Ámbar woke up before the alarm went off. It wasn't because of a noise. It was that strange feeling of having slept but not fully rested. Her body felt lighter than the night before, yes, but her mind was still in motion.
She stayed still for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, listening to Simón's calm breathing beside her. There was something deeply comforting about that sound. A simple certainty: she was not alone.
Still, the phrase returned, without asking permission.
When you're ready, search.
She didn't know why now. She didn't know exactly what it meant. She only knew it wasn't going away.
She turned slowly so as not to wake him and propped an elbow on the pillow. She looked at Simon's face with a mix of gratitude and guilt: he had been her refuge, support, home... and yet, there were things she couldn't leave in his hands.
There were questions she could only ask herself. She closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't want answers yet. But for the first time, she accepted that she wanted to start asking.
Ámbar arrived at the Jam & Roller when there was still no one there. The sign was still off, and the echo of her steps sounded louder than usual.
She went in, put down her bag, and tied her hair in front of the mirror. The reflection showed a calm, efficient face. No one would have guessed what was behind it.
She turned on the lights. The rink gleamed. She checked the inventory, the staff schedule, the day's reservations. Everything was where it should be. The Jam & Roller was a place that responded. Not like people. Not like memory.
Sylvana woke up to the sound of the bus passing too close to the window.
The apartment was small. Borrowed. It wasn't messy, but it didn't have its own marks either. She had been living there for months and still hadn't hung a single picture.
She sat on the bed and stayed still for a moment, listening to her own breathing.
Another day.
In the kitchen, she made strong coffee and drank it standing up, looking out the window. The city didn't owe her anything. Neither did she.
She had a bag ready by the door. Comfortable clothes. Worn-out sneakers.
Before leaving, she looked at herself in the hallway mirror. The reflection showed her a tired woman, but steady. With something unresolved in her eyes.
───Not today ───she whispered to herself───. Today I won't think about that.
She closed the door.
Ámbar was reviewing the shift schedule when Rosales appeared in the office, with the jacket draped over his arm.
───Ah ───he said, as if remembering something───. Today the new cleaning woman starts.
Ámbar looked up.
───Today?
───Yes... She comes recommended. Sylvana... ───he glanced at the paper─── Sylvana is her name.
The name struck again, dryly.
Ámbar blinked once.
───Sylvana? ───she repeated, not knowing why.
───Uh-huh ───Rosales replied, already distracted───. Shift is tomorrow. She won't bother you.
Ámbar nodded.
───All right.
Rosales left. The sound of a cleaning machine started coming from the back of the place. Ámbar closed the schedule sheet with more force than necessary.
It means nothing, she told herself. But again, her body did not obey.
Sylvana entered the Roller.
The smell was the same. Waxed wood. Reheated coffee. Metal.
She stopped just as she crossed the door.
There were no screams.
No scenes. No dramatics. Just words spoken with a calmness that later hurt her more than any rejection.
I'm your mom.
She swallowed.
───It's over ───she whispered to herself───. It's said.
But her body didn't understand verb tenses.
She pushed the cleaning cart and started along the edges of the rink, like before. As if nothing had changed. As if she hadn't left part of her life on that very floor.
Ámbar was jotting down tasks when she heard the familiar sound of the cleaning cart.
She didn't look up immediately.
That sound... It wasn't new. But something in the rhythm made her uncomfortable.
No, she told herself. Don't start.
She kept writing. She had decided something that morning:
Not to think about Sylvana at work.
The Jam & Roller was hers. Her place.
Her balance. She wasn't going to let that truth sneak in there too.
The place was alive. The track vibrated with the constant friction of wheels against the floor. Music, laughter, glasses resting on the bar. Everything followed its usual rhythm. Ámbar controlled it all from the café.
Until she saw her.
Sylvana was cleaning a table near the side. Calm, precise movements. There was no nervousness in her. She knew the place. She had always known it.
