Page 65 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

I let out a brief, sincere laugh.

“Don’t believe it. I’m two steps away from a nervous breakdown.”

“That’s a lie,” she says, shaking her head tenderly. “You love it. I can see it on your face.”

“A little bit, yes,” I admit, shrugging as I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

We look at each other. And for a second… everything is easy again, natural, just like in the beginning. But it only lasts a second.

We step into the boutique and the temperature difference hits us. Inside, the air conditioning keeps the place cool—too cool after the heat outside, but a welcome relief on the skin. The walls are decorated with light, airy fabrics, and several mannequins display linen outfits in shades of sand and white. Simple. Elegant. Perfect for them.

“You’re here!” Miriam exclaims, appearing from the back with a nervous but radiant smile.

“Right on time,” my father adds, holding her hand with that tenderness you only have when you’re truly in love.

I look at them and can’t help but smile. Because they’re happy. Because you can see it in every gesture, in every glance. And that, quite simply, is beautiful. Very beautiful.

“Well, girls, are you ready?” my father asks, looking at the two of us with that mix of excitement and paternal pride.

“You know we are,” Barbara replies before I can open my mouth. “At this rate, you’re going to leave your daughter with no nails left to bite.”

I lower my gaze, caught red-handed, and feel the blush rise again.

“Hey…” I try to protest.

But I can’t finish the sentence. Because her hand suddenly appears and gently strokes my back, making my body tremble and my skin prickle.

“You always do that when you’re climbing the walls. I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” I reply, pointing at my father with a playful gesture. “You make me nervous without even trying.”

“And on top of that, I’m getting married…” he protests, feigning indignation.

Miriam lets out a bright, infectious laugh, and before we know it, we’re all laughing. It’s a light, familiar moment, one of those that don’t weigh us down, that don’t hurt, and that don’t carry the weight of the past. They simply exist, filling the air with warmth.

“Come on,” Miriam says, still laughing. “Let’s try this on before I regret the whole thing.”

“You still have time,” I joke, winking at her.

“No way,” she replies firmly, taking my father’s hand.

They walk off toward the dressing rooms, and the silence that remains between Barbara and me is different. More intimate. More direct. I sink into one of the plush armchairs by the wall. She does the same, sitting down next to me. For a moment, we say nothing. We just exist. We breathe the same air, share the same space.

“Do you remember?” I say suddenly, without looking directly at her, my voice a little lower. “When we tried on the dresses.”

I feel her tense slightly beside me, as if the memory had touched something deep inside her.

“Yes…”

I turn my head and look at her intently.

“You were unbearable,” I tell her, though my tone is full of affection.

She raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes,” I insist, letting out a soft laugh. “You didn’t like the rhinestones on my dress, or on yours either. You even criticized the dress of the girl in the fitting room next door… You just wouldn’t stop.”