El camarero y la marquesita, a carmuel story.

A glimmer of hope

Carla was still shaken up after Lu's Valentine Party. Seeing Samuel dance with Rebeka, talking to him, being near him... It was too much. She had always prided herself in keeping her composure no matter the situation but right now all she wanted to do was scream. Her resolve to stay away from him was dangerously wavering. She did not know what to do anymore.

Apparently, he knew that too for he caught her wrist in the school's hallways, tugging her in the direction of the changing rooms. A dangerous move, especially if someone they knew was around. She wondered what kind of lie she would give if Yeray found them.

"What do you want?" She frowned slightly, crossing her arms across her chest in order not to be tempted to touch him.

"We need to talk."

"About...?"

"Something is wrong. I know it. Yesterday you... You were sad."

"You're seeing things. I was perfectly fine."

"You're lying. Again."

He was watching her carefully, trying to analyze her features, her reactions.

"Carla, please. I just want to help."

"I don't need it. You're wasting your time. And mine. Are we done yet?"

She tried to move but he stopped her, gently placing a hand on her forearm.

"Is it because of... What I did to you? When I made you think I disappeared?"

Samuel was looking at her intensely, searching in her eyes for any sign of recognition. For anything at all.

"You didn't do anything to me. As I have said countless times, I don't care as much as you think."

"Then why did you confess?"

Her stomach twisted and she looked away. Truth was, perhaps a part of her did hate him for making her go through hell a few weeks ago. She could still remember perfectly the sharp pain, the fear that had taken over her whole body when he wouldn't respond to her messages. The tears rolling down her cheek, the frantic sobs she would shed when she was alone, thinking of the worst scenarios.

"I," she began coldly, "thought you were dead."

"I know."

"You claim to care about how I feel, but you don't. Otherwise, you wouldn't have done that. You would have chosen me instead of your vendetta."

Carla immediately bit her tongue, hating herself for speaking too much. Her tone of voice was bitter, her eyes sending lightning bolts.

"It wasn't a vendetta, it was justice and —"

"What difference does it make? You chose to make me suffer. That's what you wanted, isn't it? To make sure I would be in pain, so I would run to the police. Don't say you care when it's so obvious you don't."

These words had been a weight on her chest ever since she had figured out the trap he had laid for her with Guzmán's help. Now that they were finally out, Carla's eyes were gleaming with tears.

He swallowed hard, looking at her with knitted brows.

"Carla, I—"

"Don't bother."

"I am sorry I hurt you. I really am. You have to understand that it was the only way to clean my brother's name. I care about you, I..." he stopped himself before two other words could leave his mouth. He took a step forward. "Please. Believe me."