Chapter Text
Prologue
According to the old stories, ancient Greek mythology, to be precise, there was once a time when humans were whole.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Each person was said to have four arms, four legs, and two faces. Two people, fused into one body. Stronger together. Braver together. Complete. That was how the gods made them. And for a while, it worked. Love was easy. Life was simple. Every human carried their soulmate at their side.
But then the gods grew fearful.
Zeus, it’s said, looked down and saw humans growing too powerful. Too content. Too strong.
So, like all fearful rulers, he broke what he couldn’t control.
He split the humans in half.
Since then, or so the story goes, we’ve all been wandering. Searching. Restless. Longing for the other half we once held in our arms.
For those who believe it, the story explains everything.
Why we crave connection.
Why love feels like coming home.
Why, sometimes, you can look at a stranger and feel something shift beneath your skin.
In Plato’s Symposium, the myth is summarised like this:
"Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole… and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him."
A beautiful idea, isn’t it?
But here’s the problem.
Plato didn’t say those words.
They’re often credited to him, but they belong to Aristophanes, a playwright. A romantic. A believer in happy endings.
Plato, in truth, thought the idea foolish.
He believed love wasn’t about finding a missing half.
Love, he argued, was about choice. Effort. Time.
So, which version is true?
That, perhaps, depends on who’s telling the story.
Because not every path leads where you expect.
Chapter Text
Chapter One - Marta
“Three, two, one… happy birthday!” the room cheered as the clock in the sitting room struck midnight.
Andrés, the youngest of the De la Reina family, was eighteen.
“Happy birthday, little brother,” Marta said, pulling him into a hug and planting a kiss on his cheek as close family gathered around, offering their well wishes.
“Thank you,” Andrés replied with a grin, moving around the room until he reached his girlfriend, Begoña.
The air shifted. The room seemed to hold its breath as the pair embraced, then simultaneously looked down at the inside of their left arms.
There it was. An intertwined A & B.
They were soulmates.
Begoña shrieked, and Andrés lifted her effortlessly, spinning her around the room as everyone erupted in cheers.
Marta smiled softly, raising her glass in a quiet toast to the couple. She was happy for her brother, truly.
A gentle brush at her side drew her attention. Her mother passed by with a kind wink, making her way towards her youngest son. Marta returned the gesture with a small smile, though she couldn’t help but think of her own eighteenth birthday, and how very different it had been.
---
A soft knock pulled Marta from her thoughts, from the notes scattered across her desk.
“Come in,” she called, surprised, she thought everyone else asleep. Her expression softened when her mother appeared, carrying a small plate with a single Swiss bun and a candle.
“I thought you were in bed,” Marta whispered.
“No, no.” Catalina smiled, settling herself at the end of Marta’s bed. “Come on, leave that for now.” She waved towards the desk. “I thought we could celebrate. Just us girls.”
Marta smiled, glancing at the clock: 11:58pm. Two minutes to midnight. Two minutes until she turned eighteen. “Just the one?” she teased, nodding to the solitary bun on the plate.
“It’s late, darling. You can have the others tomorrow,” her mother said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Marta should have been excited. Eighteen meant the possibility of a soulmate mark. But unlike her friends, she wasn’t holding her breath. Soulmate marks weren’t common in her family. Her parents both had theirs, but her older brother, Jesús, had turned eighteen two years earlier, and never received one. His girlfriend had. Her initials matched him. Marta sometimes wondered if it might be the same for her.
Though, she had joked once, it was debatable whether Jesús had a soul to begin with.
“Three, two, one...” Catalina whispered, checking her watch. “Happy birthday, my darling girl.” She kissed Marta’s cheek and lit the candle with a flourish. Marta blew it out, rolling her eyes, but smiling. Together, mother and daughter shared the sweet treat in the quiet of the night.
Catalina didn’t ask to check Marta’s arm. She told her, gently, that it didn’t matter, not more than celebrating her daughter’s birthday.
Marta hadn’t looked either. Not at first.
She cleared her desk, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got ready for bed. Only in the quiet darkness, lit only by moonlight slipping through the curtains, did she finally take a breath and pull her left arm free from her sleep shirt.
