The illusion was shattered once there was a knock on the door, it was one of Aguilar's subordinates, who said that everything went according to plan and also asked if there was anything else to do, the man in front of her calmly said yes, but that he would tell her first thing in the morning. The firmness in his voice was like the trumpets blown at dawn: imposing and clear. Alba, however, did not flinch. She was petrified once she saw her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Seeing her legs exposed made her stomach spiral down and crash against an imaginary floor. By inertia she covered her mouth, trying to calm the urge to vomit.

She rolled up her nightgown and bent over, covering herself completely.

Aguilar's eyes flooded with surprise. What's wrong with her, he thought. He had never met anyone so eccentric.

With regret he picked up the bed sheet and walked over to her. She looked like a puppy in a storm, shivering uncontrollably.

He wrapped her nimbly and rubbed her arms a little to warm her up. Maybe the weather isn't agreeing with her, Aguilar thought. Once the shivering began to subside he decided to lift her, but the young woman's body contracted and stiffened in a matter of seconds. Confused, he tilted his head to get a better look at her: frowning, small tears clinging to the tear duct, red nose and chubby cheeks, and a lower lip being fiercely bitten. She was refusing to show her fragility a second time. Or maybe you're making her uncomfortable, Aguilar told himself. Let her go and let her know she's safe, he chided himself.

With that in mind he removed his hands. He sat down on the dark, cold tiles. He let out a deep sigh.

-If you want to cry, go ahead. -He said with a blank stare. No one will judge you. We have all cried at least once in our lives and there is no shame in that.

Aguilar looked at her again, finding her almond-shaped eyes already doing so.

The tears that Alba tried to suppress, fell, leaving a wet path down the pair of red cheeks. They both stood there; Aguilar kept silent so as not to make her uncomfortable, and Alba cried again without qualms.

It was the first time someone had said such welcoming words to her.

It was a wave that hit the almost extinguished flames of her heart.

When Alba calmed down Aguilar helped her up and back to bed. He asked her several questions regarding her health, but none were answered, which made him remember his sister's words: she didn't speak. But I did listen to her, he thought. She was blurting out short words at random. Resigned, I'd rather tell her what happened in the dungeons. She said that Captain Almanera was punished for assaulting innocent civilians who have the right to express what they feel, the same happened to the subordinate who accompanied him; Rafael was treated by a doctor, as was Magdalena and Claudia was informed that everyone was fine. Finally he talked about the shock she suffered and why she was in that mansion. Alba listened to him very attentively, nodding each time Aguilar finished a sentence so that she was aware of his interest.

-As soon as the doctor says you are fully recovered, you can return home with your parents and sister," Aguilar explained. If you need anything you can't find in the room," he pointed to the rest of the room, "write it down on a piece of paper on the dresser and give it to the cadet in front of the room.

Alba nodded and, before leaving, Aguilar apologized for everything that had happened, besides introducing himself properly: captain of the royal infantry, Cárcel Aguilar.

The sun's rays streamed through the huge window at the back of the room, illuminating the bed where Alba still slept. She woke up with a frown on her face and her eyes barely open. After tossing and turning in bed for a while, she sat up, finding a pastel-colored dress at the foot of the bed. Alba picked it up and looked at it: sleeveless and low-cut with dropped shoulders, her worst enemies.

Stop being so picky, she told herself, it's just a dress. Of course it was. A dress that leaves shoulders, neck and arms on display. She shook her head. Imagining herself in it sent a shiver down her spine. Calm down, she thought, it'll only be once.

Reluctantly she climbed down from the bed, secured the door and began to change. Suggestive discomfort kept him from pacing near the dressing table. She was already making a great effort wearing the undignified dress.

She wandered through every corner of the elegant room. She had never seen so many books together on the shelf; excitedly, she flipped through the titles in search of an interesting one.

There it was. Chronicles of Maximiliano Cevallos de Salandina. The dark green hardcover with gold lettering gave a mystical tinge. It was the look that caught Alba's eye. She took it off the shelf and went to one of the sofas in front of the bed. She had to wait for Jail and the doctor to return home anyway. Doing nothing would be boring, so it was a nice option to open a book and get lost in the contents. The unexpected thing was that when he opened it everything was scratched.

It was a compendium of almost illegible pages.

Nevertheless, some texts, maps and drawings could be seen. He read and observed them with attention, he almost did not understand, but he enjoyed the reading. The rest of the day he continued reading and rested only when his food was brought to him. At the end she finished four small books.

Numb, she stretched. Then she went back to bed. The sun was beginning to set and drowsiness to take hold of her. How much longer will the captain be, she thought as she rolled herself between the sheets. Staring blankly, she noticed a strange object under the dresser, it looked like just another book with little content. The urge to go for it ceased with the thought of seeing herself in the mirror. Contrary to her own belief, she got up for it and all for the sake of curiosity. She ignored her reflection and picked it up. It was a thin, leather-bound book.

She rolled it back into the cotton cloth.

He opened the book. It appeared to be a set of notes, as it was handmade. The handwriting was familiar, but he couldn't remember from where. The writing went from the breakdown of expenses in the navy, as of the royal infantry, everything was detailed and also pointed out unfavorable situations, of course, given from his point of view. The most repetitive were: 

Attending to the lack of supplies for the cadet sector (navy).

Give more importance to the deteriorated infrastructure (navy).

Correct the lack of morale in the navy.

Navy, Navy, Navy. Everything bad is in the navy and comes from the navy, Alba thought.

She continued to prowl through the sheets with quick reads. Same thing. The rubles and observations. The only ones that changed were the amounts, sometimes they increased and sometimes they didn't. Why do you keep turning pages, she wondered. He didn't have an answer, he just did it because he did. After a while, with clear boredom on his face, he closed it. She reached out to lay it on the wooden bureau; however, as she did so, a piece of paper came loose. Alba's eyes focused on it.

She put the book down and lifted the yellowed sheet, which betrayed its age. She unfolded it and read the following lines:

If someday you return and find me, I assure you with all my being that I will become a prodigious father. You deserve more than love, you deserve the world, little walker.

Alba choked on her saliva. Andarina? she wondered. Impossible!

She couldn't believe what she had just read. And then she remembered. Yes, she saw that letter many times during her childhood; she also remembered the pleasant moments she enjoyed: games, anecdotes, drawings, but, above all, laughter, warm and full of joy. How did you forget, she wondered again. You repress your past so much that even the good times become victims of the pain you still carry, he chided himself. It was true. He was hiding so desperately that he forgot the one person who reached out to him and taught him how pleasant life itself could be. Now, the paltry guilt was beginning to creep up on her.

As she pondered her actions, doubt crept in. Was the letter for her? Well, it bears your nickname, she thought. What if she knew other girls who faced the same thing she did? Why was the note hidden among the pages of a finance book? Why, why, why? But the most important one was: what was that note doing on Della?

The creaking of the handle startled her, so much so that she jumped in place.

-It's me, Cárcel Aguilar," she said in an affable tone.

Alba went to the door and grabbed the handle. Before opening the door, she stared at her hand. She seemed to be in a trance, but she was thinking about what had just happened.

Maybe with Jail's help she could give him answers to his questions. Yes, do it, Alba thought, you lose nothing and you might gain a lot.