Dear M

Chapter 1

January 1st, 2019,

 There was something in the air, a mix of excitement and unease. It was the first New Year Mary and Mauro would spend together, and the idea of staying with their families wasn't exactly appealing. Though they each had their reasons, they didn't even bother to discuss it. Mauro was the first to suggest spending the entire day with her, and while Mary was taken aback, she agreed, feeling a blend of relief and anxiety. The thought of Mauro seeing her simple, modest surroundings made her uneasy, but she chose to ignore it. After all, it was a new day—a chance to start fresh.

Trying to bring some order to what felt like a chaotic day, Mary grabbed a notebook and a black pen, starting to scribble down a list of things to do.

—New day, new us,—she said, smiling as she tapped the pen on her notepad. —Any ideas?—Yes. Cooking. Please, I'm starving. This is practically torture,—Mauro replied with dramatic flair, clutching his stomach like a stage actor.

Mary laughed, though still determined to be organized.—Okay, cooking it is. And what about... ice skating—she added, knowing full well it wasn't a serious suggestion.Mauro gave her a look as if she had just proposed something impossible.—I can't skate. My skills barely extend to walking... and even that's debatable.—A spark of mock fear glimmered in his eyes.Mary smiled, giving in as she snapped the notebook shut.—Fine, no ice skating then.—How about you ditch that list and we just... wing it? It's like you're planning a rescue mission or something.

Still smiling, Mary headed to the kitchen, grabbing cereal, milk, and two bowls. She poured the cereal first, then the milk. Mauro, observing her in stunned silence, wore a mix of mock horror and amusement.

—What are you doing? Milk goes first, always!—he said, appalled.Mary raised an eyebrow, incredulous.—You put the cereal first so you know how much milk to pour. Haven't you learned anything?—Cereal first? Amateur move,—Mauro countered, his voice so deadpan it was impossible to tell if he was joking.They spent several minutes debating the "correct" order, but eventually reached a truce by trying each other's method. Naturally, they both returned to their original preferences.

—Why are you microwaving it?—Mauro asked, as he watched Mary heat up her bowl.—I like soggy cereal—she shrugged.

Mauro stared at her with exaggerated disbelief.—You're weird, like really weird.

He ruffled her hair playfully, using his height to his advantage.

Mary just smiled as they resumed eating, finding an odd joy in the mundane absurdity of their discussion.

Later that afternoon,

After failing to decide on what to do next, Mauro suggested making pasta.

—I'll teach you how to make the best pasta you've ever had. It's my grandma's recipe, minus the Italian yelling,—he said, opening the pantry with the confidence of a TV chef.

 Mary watched him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes. She wasn't exactly known for her cooking skills, in fact, she was pretty terrible at it.

—I'm... not great at cooking,—she confessed, trying not to sound too insecure.

—Don't worry. It can't go that! wrong... unless you burn the water. Which, well, let's not test that theory.—He winked, but there was something undeniably endearing in his tone.

Mary joined in, though everything she touched seemed to get worse. She cut the onions into massive chunks, accidentally burned the sauce, and nearly dropped the entire bag of pasta into the sink. With every mistake, guilt weighed heavier on her.

—I'm sorry... I'm a disaster,—she muttered, trying to salvage the sauce.Mauro just chuckled.

—A disaster? Nah, you're a culinary chaos artist.—He winked again, his usual teasing tone lightening the atmosphere

—But don't worry. I've got it under control... sort of. Except for the sauce... maybe not that.

His carefree attitude eased Mary's tension. In the end, the pasta wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for a decent lunch. As it cooled, they decided to step out onto the balcony.While they waited for the pasta, the rain began. At first, just a few droplets, but soon it turned into a steady downpour. They stood on the balcony, soaking in the sound of the rain, when Mauro spotted something: traffic cones, marking the closed-off street.

—Hey, what if we steal those cones?—he said suddenly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

—What?... Why?—Mary blinked at him, surprised, though the idea immediately struck her as hilarious

—Because that's what normal people do when it rains. They steal traffic cones.—Mauro paused, letting Mary process the ridiculousness of it —Come on, it'll be fun.

Feeling a rush of excitement, Mary followed him.They ran through the rain, laughing like kids, until they reached the cones. Mauro grabbed one and popped it on his head.

—Mission accomplished,—he announced, mimicking a secret agent's voice.

Mary did the same, struggling to contain her laughter as they tried to walk back, tripping over each other with every step. Between fits of giggles, they eventually collapsed into a puddle, but neither the cold nor the wetness mattered. It was one of those moments that would etch itself into their memories forever.

As they finally wriggled out of their cone helmets back at the apartment, Mary glanced at Mauro, grateful for his presence.

—By the way...—she started, recalling the moment he'd told her his real name— Why did you tell me your real name? Mauro met her gaze, a smile playing at his lips, but this time there was something different in his eyes—something more genuine.

—Because... with you, I don't have to hide who I am. I've always kept that secret for... family reasons.—He paused as if weighing whether to say more—But with you, I feel free. I don't know why. It just feels right.

Mary studied him, taking in his words. There was something deeper about Mauro than he usually let on, and in that moment, she saw him more vulnerable than ever. But before she could respond, Mauro flashed his usual grin, slipping back into his familiar tone.

—But don't get used to it. My name is still top secret, okay?—He winked, breaking the tension.Just as Mary was about to say something, the sound of a key turning in the lock shattered the mood.

The door swung open, and the unsteady figure of her father stood in the doorway. The atmosphere changed in an instant.

—What the hell is all this noise?—he slurred, the smell of alcohol heavy on the air. He looked disoriented, and frustrated, like something about the scene irritated him for no apparent reason. Mary froze, her face draining of color. Mauro, who had been about to make another lighthearted comment, went silent, watching the situation unfold with careful eyes. The tension was palpable.

—Dad...—Mary whispered, her voice barely audible. She knew what came next after that look on his face.