There was nothing.
---
“The curse is broken,” Jesús said dryly, shaking Andrés’ hand with the enthusiasm of a man greeting a stranger.
Marta watched from the edge of the room as Jesús’ wife, Clotilde, softened the moment with her usual grace, hugging both Begoña and Andrés, her smile warm but her eyes, Marta thought, slightly sad.
Their old theory, that perhaps the mark skipped a generation, was officially disproven. Andrés had received his.
“I just don’t think I’ll get one,” Marta had told her mother one evening in the garden, a few months before her eighteenth birthday. “Jesús didn’t. I don’t think I will either.”
“You can’t know that, darling,” her mother had replied softly, pruning her roses. “You know it’s not an exact science. And it doesn’t always come right away.”
“But you and Father have yours,” Marta argued.
Catalina nodded. “True. But tell me, do you think any less of your Aunt Digna and Uncle Gervasio?”
Marta had picked at the hem of her blouse, reluctant to answer. “No.”
“There you go then.” Her mother had smiled, returning to her plants, leaving Marta to turn the thought over in her mind.
After all, her Aunt Digna had a mark, but her husband Gervasio never had, and they had been happily married for decades, with three children.
---
Now, as Marta moved between the kitchen and living room, clearing glasses and plates, she watched Andrés and Begoña. Watched their little bubble of happiness and love.
Jesús and Clotilde had already left. And again, Marta couldn’t help but think of her brother, still unmarked at twenty-five. And herself, at twenty-three, her arm still bare.
She stepped into the back garden, letting the cool night air clear her head, and her thoughts.
Soulmates.
Marta shook her head softly.
A concept that sounded so romantic. Stories written about it, songs sung, endless films where soulmates met and the world fell into place. Some versions even claimed people only saw in colour once they met their other half. Or that your first words to each other were written on your skin. She almost laughed. If only it were that simple.
That wasn’t how it worked.
In reality, when the younger one of a potential pair turned eighteen, both people received their mark. Great, if like Andrés and Begoña, you were already together, and your marks matched. But that wasn’t guaranteed.
Statistically, less than two-thirds of people ever found a true match. The last study she read said only 60% of people claimed to be with the person their mark matched. And that was self-reported.
The system, Marta thought bitterly, was glitchy at best.
Yet it was treated like a law of nature. People put their lives on hold, refusing to start relationships until they turned eighteen, waiting to see whose initials would appear on their skin. Apps were everywhere now, put in your initials, the date your mark arrived, upload a few photos, and you could scroll potential matches like it was a dating site.
Romantic, wasn’t it?
In the past, maybe it had felt simpler. But now? The more they understood, the less people seemed to believe in it. Soulmate marks were becoming taboo, even inconvenient. There were people who got a mark but never met their supposed match. Others never got a mark at all.
The Unmarked.
Not a flattering term, Marta thought grimly. It was believed that, because marks didn’t appear until the younger person turned eighteen, it might just be a delay. Logical enough. But then there were people who lived their entire lives and never received a mark.
Matching rates had been falling for decades.
And it wasn’t just the unmarked. Some people rejected the person their mark led them to. Claimed they had been mismatched or argued they had found more than one potential soulmate. Messy, but arguably better than the alternative: places where marks were treated as binding, where people felt trapped in relationships they didn’t want, just because their skin said they should.
And worse, the stories of people using the soulmate system as leverage. Knowing their partner felt unable to leave, they used the mark as permission to be cruel, controlling, even abusive.
After all, who would leave their soulmate?
Marta rubbed her bare arm absently.
She wasn’t sure what was worse: never getting a mark at all or getting one and wishing she hadn’t.
--
“Happy birthday, darling,” her mother said softly, a familiar ritual now. Since that first midnight years ago, it had become their tradition, a quiet celebration, just the two of them, sharing a small snack in the middle of the night.
“Thanks, Mum,” Marta replied with a smile, blowing out the candle on her bun as they settled on her bed together.
Now twenty, the idea of ever getting her mark had long drifted to the back of Marta’s mind. She didn’t waste energy on it anymore. Her focus was her future, her studies, her career. Soulmates, marks… those were things she couldn’t control. Her life? That she could. And she would.
