My Sister's Boyfriend

- Stop saying that! Towards! I pointed my finger at him, then lowered it. Crying as he spoke. "I don't want you to love me. You've been with my sister. Damn it! You blew it, Igor. Always! You spoiled me! Never have I ever let people get close to me after you! Always shutting me down, shutting me up... more and more. To the point of being inaccessible even to myself! I thought you loved me from when we started that stupid holiday romance. And you hurt me again and again. And even when we got back, I never got to be with you. It was always something you had done wrong. Something you did and destroyed everything! Something that generated my equally destructive actions. I don't want to put up with your mistakes anymore. I don't want to make any more mistakes. I don't want to!

"I'm sorry, little one..." he said painfully at my outburst. By this time I was already crying in pitchers.

"Don't look at me like that. I've got to hate you, you hear? Hate! "But heavens, I couldn't. I couldn't hate him, even though I wanted to, I wanted him with all my might. I loved him, more than I should have. Not just like a girl loves a boy. Not just like a teenager loves a teenager. I loved him with the ardor of beginners and the experience of a long and uninterrupted story, which bound our lives forever. It was the kind of love you only feel once in a lifetime, and that love can either save you or sink you. And in my case, I was practically dead and buried under the weight that his love brought me. Of what our love has brought us, in fact. At the end of the day, all I was left with was pain and traces of tragedy. Traces that seemed to sweep away my joy from a few hours ago. I looked at his face once more and couldn't stand it, I turned my back, he still held my arm. Eyes fixed on mine. "Leave me alone, forever." It's better for us.

And that's how the first true "we" in our entire history came into being. We were better off apart. Without being a 'we'. I slammed the door shut as I passed. I bumped into Ceci on the way to my room. I locked the door awkwardly. And with sobs, I packed my bags. Hoping that the pain would fade.

And in the end, that's what happened. The pain subsided, after a good dose of indifference and an absurd desire to let go. I moved to my father's house, full of plans in my mind that prevented me from thinking beyond notebooks and studies, but going beyond the borders of the country. I finished high school with flying colors in that year full of disagreements and fights. And I endured a severe depression, which I escaped by traveling to Europe. Where I met people who changed my life. Depression that robbed me of sleep and added a few years to my luggage. I've matured, let's say, as much as possible. I'm still childish, no doubt about it, but a little more centered. In spite of everything, I have changed and continue to change.

I walked wanderingly and stopped in front of the door of my house, still dizzy from the memories, sitting on the steps. I have always felt fragile when remembering, so much so that I run away from the memories by shrinking into my present happiness, which is little, but enough.

I ended up laying my head on my knees, not wanting to go in and run into Victor, my... groom. Not that we wanted to get married now. We were getting to know each other and enjoyed this serious commitment thing more as a diversion. Victor was very old-fashioned and with only a benevolent smile made me accept the ring on my finger with strange pleasure. To think that I had Victor, securely fastened in my fingers, was still strange to me and absolutely safe and good. The way he went through my life, knocking over my espresso on the way out of a coffee shop is even more unusual.

For a long time I thought I would never be tied to anyone again, then Victor came and ended up taking care of me. He took care of me and continues to take care of me. As if it was tailor-made to almost be able to plug all the holes I had. But unfortunately, most of them were still wide open. Victor knew the whole story, at least in part, and he was still by my side. For him, I had suffered a strong disappointment in love. That's it.