In the charming town of Edinburg, Dulce runs her late mother's bakery. Her life changes when she agrees to a house exchange with a famous couple in Paris. Upon arrival, she is startled to find not one but two men (twins) sharing the house.
Drawn int...
After Angelo decided to go out to work, Pierre and Dulce, in order to kill time, decided to go to the movie theater. They made their way through the crowded streets, Dulce could not help but notice that the protests had only intensified since she got there and the crowd had pressed in around them. The suffocating surroundings caused frustration in her.. She wanted nothing more than to be in their nice apartment, just playing games, eating, cuddling and maybe even kissing sometimes. Yet now, deprived of resources, they found their fantasies slipping away.
Dulce's deep sigh meant a discontent that Pierre didn't fail to notice.
"What's wrong?" He asked, wrapping her hand in his gently.
"You know, I thought your parents had money. Back at home, you mentioned they owned the bakery. And aren't they some sort of famous filmmakers? That's what Eliza told me."
"They are comfortable." He replied simply, but it only increased Dulce's frustration. She desired to know more.
"How come you never talk about them? None of you do." She pressed, genuinely interested.
"Why should we? They're not a significant part of our lives." He responded. He said in a way that was unexpectedly matter of fact. Dulce was taken aback.
"What do you mean by that? They're your parents, Pierre. You're fortunate to have them." Her words brought back memories of her own mom. Guilt hit her heart, which was something she only felt whenever she thought sexual things about the twins. Those feelings would bring her mother no pride.
Pierre's demeanor changed after her statement. The warmth of his smile had washed out, and it made her feel remorse. Yet, the need to understand them better replaced any desire to apologize.
"Hey, so, what movie are we gonna watch again?" He asked, hinting an unwillingness to go deeper into his family matters. Dulce, not very sure about what her own boundaries were, chose silence. What were they, after all, to each other? That was a real question.
"Hm?" He asked, bringing her back to reality.
"Oh, uhm... I don't know. You choose." She replied.
By that time they had already reached the theater and could see all of the posters in display. Pierre's finger traced the borders of a familiar title: The Night of the Living Dead. Instantly, memories washed over Dulce, remembering her date with Arthur. It was a memory she cherished but also wished to forget.
"Let's pick another one." She said, rolling her eyes at the memories she had been avoiding.
"You're too scared, huh?" He teased. Dulce, despite her love for the genre, chose a simpler response. "Mmh."
The title of the film Pierre had chosen didn't mean anything to Dulce in that moment because all she truly wished for was a lighter film. As they sat on their seats at the back of the theater, she felt relief. The darkness offered her a safe space, a place to hide the tears that were about to come out. Her mind kept going back to her mother. Earlier, when she thought about her and how disappointed she would have been, she didn't think the thoughts would come back to haunt her, but there they were.
The dim light hid her features, camouflaging the glimmer of tears that shimmered in her eyes. But even in the darkness, she couldn't suppress the soft sniffles escaping her. She realized that Pierre would notice, so she quickly excused herself, slipping out to the restroom, desperate for a moment alone to compose herself.
Panic overcame her once she got there and she stared at her reflection: her eyes puffy and red, her nose a runny mess. Each breath was, instead, a desperate gasp, and she held on to her chest, hoping her heart would stop racing. But it beat on, and on, and on. She turned on the sink to let the water run because the sound of it running blended with her quiet sobs as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Each shaky inhale felt exaggerated, and she prayed in silence that no one occupied any of the stalls there.
Desperation got the best of her so she cupped her hands, splashing cold water over her face, indifferent to the mascara that ran down her cheeks. She didn't want to appear red and pitiful, yet each attempt to steady herself was not enough. Just as she was about to calm down and compose herself, the sound of a toilet flushing scared her, and she bolted out of there before anyone could see.
As she made her way back to the theater, she rapidly dabbed at her eyes with a paper towel, in an attempt to dry her tears. In her distracted moment, she slammed into something solid.
"Oops, pardon."She murmured, her eyes still looking down, eager to move past the person. But then she felt a firm yank on her arm, pulling her back. She slightly stumbled, disoriented.
"I said I'm s-" Her words delayed as she looked up and her heart sank at the sight of a tall figure with piercing blue eyes locking on hers. It was Arthur. A wave of dread washed over her.
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