She was leaving at the end of the week, heading abroad for a year as part of her university degree. She wanted to spend her birthday at home, to have one more quiet night with her family before everything changed.
Of course, eventually, the conversation turned to marks. It always did, with her mother.
“And how’s Luz?” Catalina asked gently. Luz, Marta’s closest friend, had received her mark just over a month ago. The problem? Her long-term boyfriend hadn’t. Their relationship had been fraying ever since.
“She’s okay,” Marta answered softly. “She’s been speaking to people in the same situation.”
Her mother hummed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You’re all still so young. It’ll work out in the end. You’ll see.”
Marta hesitated. And then, in a voice so quiet it barely felt real, she asked the question she carried deep inside. “And me?”
Her mother glanced at her, squeezing her shoulder.
“I think you’re perfect exactly as you are,” Catalina said simply. “And, honestly? I think you’re lucky.”
Marta let out a quiet snort of disbelief. “Lucky? How do you think so?”
Catalina smiled softly, running her hand through Marta’s hair, smoothing it back like she had done since she was little. “You have the freedom to love whoever you choose. No marks. No rules. No expectations. You’re not waiting for anyone. You get to decide, my girl.”
She cupped Marta’s cheek, her voice warm and certain. “You’re so headstrong, even fate couldn’t decide for you. You want to choose for yourself.”
Marta laughed despite herself, leaning into the safe, familiar comfort of her mother’s shoulder.
“Do you really think so?” she whispered.
“Of course I do.”
Marta paused, the old fear still flickering somewhere inside. “And… what if, someday, I get a mark? What then?”
Her mother didn’t hesitate. “Nothing changes.”
Marta looked up, surprised.
Catalina smiled down at her, kissing her forehead gently. “If you get a mark, that doesn’t mean you’re tied to anyone. Not these days. It’s your choice, Marta. Always. You’re free to love whoever you want, whenever you’re ready. And whatever you choose, we’ll be right here, supporting you.”
Marta closed her eyes, letting the words settle like a blanket around her heart.
--
And that’s exactly what she did.
She let it go.
She threw herself into university, studying fashion and design. Her year abroad had opened doors she’d never even dreamed of, working with major magazines, international brands, travelling more than she had planned.
Now, at twenty-three, she was on the brink of something even bigger. She had recently gone into partnership to launch her own company. Her career was her soulmate. She had plenty of friends, her career was taking off, and she didn’t have to answer to anyone. She could come and go as she pleased, meet up with whoever she wanted. Life was good.
That wasn’t to say she didn’t have relationships. She did.
She would even admit to using one of the apps. Not the usual ones. This one was for people like her, the unmarked. No strings, no expectations, no drama. Just a way to meet people without the constant question hanging between them: Are you marked? Are you my one?
Of course, she still met people the old-fashioned way too. But sometimes, it was easier. Easier to swipe, meet up, and have a little fun, without someone subtly glancing at her left arm, searching for the initials that weren’t there.
Though, even the unmarked apps weren’t foolproof. She had more than one occasion where her casual hook-up had turned hopeful, where the other person revealed a mark with an M, their eyes flickering with something more than attraction, something desperate, searching.
She hated that moment.
The realisation in their eyes. The unspoken question: Could you be mine?
And her answer, always unspoken but clear. No.
She wasn’t anyone’s.
Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
----
“Are you staying, Marta?”
Marta glanced back from the doorway, where she had been watching the garden in silence. Her father’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She stepped inside, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. “No, I’m heading off soon,” she said, placing her empty glass in the sink. “I’ve got a few things to finalise for a meeting tomorrow, so I’d rather be at home.” She leaned against the counter, settling into a familiar rhythm with him.
“Things moving forward?”
He asked it carefully. He still wasn’t thrilled about her career choice, not like he was with Jesús, who’d joined the family business. But even so, he was proud of what she’d built on her own.
Marta gave a small, noncommittal sound. “Slower than I’d like. But I’ll get there.” She smiled, the kind that said she meant it.