Ámbar wasn't surprised. But it still hurt.
She approached without hurry. There was nothing to discover. Only something to face.
───Sylvana ───she said.
She immediately looked up.
───Ámbar.
There was no smile. No reproach either. Just a subtle, contained tension.
───Rosales hired you ───Ámbar said, directly.
───Yes.
───Does he know who you are?
───No. Nobody. Only you.
Ámbar nodded slightly. That didn't change things much, but it set the scene.
───This is my place ───she clarified───. My work.
───I know ───Sylvana replied───. I didn't come to interfere. I came to work. And... to respect the distance you need.
Ámbar stared at her. There was no anger in her eyes. Nor forgiveness.
───Knowing who you are doesn't make it any easier to see you ───she said───. But I'm not going to kick you out either.
Sylvana swallowed.
───That's already more than I deserve.
The sound of the Roller continued. No one listened. No one imagined the weight of that brief talk.
───Finish your shift ───Ámbar said───. Then we'll see how we move forward.
It wasn't an invitation. Nor a closing.
Sylvana nodded and returned to her task.
Ámbar returned to the bar. Everything was still working. But the Jam & Roller was no longer just her refuge.
The past had come back to take up space.
And this time, there was no place to pretend it didn't exist.
Ámbar returned to the bar with precise movements. Mechanical ones.
She prepared a coffee she couldn't remember charging. She ordered a tray that was already set.
Outwardly, everything was normal. Inside, it wasn't.
───I'm telling you it's not the same ───said Jazmín, leaning against the bar───. The white skateboard slides differently. It's psychological, but it happens.
───No, Jazmín ───replied Emilia, dryly, with a strong accent───. It slides the same. What happens is that you fall.
───I don't fall! I just slip wrong.
───That's called falling.
Jazmín frowned.
───See? That's why people don't tell you things.
Emilia took a sip of her coffee and glanced at Ámbar out of the corner of her eye. It took her two seconds longer than usual to speak.
───Hey... ───she said───. Boss.
Ámbar looked up.
───Yes?
───You're putting sugar in a cappuccino without foam.
Ámbar looked at the cup. She blinked. She withdrew the spoon.
───Sorry.
Jazmín turned around sharply.
───Oh, no. No, no, no. This is serious.
───What? ───Ámbar asked, confused.
───When you make a mistake with coffee, the universe is out of alignment.
Emilia crossed her arms.
───Also, you have that 'I'm fine' face when you're clearly not.
Ámbar let out a slow exhale. She rested both hands on the bar.
───I'm not bad ───she said, unconvincingly.
───Uh-huh ───the two of them replied at the same time.
Jazmín leaned toward her.
───Is it Simón? Did you fight? Because if it was him, I...
───No ───Ámbar interrupted───. Simón is fine.
Emilia tilted her head.
───Then it's something serious.
Ámbar gave a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes.
───Just... things from the past ───she said───. Things that come back.
Jazmín frowned, genuinely worried.
───I hate it when the past comes back unannounced. It never brings a bill, but it always collects.
Emilia looked at her.
───That was surprisingly deep for you.
───Thanks ───Jazmín replied, proud───. I've grown.
Ámbar let out a brief, almost involuntary laugh. It didn't fix anything, but it loosened her chest.
───I'm fine ───she repeated───. Really.
Emilia didn't insist. She just said:
───Okay. But if you fall apart, let me know. To cover you.
Jazmín nodded vigorously.
───Yes. I make ugly coffees, but I give good hugs.
Ámbar looked at them. And for a second, the knot loosened a little more.
The Jam & Roller kept spinning. The music, the rink, the people. And even though inside Ámbar was still broken, she wasn't alone on this shift.
Sylvana had taken refuge in the side hallway. The music from the dance floor barely reached her, just a faint echo. The smell of coffee mixed with that of cleaning products. She was sitting on a folding chair, hunched over, her hands covering her face.
She cried silently. Not dramatically.
