I descended more slowly this time, as if needing to buy time to regain control. I find him in the living room, talking with my mother. She laughs at some comments of his, and I pause for a moment at the last step. I watched him without him seeing me.
Yes, his gestures move me. His presence moves me. But tenderness isn't love. Attraction isn't a promise. And I refuse half-truths dressed as romance.
I approached, the sunflower still on my mind, and smiled again. But this time it's a calmer smile. More mine.
"Thank you for waiting for me," I say, taking a seat next to them.
He nods, his eyes find mine again.
And although my heart beats harder, my mind remains firm.
Maybe tonight is only about flowers and smiles. Maybe, for now, that's enough.
*****
Martin
While we keep watch in front
