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CHAPTER SIX, The One ❝ I don't want to be strangers. ❞
THELAUGHTEROFHERTEAMMATES echoed around her as they made their way to the dojo, their voices light and teasing after an early breakfast. Solana walked a few paces behind, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, offering the occasional smile or nod when someone looked her way. But her thoughts had already wandered elsewhere, as they so often did these days.
She had spent the night before staring at the ceiling of the hotel room, her mind replaying a familiar scene she thought she'd outgrown. It always started the same way—the sun, the waves, and him.
She could still feel the warmth of the Acapulco sun on her skin, the salty breeze curling her hair, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. He was there, like a shadow in those memories, his laugh blending with her brother Tadeo's as they raced through the sand.
At fourteen, Solana had been quieter, more hesitant, and unsure of herself. He was the opposite—loud, carefree, and brimming with confidence. He and Tadeo had clicked instantly, spending hours plotting pranks or daring each other to dive into the waves from higher and higher rocks. Solana, always trailing behind them, had been content to watch from a distance.
Until one day, he stopped trailing after Tadeo and started trailing after her.
They'd spent hours walking along the shore, her sandals dangling from her fingers as he told her stories about his life in the small neighborhood near Acapulco. His world was so different from hers—smaller, simpler, and confined to the things he already knew. She found it endearing at first, the way he spoke about staying in Mexico, working with his family, and one day running a little shop in town.
But as the days went on, Solana realized something unsettling. His world didn't stretch beyond those borders, and he didn't seem interested in exploring what lay outside of them. She'd ask him about his dreams, and he'd shrug, offering the same answer: "I just want to make enough, you know? What else is there?"
What else wasn't there? Solana had spent that summer filling notebooks with sketches of places she wanted to visit, scribbling words in French and Arabic, and tracing maps of cities she couldn't wait to see. She couldn't imagine a life where the horizon didn't beckon her forward.
The turning point had been a quiet evening, just the two of them sitting on the edge of the dock, their legs dangling over the water. The sunset had painted the sky in fiery hues, and he'd reached for her hand. For a moment, it felt like the kind of love her mother had warned her about: fleeting, intoxicating, and ultimately empty.
"Do you think you'll ever leave here?" she'd asked him suddenly, her voice softer than usual.
He'd looked at her, puzzled. "Why would I? Everything I need is here."