“I’ve no doubt, daughter.”
She gathered her things, pressing a quick kiss to her father’s cheek just as her phone buzzed.
Alicia | 00:30
I’m finally free. You’ve got wine, right?
Marta smiled.
Marta | 00:33
The doubt offends. Leaving now. See you soon.
She said her goodbyes to the rest of the family, and a few of Andrés’ friends, who were still lingering over the food and drinks, and headed for her car. Her apartment in Madrid wasn’t far.
--
Soon, she pulled into her usual spot, took the lift to the top floor, and let herself in. She moved quickly: jacket off, bottle of wine opened to breathe, and a change into something more comfortable.
Just as the intercom buzzed.
“Hello,” Marta greeted with a smile, letting Alicia in. They exchanged a kiss on the cheek, easy and familiar.
They had met at a show a years ago, Alicia was modelling; Marta was part of the design team. And somehow, despite the chaos of the fashion world, they had clicked.
“God, I can’t take any more of today. And I’m starving,” Alicia groaned, already toeing off her heels.
Marta laughed softly, flipping through some design mock-ups scattered across her kitchen island. “There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself.”
A memory flickered -
Their first meeting. Backstage at a show. Marta had been reviewing the set-up when a tall woman, all wavy dark hair and sharp green eyes, had appeared beside her, eyeing the catering trolley like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Hello,” Marta had said, gesturing towards the snacks.
“Cover for me.” The woman had swiped a small, iced cake and eaten it in two bites, sighing with relief. “Oh, that’s good. I’m starving”
“If you’re trying to be subtle, you might want to be quieter about it.”
The woman had grinned, unapologetic, holding a piece of chocolate. “Hey, new girl, don’t judge.”
“I’m Alicia,” she added, wiping her fingers discreetly on the tablecloth before offering a handshake.
“Marta,” she replied, laughing as she took it. “Nice to meet you.”
Minutes later, someone had called Alicia’s name from across the set. She flashed Marta a smile, shouted something back to the photographer, and transformed from a hungry woman sneaking cake to a model everyone recognised, stepping into the lights like she belonged there.
After the shoot, the team had gone for drinks. Marta hadn’t expected Alicia to show.
“I didn’t think you would come,” she admitted when Alicia slid onto the stool beside her and stole a few of her fries without asking.
“Why not?”
Marta had shrugged. “Models usually don’t. We’re just the help, remember?”
Alicia had laughed. “I’m not like other models.”
“I can see that.”
Over time, that strange, unexpected friendship had settled into something solid. In the fashion world, having a friend, someone to look out for you, meant everything.
And then, one night, after a closing party, Marta had found herself changing in Alicia’s temporary loft when Alicia caught her off guard.
“You’re like me,” Alicia said suddenly, standing by the mirror fixing her makeup.
Marta frowned. “What do you mean?”
Alicia turned, crossed the room, and held out her left arm. Bare.
Then she nodded towards Marta’s, which, thanks to the outfit she was wearing, was exposed too. Marta glanced down at her own skin. She always covered it, but not tonight.
“I thought they covered them up,” Marta said quietly, glancing at Alicia’s unmarked arm.
“Oh, they do,” Alicia said with a dry laugh. “If you’ve got a mark, you hide it. Doesn’t exactly fit the fantasy of the unattainable model celebrity to have the same soul mark as everyone else, does it? But me?” She shrugged. “Nothing to cover.” She had gone back to her makeup like it was nothing.
And Marta, for the first time in years, had smiled. For the first time, she wasn’t the only one.
She wasn’t alone.
---
“How’d it go?” Alicia asked, settling onto a stool at the kitchen island, sipping her wine as she picked at some cheese and olives she raided from Marta’s fridge.
Marta moved to stand across from her, lazily snagging a piece of cheese before taking a sip of her own wine. “Soulmates,” she said with a wry smile and a shrug.
Alicia nodded, like she expected that answer. “Overrated.”
Marta laughed, properly this time, as Alicia watched her over the rim of her glass, eyes softer.
“Everything okay?” Alicia asked, as she took in Marta’s tired expression.
