Time seemed to stand still.

But he didn’t.

The rain continued to pound the roof of the barn, as if it wanted to remind Diego that the world out there hadn’t stopped, that what was happening inside… wasn’t isolated from anything.

Isabela did not look away.

He wasn’t trembling.

She wasn’t crying.

And that was what worried him the most.

Because it wasn’t the look of someone who was lost.

It was the image of someone who had already been through worse… and was still standing.

“Who?” Diego asked bluntly.

She looked down for a second. Not out of weakness… but as if she were choosing how much she could say.

—A man who doesn’t accept “no”.

The silence fell heavily.

Diego placed a hand on the wooden post, feeling the dampness in the air, the smell of wet earth mixed with hay.

—Your husband?

Isabela shook her head slowly.

-Worse.

He didn’t explain further.

And it wasn’t necessary.

Because there was something about her posture… about how she kept her body ready to move… that said enough.

Diego barely nodded.

—Nobody enters here without me seeing them first.

She looked up again.

—You think so.

That phrase… wasn’t a challenge.

It was a warning.

Diego didn’t answer right away. He looked toward the barn door. The wind was shaking it hard, making the hooks vibrate.

—How long have you been on the run?

-Days.

—And him?

—He doesn’t get tired.

That got him thinking.

Because those kinds of people… weren’t looking to recover anything.

He was trying to prove something.

And when someone like that was following your trail… they didn’t stop at the first closed door.

“You can stay,” he finally said. “But I’m not going to hide you without knowing what I’m getting myself into.”

Isabela stared at him.

—You’re already involved.

Another inconvenient truth.

The wind hit harder.

The lamp flickered.

And at that moment… Diego felt something he didn’t quite recognize.

It wasn’t fear.

It was… consciousness.

That her life, so orderly, so repetitive, so safe in its isolation… had just been shattered.

Not because of his own decision.

But by someone who had crossed their path without asking permission.

“I’m going to make coffee,” she said, turning towards the makeshift table in the back.

Not because it was necessary.

But because he needed to move.

Think.

Isabela did not follow him.

She stood there, watching him.

As if he hadn’t yet decided whether to trust… or prepare to run away at any moment.

“You don’t have to stay in the barn,” he added. “The house is safer.”

“I can see the door here,” she replied.

Diego nodded.

That also said a lot.

She prepared the coffee in silence. The sound of the boiling water mingled with the storm, creating a strange, constant rhythm.

When he handed her the cup, his fingers brushed against hers.

One second.

Nothing else.

But it was enough.

Because for Diego… that kind of contact wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

It wasn’t part of his world.

And yet… he didn’t feel uncomfortable.

He felt… conscious.

Isabela took the coffee, but didn’t drink it right away.

“You’re not like the others,” he said.

—You don’t know the others.

—Yes, I know them.

That ended the conversation.

Diego sat on a wooden bench, resting his arms on his knees.

—Why me?

She took a while to answer.

He looked around.

The barn.

The calm animals.

The order.

The absence of chaos.

—Because this place… doesn’t look like it belongs to someone who sells to others.

Diego let out a small exhalation.

—I don’t.

-I know.

Silence returned.

But this time… it wasn’t awkward.

It was as if they were both measuring the terrain.

Understanding the limits.

The sound of the rain began to change. Louder. More irregular.

Hail.

Hitting the ceiling hard.

The horses became a little restless.

Diego stood up to calm them down, moving among them with the confidence that only habit can provide.

Isabela watched him.

Every gesture.

Every move.

And something in her gaze barely changed.

It wasn’t trust.

But it wasn’t pure distrust either.

It was… a pause.

“You could leave when the storm passes,” he said, without looking at her. “Take supplies. Avoid main roads.”

She did not answer.

When Diego turned back to her, he found her staring intently at him.

“And you?” he asked.

—What about me?

—Are you going to just stand by and act like nothing happened after this?

The question caught him off guard.

Because it wasn’t about her.

It was about him.

About his life before that moment.

About that routine that he had built so as not to think about anything else.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

And that was the first time in a long time that he said it out loud.

Isabela nodded slowly.

—Then it’s changed.

The sound of the hail began to lessen.

But not the weight in the air.

Not the change that had already been made.

Diego walked towards the barn door.

She barely opened it.

The wind came in strong, cold, laden with wet earth.

And then he felt it.

He didn’t see it first.

He felt it.

That presence.

That interruption in the natural silence of the countryside.

Like when an animal stops moving for no apparent reason.

Like when everything… stands still before something.

He slammed the door.

—We are not alone.

Isabela didn’t ask.

He didn’t need to do it.

She put the cup aside.

And his stance changed.

He was no longer someone seeking refuge.

He was someone who was ready to survive.

“How many?” he whispered.

Diego picked up his rifle and quickly checked it.

—Enough.

The blows came seconds later.

Not at the door.

On the walls.

As if they wanted to test the structure.

As if they weren’t in a hurry.

“Come out, Mendoza,” said a voice from outside, muffled by the rain. “We know you have it.”

The surname.

That confirmed everything.

It was no coincidence.

It never was.

Diego looked at Isabela.

—Stay back.

-No.

—It’s not an option.

She held his gaze.

—It never is.

Another blow.

Stronger.

The wood creaked.

“We don’t want any trouble,” the voice continued. “We’ve only come for what’s ours.”

Isabela closed her eyes for a second.

As if those words were piercing something that was already broken.

“I belong to no one,” she said, barely audible.

But Diego heard her.

And something in her chest… settled.

It wasn’t his fight.

It wasn’t their story.

But now… it was there.

And he wasn’t going to step aside.

He stood in front of the door.

“No one enters here without permission,” he said, raising his voice.

A laugh answered.

—Then we’ll go in without asking.

The next blow made the entire structure tremble.

Elena—no, Isabela—took a step forward.

Not to hide.

To be.

And at that moment… Diego understood.

It wasn’t about protecting her.

It was about not letting them turn her back into something she had already decided to stop being.

Outside, the storm was beginning to calm down.

But inside…

It was all just beginning.

And Diego, for the first time in years…

He didn’t want things to go back to the way they were before.