"My... god..." I muttered, my legs still trembling slightly as I tried to steady my breathing. The intensity of the moment hadn't fully left me yet, lingering in the way my chest rose and fell.
"Even now... you're still... like an animal," I added, my voice uneven, caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration.
Carla let out a soft laugh, breathless but satisfied, as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I instinctively held her back, my hands resting carefully along her sides as her rounded stomach pressed gently against me—a reminder that grounded everything all at once.
"Well..." she began, her voice low and playful, a hint of mischief returning to her tone, "when you starve a lioness for a long time..."
She trailed off, a small smirk forming on her lips as she rested her head lightly against me, letting the unfinished sentence speak for itself.
"I've been hearing good things about the schools in Kyoto... the city itself is amazing too," Carla suddenly murmured softly, her voice muffled slightly as she spoke into my hair.
Her arms stayed wrapped around me, her warmth lingering as she held me close, the quiet comfort between us settling in after everything.
"That sounds amazing... way better than Tokyo," I replied, my voice low and relaxed, my fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns along her arm.
Kyoto... even just the thought of it felt different. Calmer. More grounded. Not as overwhelming as Tokyo—still big, still full of life, but in a way that didn't feel like it would swallow you whole.
The kind of place where things moved a little slower, where you could actually breathe.
I shifted slightly in her embrace, letting myself sink into the moment as I pictured it more clearly—quiet streets, traditional buildings, something that felt... balanced.
"Yeah..." I added after a moment, almost to myself. "Feels more like home already."
The calmness of the bedroom door was suddenly interrupted by a firm knock. I let out a quiet groan under my breath, already bracing myself—this usually meant something had gone wrong, and knowing her sister was now in charge, it made sense.
"I'll get it..." I muttered, carefully slipping out of bed. The air felt cooler against my skin as I crossed the room, grabbing my robe from the closet and quickly slipping it on.
I tied it shut with a practiced motion, though my body still felt heavy, my legs unsteady as if they hadn't quite recovered yet.
Each step toward the door felt slower than usual, a slight weakness lingering as I reached for the handle. I pulled it open—
Lela stood there, exactly as expected. Upright, composed, and unwavering.
Her rifle rested securely in her hands, held with the same familiarity as always, like it was just another part of her.
Her expression didn't give much away, calm and firm, but her presence alone was enough to tell me something wasn't right.
"Miguel," she said with a small, respectful nod.
I returned it instinctively, still a bit caught off guard by how formal she always sounded. "Yeah?"
"May I speak with Carla?" she asked, her tone calm and measured, almost like she was asking permission from someone far more important than me.
"Uh, yeah... she's just getting changed," I replied, glancing back over my shoulder.
Behind me, Carla was already pulling on a pair of shorts, slipping a shirt over her head as if she'd been expecting this interruption.
She moved quickly but without panic, smoothing the fabric down as she stepped forward, her expression shifting into something more composed.
I turned back to Lela, the tension in the hallway quietly settling in. "Give her a second," I added, stepping slightly to the side, though my eyes flicked between them—something about the timing, and Lela's usual stiffness, made the moment feel heavier than it should have.
"Let's talk in your office..." Lela said, her tone leaving little room for question.
Carla gave a small nod, not even glancing back at me before the two of them disappeared down the hall together, their footsteps fading into the quiet of the house.
I stood there for a second, staring at the empty doorway.
"...Alright. That happened," I muttered under my breath, rubbing the back of my neck as I exhaled. Whatever that was about, it didn't sound small—but it also clearly wasn't something I was meant to be part of.
"I need some milk," I added to myself, more out of habit than anything, already turning away and heading toward the stairs.
The walk down to the first floor helped shake off some of the lingering tension. The house felt alive in its usual way—guards stationed at their posts, quiet conversations echoing faintly through the halls, everything running like it always did.
I passed a couple of them on the way to the kitchen, giving a small nod. "Hola," I said casually.
Each one acknowledged me in their own way—a nod, a short greeting—but I made sure to greet them all. It just felt right. No matter how things looked from the outside, I never liked acting like I was above anyone here.
By the time I reached the kitchen, the earlier moment upstairs already felt distant... but not forgotten.
I opened the fridge and pulled out the jug of chocolate milk—my favorite—before grabbing a glass from the cabinet.
I set everything down on the counter and poured myself a full cup, the rich, dark liquid filling the glass with a slow, steady swirl.
The fridge light faded as I closed the door, leaving the kitchen in its usual soft, quiet calm.
"I wonder what's going on..." I muttered to myself, still thinking about Lela and Carla disappearing down the hallway together.
I took a sip.
The cold, sweet creaminess hit immediately—smooth, comforting, exactly what I needed in a moment like this. It grounded me a little, easing the tension that had been lingering since earlier, even if only for a few seconds.
I leaned lightly against the counter as I drank, letting the quiet of the kitchen settle around me, though my thoughts still drifted upstairs, trying to piece together what kind of conversation I'd just been shut out of.
"Meh... no need to worry... it's Carla after all. She has everything under control," I said quietly, more to reassure myself than anything else.
I took another slow sip of the chocolate milk, letting the familiar taste settle in as I drifted toward the large window in the kitchen.
I stood there for a moment, looking out across the property. The mansion lights reflected faintly on the glass, and beyond it stretched the dark forest—dense, quiet, endless.
Far in the distance, scattered lights from Culiacán flickered like a second sky on the horizon, faint but constant.
It should've felt peaceful.
And in a way, it did.
But there was still that small weight in my chest, the kind that didn't go away just because I tried to ignore it.
"Still though..." I murmured, resting my glass lightly against the counter as I stared out into the night. "I wonder if it's good... or not."
The words hung there in the quiet kitchen, swallowed quickly by the stillness of the house, but not by my thoughts.
——
