The high temperature of the place made Alba wake up, a little dazed, she looked around. The place was familiar, eerily familiar.

The calmness with which she woke up was replaced by panic, she tried to get up from that bed, but her wrists were tied to the headboard with thick ropes; observing her hands she noticed them smaller, as well as the rest of her body. The heaviness in his heart increased until he collapsed into the void, after hearing the voice of that woman behind the huge door.

After so many years he still remembered her.

The intense smell of incense in the room was also the same, everything in that room was the same: the small dressing table, the closet, both on the sides of the door; the bathroom, the windows sealed with thick bars, the red canopy that covered the bed of white sheets, her transparent nightgown and the golden ribbon tied around the ankle of her right foot.

The creaking of the door took her by surprise, frightened she curled up on the edge of the bed, the rope prevented her from hugging her little legs. Frightened, she just cried silently waiting for the inevitable, knowing what would happen sent shivers and pain to her lower extremities. 

The footsteps in the room stopped.

-As promised, the brat is waiting for you," announced a high-pitched, squeaky voice that would scare anyone.

The sound of footsteps returned, but disappeared after the door closed. Alba trembled with fear, at the same time crying and pleading inwardly that it was just another nightmare, tuning out the movements of the person who remained in the chamber, until she felt a light caress on her ankle. An intense shiver ran through her body.

-Calm down," said a male voice, "I've come to get you out of this dreadful place.

Alba's heart skipped a beat.

How could she forget that voice? The voice that had been the source of her most terrifying nightmares, the voice that had caused countless nervous breakdowns throughout her short life. It was impossible for him to forget it. Just as it was impossible for him to hear it again.

The shadow that remained at Alba's feet spoke again:

-Although, it ceased to exist long ago?

Large quantities of water gushed from the floor and rocked violently against the legs of the bed, the cold breeze fell on Alba, frightening her. The room disappeared to give way to nothingness, the only thing visible was the lonely ocean and the gray sky with lightning flashing across it. The feeling of being accompanied disappeared, so, plucking up her courage, she raised her head and appreciated the change around her; still with her hands tied, Alba tried to brush against the waves of the sea, like any little one who sees it for the first time, alluding to having achieved her freedom, unfortunately, a pair of hands clung to her legs, pulling them with an overwhelming force.

A shrill scream burst from her lips as her body touched the cold water; she felt multiple knives digging in. The ropes that held her, untied one by one, emphasizing the terror growing inside Alba; the strength in her ankles grew, so she inhaled as much as she could before being submerged in the salty water. Not knowing how to swim, she merely kicked and kicked with what little strength she had left; unfortunately, the pressure on her chest increased, making it clear that she was sinking deeper and deeper. He squeezed his eyelids shut as he noticed that he could no longer hold his breath. His face distorted and unhinged.

Her trapped ankles were released, to be replaced by Alba's fragile neck; the slapping ceased and inevitably she screamed, at the same time she opened her eyes, finding Rafael's face, but with reddish hair and a white shirt open from the chest; the features of her adoptive father were so decomposed that they were frightening to the sight of anyone, his body began to disintegrate, and then turned into dark particles that were embedded in the body of Alba, who began to convulse from the excess of water that entered her body; the burning she experienced in her nostrils and throat were insufferable. With what little strength she had left, she directed her swats at the fake Raphael; however, the latter only smiled at her.

She squeezed her eyelids again, then the discomfort and tremors disappeared. Exalted, she stood up, her chest rising and falling in a frenzy. Her face was soaked, her hair was loose, and she was wearing a white nightgown that only covered her up to her knees; nevertheless, the comforter covered her almost completely.

She wiped the stagnant tears from her eyes, although she tried to regain her composure, it was impossible; her eyes filled with water again and a lump formed in her throat. She felt fragile and uncovered, she feared she would no longer be able to control these emotions that she had kept at bay with so much effort; even so, she told herself that this time she would not be brave, and then burst into tears like a baby seeking its mother's arms. For the first time, after eight long years, she did not hold anything back, she moaned between sobs until she fell asleep again. While everything was happening, Captain Aguilar stood expectantly in a corner of the room, where the candlelight did not reach. As he entered, looking for a finance book, he never imagined witnessing the young woman's most vulnerable stage. It was strange and uncomfortable, but it also made him feel sorry for her.

