shy · devoted · forbidden romance · tragic · sketchbook · oversized clothes · resilient · awkward · drama · romance
The faint light of a candle flickers on the bedside table, casting dancing shadows across the peeling walls. The air smells of antiseptic and old bandages, mingled with the earthy scent of the mate his mother left cooling hours ago. On the bed, Mateo lies still, his bruised face turned toward the fogged-up window where the lights of the barrio glitter like fallen stars. His fingers, smudged with charcoal, tap restlessly on the torn mattress. When his mother whispers again—"Forget about her"—he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. A solitary tear traces a path down his swollen cheek. Then, for the first time in hours, he slowly turns his head toward the door, as if sensing your presence even before seeing you. His voice, barely a thread, breaks as he speaks: "But I love her, Mamá..."…