Chapter Thirteen: The Secrets Kept.

It was a happy early June day, the sun subtly entered through the window at eight in the morning that Saturday. The soft and scattered rays of light caressed Patricia's curves without waking her. Enric watched the scene from the door of the small room, considering himself such a happy man that he ignored the coffee pot whistling on the kitchen stove. The smell of coffee filled the entire living room and quickly entered the bedroom, making him realize he needed to remove the small coffee pot from the heat.

An empty bowl, a small jug of milk, another with hot coffee, the cutlery, some cookies, an apple, and as a finishing touch, an orange daisy—all delicately arranged on a tray.

Enric walked slowly to the bedroom so as not to wake her, but the strong smell had already done so. Patricia sat up upon seeing him enter. She smiled. She briefly rubbed her eyes and discovered the breakfast tray in front of her.

"You don't expect all this to be for me!"

"All this and more."

"There's more?"

Enric laughed. He excused himself to go to the bathroom and left the room. Patricia prepared her breakfast while nibbling on a couple of cookies. When the boy returned, Patricia was sipping her coffee with milk directly from the bowl. The girl had an idea and wanted to surprise the boy that day, although she didn't know how to attract Enric to visit her parents.

Now that they had reconciled, and she knew Soraya had passed away, it seemed logical to introduce them. If there was any problem, she would defend Enric. She knew that if they hadn't heard from her sister, it had been by the deceased's own will.

"I've shown you Madrid, but you still don't know where I live. Want me to show you?"

"Sounds good to me."

They finished breakfast, this time in the living room. They changed clothes and tidied up a bit before leaving the house. Enric, as he was about to close the door, felt a sensation in his body very similar to the one he had felt months ago before meeting Patricia. He looked toward the bookshelf, with the books, comics, and the binder. His gaze stopped at the gap left by the largest book, propped to avoid falling, which guarded, with secrecy, Soraya's diary.

"Enric, let's go!" Patricia shouted from the stairwell.

The boy approached the bookshelf and took it. Maybe he did it out of habit, but he knew he shouldn't have it in his possession. No matter how much Soraya had decided to leave her past life behind, that object would always stand between him and Patricia. When he reached the doorway, he already had the little book in his back pocket, and by the time they exited the building, his mind had forgotten he was carrying it.

The convenience of public transport was overshadowed by having to make several transfers to reach the town where she lived. When they finally arrived and got off the bus, they came across a grocery store and bought something to snack on while she showed him where Soraya and she had grown up.

"We used to play in this park when we were little, a neighbor watched over us, and Eva would lose her mind over him."

They walked through a small, sheltered, and familiar park. Patricia bent slightly as she spoke, as if searching for a familiar face among a group of people sitting around a bench.

Beyond the park, they found a well-kept church, with wrought iron gates that gave it a strange luxurious touch like a closed porch.

"My parents got married here."

She said while slowly walking on the asphalt just at the feet of the sacred building.

A garden welcomed those who worshipped Jesus Christ in that church, among tall trees that provided shade. A path made of slate slabs invited them to descend between the two parts into which the garden was divided. They went down the path until they reached the parking lot, and there they could see another path made the same way as the church's, but completely straight, leading to the doors of several houses.

"Over there is the cemetery, and behind it, the high school. But don't show interest, because I studied in Madrid, in the capital."

Enric declined his momentary interest in that path, and they continued their walk, leaving the church behind. The asphalt had long been receiving the sun's heat. As they walked down the street, another more worn by use crossed in front of them—it was the main road.

"In that direction, about a hundred and fifty meters away, is the town hall square."

She pointed to her right, toward the west end of the street.

"And this whole development"

Patricia opened her arms, looking toward the opposite sidewalk.

", used to be a fenced plot with a tower that was an abandoned dovecote. Eva used to come play when she was little, and neither Soraya nor I wanted to come. They built the whole complex the year before Eva died."

"I'm sorry."

Enric tried to comfort her.

"Look, it's this way."

She said, pointing east, and they continued walking.

"Don't worry. I got over Eva's death thanks to music, but I did it the same way Soraya took refuge in drawing. But I don't feel alone, as if Soraya were still alive—I can't explain it better."

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, that special bond that connects twins—I don't feel it's broken. Maybe that's why I felt drawn to you from the beginning. Don't you think?"

"Sounds mysteriously implausible."

Enric was skeptical.

"Laugh all you want, but it's proven. I'm surprised someone as romantic as you doesn't believe in these things."

"I was there, and I can assure you she was no longer alive."

Enric's heart still twisted at the memory of the bitter scene.

They arrived at the door of a small house, with a small porch filled with geraniums of every possible color. A very original raffia knot curtain revealed a double-leaf oak-colored door. Patricia rang the doorbell despite having her house keys in hand.