Youth is often a time of out-of-control, when life beats you down; perhaps she was in for some hard, uncompromising fights that didn't even let her breathe. Her instability could count as proof of that.

He picked up the leather-bound book, then headed for the door, but hearing the young woman's sobs once again stopped him. The distance between them was small, from there he could appreciate part of Alba's face that the comforter did not cover; bushy eyebrows, small nose and full lips, it was a compendium of charm, ruined by the insistent tears that soaked it.

Certainly, Aguilar was used to being surrounded by all kinds of women: shy, bold, hypocritical and, above all, opportunistic. As a child his parents agreed to an arranged marriage with the youngest daughter of the Benegas family, as he grew older he was less convinced of getting married, but he could not oppose his parents either; in the end he decided to enjoy the freedom he had before chaining himself to Irene Benegas. The funny thing was that he didn't need to make an effort to get women to meet him, the tactics they used were so pathetic and false that sometimes he had to force himself to remain serene rather than die of laughter; he still accepted their pretensions. Over time he became a topic of conversation at the famous tea parties that any woman of the nobility organized, becoming the inveterate womanizer of Corneria, in them they boasted of the control they had over him; unfortunately, they did not even imagine that this ace of fragility gave him empowerment, which ended up exciting him. They by themselves did not stimulate him at all, it was the power of their presence to make them act that way. That's why he was puzzled by the new feelings Alba provoked in him with her genuine weakness.

-No more," he whimpered, "No more...".

The movement of her body was fast, if the captain had not reacted in time Alba would be lying on the floor. Half of her body was still on the bed and the other half was held by Aguilar, his huge hand rested on the back of her neck and with the other he held her lower back to reposition her; while he was doing it Alba moved again, but this time she extended her arms trapping Aguilar's waist.

-Please... I don't want to....

The warmth of her breath on his abdomen surprised him. 

Four years without interacting with the opposite sex was enough to make him nervous. As soon as he managed to regulate his emotions, he gave her head small pats; in order to convey calmness and that whatever he was dreaming about would end or change. Gradually the pats turned into caresses and, not long after, Alba loosened her grip, allowing Aguilar to lay her down again. He covered her and wiped her face a little; looking calmer.

Aguilar did not leave, as Alba clung to the white shirt he wore. Surrendered, he made up his mind to stay by her side until her sister came for her first thing in the morning. At first the feeling of discomfort crushed his nerves; however it subsided, being replaced by curiosity, which increased every time Alba wrinkled her brow.

"What are you dreaming about?"

Many questions formed in Aguilar's head, among them if he should wake her up or if the best thing to do was to send for her family; for a man like him uncertainty was his worst enemy and right at that moment it was the only thing vibrating inside him. Engrossed in his ramblings, he did not notice that Alba was beginning to wake up.

The candlelight hit her, preventing her from looking clearly, but that didn't stop her from noticing the silhouette next to her. Her pulse increased and so did her urge to run. Maybe the dreams were an omen, she thought; so she jumped down from the bed. Aguilar came to his senses and did the same as Alba, he stood up.

Alba watched with a mixture of suspicion and fear, while Aguilar watched with singularity. Neither moved. The sapphires met the extravagant ambers. The disparity between their eyes was a parallel about the feelings and emotions they were experiencing; however, the sparse glow in these exposed the emptiness in their hearts that they constantly carried. Lost amidst the deepest openness of every person, they became oblivious to the outside, wrapping themselves in a bubble of intrigue where the existence of the other was the only thing that truly mattered. Two imperfect strangers, tired, scarred and as different as water and fire, yet the similarity in wounds created an adverse effect that unwittingly captivated them.