Sebastian didn’t say anything at first.

She stood there, the mug still warm in her hand, staring at the stain that didn’t fit the scene she’d imagined upon waking. It wasn’t just blood. It was the way she was looking at her… as if it were nothing new, as if it were something she already knew all too well.

“Valentina…” he finally said, but his voice came out lower than he expected.

She didn’t look up immediately.

She kept hugging herself, as if trying to hold onto something that was slipping away from her inside.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And that word… didn’t sound like an apology for the bed, or for the night.

It sounded like something older.

Heavier.

Sebastian put the cup down on the table.

He approached slowly, without invading, without touching her yet.

“Hey…” he said. “You don’t have to apologize for this.”

Valentina shook her head.

Once.

Then another one.

“That’s not it,” he murmured.

And then he looked up.

Her eyes were red, but not just from recent crying.

There was tiredness.

Much older.

“I didn’t come prepared for this,” she added.

Sebastian frowned slightly.

-So that?

She swallowed.

He hesitated.

For a second, it seemed like it was going to close again.

As if that topic belonged to a place that no one had access to.

But something in his gaze… in the way he didn’t turn away, didn’t get impatient… made me breathe differently.

Deeper.

Slower.

—Years ago… —she began—. I thought my body was no longer going to be like everyone else’s.

Silence settled between them.

Not uncomfortable.

Attentive.

“When I was nineteen,” he continued, “I was diagnosed with a problem.”

He looked down at his hands.

—Nothing visible. Nothing anyone could notice. But enough to make anything involving intimacy… complicated.

Sebastian did not interrupt.

Not once.

“Pain,” she finally said. “And fear.”

He shrank a little more.

—And then… time.

A long time without even trying.

He looked up again.

“It wasn’t just physical,” he added. “It was… the idea that something was wrong with me.”

Sebastian felt something move inside him.

It wasn’t pity.

It was something else.

Something more uncomfortable.

More honest.

—And never…? —he began, but stopped.

She understood the question even before it was finished.

—No —he replied—. Never.

Silence returned.

But it wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was different.

As if each word were arranging pieces that were previously loose.

“Last night…” she said. “I didn’t know if I was going to be able to.”

A small, humorless laugh escaped her lips.

—I didn’t even know if I wanted to take the risk.

She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

—But I was also tired of feeling that there was a part of me… that was never going to exist.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed.

Carefully.

Leaving space.

—And now… —he murmured.

Valentina looked at the sheet.

Then to him.

—Now I don’t know what to feel.

There was no drama in his voice.

There was confusion.

Raw.

“Because it hurts,” he admitted. “But not like before.”

He paused.

—And that… scares me even more.

Sebastian rested his elbows on his knees.

He stared at the ground for a few seconds.

Processing.

Not what had happened.

But what I hadn’t seen.

“I…” he began, but stopped.

It was strange.

He was usually not at a loss for words.

“I didn’t know that,” he finally said.

Valentina nodded.

-I know.

And that answer was beyond reproach.

That threw him off more than anything else.

“But perhaps you should have said so,” he added carefully.

She barely smiled.

A tired smile.

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But I didn’t come here to be looked after.”

He looked directly at him.

—I came to feel something real.

The atmosphere between them changed.

Sebastian held her gaze.

For the first time since I met her… without that automatic certainty.

—And was it? —he asked.

Valentina did not respond immediately.

He looked around the room.

The morning light coming in through the window.

The silence after the storm.

And then she went back to him.

—Yes —he said.

Simple.

No frills.

And that… was enough.

Sebastian took a deep breath.

She ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t believe in love,” she said, almost as if she were repeating something she always said.

She didn’t react.

It wasn’t new.

“But this…” he added. “This doesn’t feel like something that can be ignored.”

Valentina watched him.

Not with hope.

Not with fear.

Just… present.

“You don’t have to turn it into anything,” he said.

-I know.

There was a pause.

Long.

But not empty.

“And you?” he asked. “What do you want now?”

That question… did make her hesitate.

Not because I didn’t have an answer.

But because she had never allowed herself to do it.

“I want to stop being afraid of my own body,” she finally said.

His words did not tremble.

—I want to understand it… without feeling that it’s broken.

Sebastian nodded.

Slow.

—Then start by not apologizing for him.

Valentina lowered her gaze.

That phrase… affected him differently.

Not as advice.

As a permit.

Silence returned.

But now it was soft.

“I’m going to change the sheets,” he said, getting up.

Not as an escape.

As a simple gesture.

She watched him as he moved around the room.

Leisurely.

Without excessive discomfort.

As if that… wasn’t something that should be hidden.

And at that moment… something inside her settled.

Not completely.

But enough.

When Sebastian returned, he found her sitting the same way.

But different.

More present.

“Are you staying for breakfast?” he asked.

Valentina hesitated.

One second.

—Yes —he replied.

Not because everything was resolved.

But because I no longer felt the need to run away.

He got up slowly.

The body is still sensitive.

But no longer an enemy.

And as she walked towards the kitchen, she understood something she hadn’t been able to name before.

It wasn’t night.

It wasn’t nine times.

It wasn’t the blood.

It was the fact that, for the first time in years… she hadn’t hidden from herself.

And so…

even though it still hurt a little…

I was also beginning to free her.