Chapter Eleven: The Most Painful Truth.

Nearly two months had passed, and Patricia's song was beginning to play strongly on national radio stations. The publicity that came with it meant being far from Enric. She had appeared on every regional television network—from Madrid she had gone to Galicia, Andalusia, and the Basque Country, among others—and only Catalonia remained to complete the tour.

Enric had managed to postpone that province until the end to buy time, pulling strings and calling in favors.

While his beloved Patricia traveled from one end of the country to the other, he missed her more and more. If she was away, he might reread a page from the tiny diary. He no longer felt anguish reading those lines, no longer tried to understand Soraya—now he simply felt affection, a tenderness as light and sweet as it was compassionate.

The movie was going well, though not as quickly as the executives had expected. Enric didn't care; he only showed up once or twice a week, just to make an appearance. A couple of times he invited Ginny and Belén to visit the set, since after all, the story was theirs, but both women were always busy.

Before resuming the promotional tour, Patricia returned to Madrid and took a week off to rest. She brought gifts to her parents from the cities she had visited but spent little time with them. She was practically with Enric the whole time when he wasn't working.

That Thursday in May, Enric received a call from his former landlord in Barcelona. When he answered, he didn't expect what the man on the other end of the line told him, and at a certain point in the conversation, he hurriedly got out of bed and went to the living room, closing the door so Patricia wouldn't hear. At first, she didn't think much of it, but he was taking so long to return that she feared it might be something serious.

"What did he want?" she asked, trying not to make a big deal of the answer.

"He says I received a letter at my old house that I need to go pick up."

"Oh, great!" the girl's face lit up. "Then you can come to Barcelona with me—you get your letter and I do some sightseeing... sound like a good idea?"

"Too late!" he approached her and kissed her. "I gave him this address and he'll forward it. It'll arrive Monday or Tuesday, most likely."

"Did he say if it was urgent?"

"It shouldn't be—it's over a year old." Enric started to get a bit nervous. "How about we take a walk around Madrid?"

The girl eagerly agreed; she felt like sightseeing and chose none other than Gran Vía. That time Enric had gone with Rubén, he had been disappointed by the avenue, but he wanted to hear Patricia's anecdotes to see the famous street of Madrid through different eyes.

"A friend of a friend of that friend you know worked here," Patricia pointed to a building on the left.

Enric laughed.

"Look, a monologue tonight!" She seemed as if she had never walked down the famous avenue and was interested in everything. "There's that big brand!"

"Have you been here before?"

"By bus, a thousand times, obviously. Walking like this, only a couple of times and when I was little. So little I don't even remember."

"And you never came back?"

"My sister Eva was six years old, Soraya and I had just turned one when a mugger put a knife to Eva's neck. He demanded money from my mom's purse and my dad's wallet. There were very few people walking around at that hour, and a pair of police officers across the street were doing their rounds. My parents say we babies were arguing, but when we saw the mugger, we started crying and screaming so loudly that the police arrived and managed to detain him. My sister Eva got a wound on her shoulder because she bit his hand before the uniformed pair reached us."

"But you were babies!"

"Maybe, but my parents didn't want to risk it happening again, so we never came back. The thing is, until we started going out with friends, we couldn't walk down Gran Vía. Eva came often, Soraya went back and forth sometimes, and I, since my friends were in the Carabanchel neighborhood, didn't really come near here."

The boy liked to look at her constantly, and in a simple blink, he noticed the small shop across the street.

"My treat," Enric had spotted an ice cream shop two hundred meters away.

In the ice cream shop, they talked about the movie. It was set to premiere the first week of June, and by mid-May, she still hadn't promoted the song on all the country's TV stations. Patricia felt conflicted—she wanted to leave to finish her job and wanted to stay to be with him.

"Well, since I'm going, I'll do a bit of sightseeing in the morning. Just a little. I still have six studios to visit in just three days, like a marathon session. Luckily they'll be recorded, and only one will be live."

Enric laughed again.

"Then go tomorrow!" He put his arm around her shoulders—he was still surprised by his recent spontaneity—and pulled her close. "But stay with me tonight," he asked.

They left the ice cream shop and passed by a clothing store. In the window were two male mannequins alongside two female ones. Each pair was dressed differently. They seemed to represent Enric's two lives: the one in Barcelona—sober, elegant, and boringly monotonous—and the one in Madrid—simple, humane, empathetic, and childishly innocent.

"Buy yourself something, treat yourself!" Patricia suggested.

Enric shrugged and went in. Patricia followed him. They came out an hour later with several bags each. He took something from one of the bags and gave it to her.

"A headband? Why did you buy this?"

"For you. I know it's small, but at least it's just yours." Enric looked at her apologetically.

"Oh!" she opened her eyes a bit wider—he could be so sweet. "Was that the reason? Well, you should've told me," and Patricia brushed it off.

The girl took off the hair tie holding her golden mane and put on the headband. She looked playful and walked ahead of Enric by five meters. Then she stopped abruptly and turned around. She was holding a photograph. When he caught up, he looked at the image—it was the three sisters as children with their parents.