionless in front of the building, as if the minutes stretched on purpose... mocking my inability to move.
With a trembling hand, I shook the ash from my hair. I felt how the humiliation slid down my skin.
The cake was still there, intact in my arms. A simple cardboard box... but heavier than it seemed. Chained to what I dragged along.
The strawberries gleamed under the plastic, innocent, oblivious to the invisible rot of the moment. So clean... they seemed out of place.
I breathed deeply. Once. Twice. The air entered crawling, as if it too didn't want to be there. With an effort that wasn't noticeable from the outside, I took a step forward. But Yerner's words pursued me:
"She won't be able to enjoy it."
I looked at the cake between my hands.
Everything seemed the same. Intact. As always. But something didn't fit.
His words not only resonated. They crawled inside, like an echo that wouldn't leave. And worse still... it was the expression of Mian's mother.
Not what I saw. What I felt.
That moist shine in her eyes. That mute gesture... disturbed me.
I felt a shiver run down my lower back. And then the questions came, like a slow drip that filters through:
"What if it wasn't?"