Marta gave a resigned little shrug. “Yeah. Usual stuff.” She gestured vaguely towards the sketchpads and flipcharts cluttering the end of the counter. “Nothing I can’t get under control.”
Alicia set her glass down, her expression shifting. “Well,” she said, sliding off the stool, “I think I know a way to help you relax.”
“Oh yeah?” Marta asked, that flicker of anticipation already humming in her veins.
Alicia smirked, stealing Marta’s wine for herself. “I could do that thing with my mouth you like.” She said it casually, as if discussing the weather, standing in front of Marta now with one hand on her hip, teasing glint in her eyes.
Marta pretended to think about it, eyes flicking up as if weighing her options, before reaching out and curling her fingers around Alicia’s neck, pulling her in.
Their kiss was easy. Familiar. The kind that didn’t need to mean anything more than it was: two friends, no pressure, no complications, just taking comfort in each other when the world felt too heavy.
----
Their friendship had grown over the years. Solid. Comfortable. But after a string of disastrous dates, for both of them, it shifted. Or at least, Alicia tried to shift it.
One night, fuelled by too much beer and questionable decision-making, Alicia had leaned back on Marta’s sofa and said, entirely seriously, “We should fuck.”
Marta almost choked on her drink. “Are you crazy?” she spluttered, shoving Alicia’s shoulder as the other woman laughed.
“No, think about it, it makes sense.” Alicia’s drunk logic flowed with alarming confidence. “We’re friends, right? And that’s not going to change. But who says we can’t be friends… with benefits?”
Marta snorted. “Yeah. Because that always works out, genius.”
“I’m serious.” Alicia leaned in conspiratorially, waggling her eyebrows. “We’re friends. We trust each other. And we’ve both had enough weirdos to last us a lifetime. Why not help each other out with, you know... carnal needs.”
Marta shook her head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m practical,” Alicia corrected, picking up her beer. “Be honest, when was the last time you got laid?”
Marta hesitated, picking at the label on her bottle. “Not that long...”
“Bullshit.” Alicia grinned. “If you have to think about it, it’s been too long.”
Marta just shook her head again, but Alicia wasn’t done.
“What?” Alicia laughed. “You’re hot. I’m hot.” She gestured between them. “Just a favour between friends.”
And then, Alicia stood. Marta watched in disbelief as she crossed the room, settling herself without hesitation onto Marta’s lap.
“What are you doing?” Marta asked, her voice shaky with laughter, and something else, as Alicia slid her hands slowly up her arms and onto her shoulders.
“This is a bad idea,” Marta whispered, though her body was already betraying her.
“If it’s a disaster,” Alicia murmured, face inches from hers, “we’ll blame the beer.” She grinned. “But fair warning… I’m very good.”
Marta laughed, then faltered. Her heart was racing. It had been too long. She let out a resigned breath, shaking her head fondly, and slid her hands up to Alicia’s neck.
“Your funeral,” she said softly.
Alicia smiled knowing she had won. Then she kissed her.
--
The next morning? Nothing changed.
“I’m making pancakes,” Alicia announced cheerfully, stretching as she padded barefoot into Marta’s kitchen. “I’m starving.” She paused to wink. “You worked up my appetite.”
Marta laughed but hesitated. “So… things are okay?” In the cold light of morning, she didn’t want to lose what they had.
Alicia glanced at her, deadpan. “Why wouldn’t they be? I’m nice and relaxed.” She grinned, flipping a pancake. “I’m telling you, Marta. We should totally take advantage of this.”
Marta blinked. “In what way?”
“This.” Alicia gestured between them with the spatula. “Emergency hookups. No pressure. No weirdness. Just… when we need to take the edge off.”
“I’m not sure this is a great idea,” Marta said, dodging a flying strawberry as Alicia tossed one into her mouth mid-sentence.
“I’m not saying we’re dating or going to fall in love.” Alicia smirked.
Marta laughed and said deadpan, “Absolutely not, your lack of table manners is a dealbreaker.”
Alicia laughed as she gave her the middle finger.
“Seriously,” Alicia continued, “whenever we’re both in the mood, and the other person’s up for it, great. If not, no big deal. Friends first. Just an option.”