With guilt.
She knew that this encounter was going to happen.
She had known from the first day she accepted the job.
Ámbar was in charge of the Roller. There was no way to avoid her forever.
And yet, when she saw her in front of her, when she saw those eyes (the same ones), she wasn't prepared.
───It wasn't supposed to be like this... ───she murmured, barely audible───. Not like this.
───Not like how?
The voice came from behind. Firm. Controlled.
Sylvana startled and turned her head.
Simón was standing a few steps away. He didn't invade her space, but he didn't step back either. He looked at her with a seriousness that didn't require raising his voice.
───Sorry... ───she managed to say, wiping away her tears───. I didn't...
───What are you doing here? ───he asked, directly───. Showing up now?
Sylvana swallowed.
───I just... needed to see you.
Simón clenched his jaw.
───No ───he denied slowly───. You knew you were going to see her. This wasn't a coincidence.
She lowered her gaze.
───Yes.
The silence was heavy.
───Where were you? ───Simón continued───. All these years? Where were you when she was growing up without answers? When she wondered who she was, where she came from?
Sylvana closed her eyes.
───Surviving ───she said───. As best I could.
───She did too ───he replied───. And without you.
Sylvana looked up, hurt.
───Don't think I don't know. Not a day goes by...
───Don't talk to me about days ───Simón interrupted, with restrained harshness───. Ámbar suffers every day. For Sharon. For her past; for what they didn't tell her. For what they hid from her.
He paused.
───And now you show up. Out of the blue. At her work. In her safe place.
Sylvana put a hand to her chest.
───I didn't mean to hurt her.
───But you did.
The phrase landed cleanly. No anger. No yelling. That made it worse.
───I am her mother... ───she said, broken.
Simón held her gaze.
───No ───he denied───. You are a part of her story. Nothing more.
He took a deep breath.
───And if you open old wounds again without thinking about what she needs, I will be there. Always.
Sylvana looked at him with fresh tears.
───You love her...
───With all my soul ───he replied───. And that includes protecting her, even from you, if necessary.
The noise from the track drifted in a little louder. Laughter. Music. Life.
Sylvana nodded, defeated.
───I didn't know how to go back ───he whispered───. But I didn't know how to move forward without trying either.
Simón took a step back.
───Then learn something ───he said───. Ámbar doesn't need you to show up. She needs you to stay. And not disappear again.
Sylvana was alone once more. Crying.
But this time, understanding.
Simón turned halfway to leave. And then he saw her.
Ámbar was leaning against the hallway wall, a few meters away. She hadn't interrupted. She hadn't made a sound. She had arrived silently... and stayed.
Simón stopped dead in his tracks.
───Ámbar... ───he said, in a whisper.
She stared at him. Eyes wide, shining. Not of immediate tears, but of something deeper. More full.
She had heard everything.
Every word.
Every limit.
Every truth spoken in her name.
Sylvana saw her too and froze. She didn't come closer. She didn't try to explain. She couldn't.
Ámbar didn't look at her. She walked straight to Simón.
Without saying anything, she leaned against his chest and hugged him tightly, as if only there her body allowed her to let go. Simón immediately wrapped his arms around her, without asking, without hesitation.
───Thank you... ───she murmured───. I didn't know how to say it. But you... you said it for me.
Simón rested his cheek on her head.
───Always, my queen ───he replied───. You don't have to carry the pain alone.
Ámbar lifted her face and looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time... and at the same time as if she had known him her whole life.
───Without you ───she said softly───, I wouldn't know who I am.
Simón didn't respond with words. He kissed her on the forehead. A simple gesture. Definitive.
Behind them, Sylvana watched the scene without intervening. With tears. With guilt. And with a certainty she could no longer deny:
Ámbar was not alone. Never again.
And in that embrace, in the middle of the Jam & Roller that kept spinning, Ámbar understood something with a new and luminous clarity:
Simón didn't just love her. He chose her every day.