Chapter 24
Rebeca is sitting on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, a cup of coffee in her hands. The heat from the porcelain warms her fingers, but it fails to dispel the tension that has settled in her chest since Martina’s birthday party. She has barely slept. The images replay in her head with painful clarity: Martina’s face, ravaged by tears in the middle of the street; the embrace they shared under the streetlight; the confession that fell between them as if they hadn’t committed the same sin.
“I think Julia has been cheating on me too.”
And then came her own reply:
“I know… I saw her the other day.”
Rebeca closes her eyes for a moment and takes a sip of coffee. The bitter liquid runs down her throat, bringing her back to the present with a slight shiver. She doesn’t know what will happen now. The last time she saw Martina was when she walked away toward the doorway of her building after that confession, almost without strength; perhaps even hurt. Rebeca wanted to say something else, to offer to stay with her, to hold her until everything was sorted out. But Martina seemed lost in a place too deep to hear anything, and she hasn’t spoken to her since.
A knock on the door snaps her out of her thoughts. The doorbell rings once. Then again. Rebeca frowns and sets her cupdown on the coffee table. She stands up cautiously, wondering who it could be at this hour. She walks barefoot to the entrance, and when she turns the knob and opens the door, the world seems to stop for a second.
Julia is standing on the landing. Her presence is so unexpected that Rebeca freezes, her hand still on the door and her heart suddenly pounding against her ribs. Julia looks at her with an expression that’s hard to read. She’s wearing a beige coat over dark jeans, and a large cloth bag hangs from her shoulder.
Before Rebeca can react, Julia takes a step forward and enters the apartment without waiting to be invited in. Rebeca closes the door almost on reflex, feeling a knot form in her stomach. For a few seconds, she doesn’t know what to say. The words get stuck between her chest and her throat.
Julia scans the small living room with her eyes, pausing on the details with a distant curiosity, as if she were visiting the home of someone she barely knows.
“Don’t bother trying to hide it,” she says, her voice surprisingly calm, almost kind. “I know everything.”
Rebeca feels her pulse starting to throb in her ears.
“Julia, I…” she tries, but she can’t get any more words out.
Julia raises a hand, cutting her off.
“Really, there’s no need.” She takes a few steps across the room, running her fingers along the back of the sofa. “I suppose I can’t blame Martina for anything when I’ve been doing exactly the same thing.” Julia stops in front of the bookshelf, looking at the spines of the books with a half-smile. “It’s clear I’m no saint, Rebeca. That I, too, have sought what I lack somewhere else.” She turns toward her, and for the first time her gaze seems trulyweary. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t hurt. But I’m also not going to pretend I didn’t understand.”
Rebeca swallows, and the knot in her stomach tightens even more.
“I’ll come pick up my things in a week,” Julia continues matter-of-factly. “I’ve accepted a job offer from a Spanish magazine in London.”
Rebeca looks up at her.
“Are you really leaving?” Rebeca asks, completely incredulous.
Julia nods.
“Yes. I need to start over somewhere where I can clear my head and forget about… this.” She makes a vague gesture with her hand, taking in the living room, Rebeca, and even the shared past that binds them.
She stops in front of her and her fingers begin to fiddle with the strap of her bag.
“I just wanted you to know something else,” she adds. The smile that appears on her lips has a hint of something Rebeca doesn’t like.
And suddenly, an uneasy premonition pierces her chest.
Julia tilts her head slightly.
“I know who leaked that image of the manuscript.”
Rebeca’s heart skips a beat, and the world seems to tilt beneath her feet.
“What?” she whispers.
“Martina wasn’t to blame,” Julia continues with a calmness that begins to unsettle her. “She was just caught up in a stupid war between publishing rivals. Someone from within your own company wanted to sabotage the launch. Martina… she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Rebeca doesn’t respond. She can’t. The words hang suspended in the air as her mind tries to process what she’s just heard. For years she has carried the burden of that betrayal. The memory of how everyone turned on her before the book even saw the light of day. The idea that Martina had betrayed her effort, all her work. Her heartbeat begins to race uncontrollably; it sounds so loud that for a moment it seems like the only thing she can hear. She can barely breathe.
