ˋ°•*⁀➷In Mijas, Spain, Carlos Martinez and Viola Lopez were childhood rivals, always at each other's throats-whether it was over grades, sports, or just who could outdo the other. Their competitive fire was unmatched, but after graduation, their pat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As Viola led Carlos into her home, he couldn't help but notice how the outside world seemed to fade away the moment they stepped inside. The house was warm and inviting, with a sense of coziness that immediately made him feel at ease. The walls were painted in soft, earthy tones that complemented the wooden floors and the array of plants scattered throughout the space. It was clear that Viola had put a lot of thought into making her home a sanctuary, a place where she could relax and unwind after long days at the bakery.
The living room was the heart of the house, with a large, comfortable couch draped in soft blankets and cushions that practically begged to be sat on. A coffee table in front of it held a few carefully arranged books and a vase of fresh flowers that added a pop of color to the room. The walls were adorned with framed photographs, each one capturing a moment in time that was clearly precious to her. There were pictures of her with her family, with Valentina and Mateo, and even some of her adventures during her time in England. The room exuded warmth and personality, much like its owner.
Carlos took in the sight with a slow nod, impressed by the intimate and personal touches. "You keep on impressing me, Chiquita," he said, his voice full of genuine admiration. "Your house is just like you—beautiful and cozy."
Viola blushed at his words, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as she looked away. "Thanks," she mumbled, trying to hide her embarrassment. She quickly busied herself by setting her purse down on the couch and smoothing out her top, hoping to distract herself from the fluttering feeling in her stomach.
"I'm serious," Carlos continued, his eyes still roaming the room. "You've really made this place your own, just like the bakery. It's... nice to see this side of you."
Viola gave him a small smile before walking over to the kitchen, which was just connected to the living room. The kitchen was bright and airy, with white cabinets and countertops that gleamed under the natural light streaming in through the windows. A few copper pots hung from a rack above the island, and a bowl of fresh fruit sat invitingly on the counter. Everything was neat and organized, but with a lived-in feel that made the space warm rather than sterile.
She opened the fridge and took out a chilled water bottle and a plate of chocolate-covered fruits she had prepared earlier in the morning. She arranged them on a small tray, along with two glasses, and brought them over to the couch where Carlos was still standing, looking around with interest.
As she set the tray down on the coffee table, Carlos noticed a particular photograph hanging on the wall. It was of him and Viola, taken years ago at some event he could barely remember now. In the picture, Viola was laughing, her head thrown back in pure joy, while Carlos was looking at her with an expression of quiet admiration, a smile playing on his lips. He was surprised to see it there, amidst all the other photos.
"You kept that picture?" Carlos asked, a teasing tone creeping into his voice. "I thought you hated it."
Viola blushed even deeper, feeling the warmth spread from her cheeks to her ears. "Well, I looked good in it," she replied with a small shrug, trying to play it off nonchalantly. "And it's a nice memory."