Marta considered it, sipping her coffee. “And what if one of us meets someone?”
Alicia shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m not a one-woman... or one-man girl. That’s not changing. You know that.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen my travel schedule.” She added with a wink.
“Ah, so I’m just another name on the list,” Marta teased, though her tone was light.
Alicia blinked, then grinned. “Don’t you worry darling, you’re top tier.”
Marta laughed, shaking her head. But, honestly… Alicia was right. Last night hadn’t been awkward. They were fine. Maybe this could work.
“I get it now. I rocked your world, didn’t I?” Marta said, smirking.
“Yeah, yeah.” Alicia sipped her coffee. “I know you liked that trick I did with my tongue.”
Marta choked on her drink, coughing violently as Alicia burst out laughing.
“See?” Alicia grinned. “Told you I was good.”
And Marta, wiping her face, couldn’t help but laugh too. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.
--
Marta smiled into the kiss as it deepened, the familiar taste of Alicia pushing away the static in her head as they stumbled towards the bedroom. Over the years, they had kept their pact: emergency hookups when needed. And it worked.
There had been breaks, of course. Times when Alicia was in a semi-serious relationship, or when Marta was seeing someone herself, the rule was simple: if either of them was involved, the arrangement paused, no questions asked. But the option had always been there. A safety net of sorts. Comfort, release, no strings attached. Just friendship... with perks.
Tonight, after a brutal week and knowing Alicia would be gone again in a few days, Marta saw no reason not to take advantage of both: good conversation and, let’s be honest, good sex.
They moved through the apartment with a familiar rhythm, Alicia leading this time, pinning Marta gently against the bedroom door, her thigh sliding between Marta’s legs just right, pulling a gasp from both their mouths. Clothes came off piece by piece, some removed solo, some tugged free by impatient hands until Alicia gave Marta a playful shove onto the bed, making her bounce with a laugh before Alicia climbed over her.
Heat coiled between them quickly. Alicia’s hand slipped between Marta’s thighs, cupping her through her underwear and grinning as Marta gasped at the contact.
“Wow,” Alicia teased, licking slowly up Marta’s chin. “Are you happy to see me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Marta shot back, but there was affection in her voice as she dragged Alicia into a kiss, her hands working at Alicia’s bra until it fell away.
“It’s been a while,” Marta admitted with a groan as Alicia’s hand pressed more firmly.
“This won’t take long, then.” Alicia grinned. “Try to hold on.”
Her mouth moved lower, lips brushing Marta’s skin, teasing down her neck as her fingers slipped under the waistband of Marta’s underwear. Marta’s body responded automatically, hips rocking forward, her breath coming faster, hand tangling in Alicia’s hair as her mouth found her breast and her fingers worked between her legs.
Marta whimpered when Alicia bit down, toes curling at the edge of pain and pleasure, then moaned when that clever mouth moved lower, following the path of her fingers with intent.
Alicia glanced up once, watching Marta’s body trembling, flushed and open to her, moving with her in perfect rhythm. She let her tongue flick out, teasing first, then deliberate, knowing exactly how to push Marta closer to the edge.
Marta’s hand moved down, pressing lightly against the back of Alicia’s head, not to guide, but to ground herself, body twitching now, right on the brink.
Alicia paused for the briefest second. She thought she saw something, a shadow across Marta’s skin. But Marta’s thighs tightened around her head, her body shaking, and Alicia focused, doubling her efforts until Marta broke with a sharp cry, her orgasm hitting hard and fast.
Marta collapsed back against the sheets, breathless, laughing softly as Alicia slid up beside her, grinning, lips swollen and wet, her eyes bright.
“I needed that,” Marta said between gasps, laughter still in her voice.
“At your service, ma’am,” Alicia winked, brushing hair from Marta’s forehead, only to yelp as Marta flipped them, straddling her to return the favour.
Alicia laughed, pinned beneath her friend, but the sound died abruptly in her throat.
Because she saw it.
Marta didn’t notice at first. She leaned down to kiss her, hand sliding over Alicia’s chest, then paused when the kiss wasn’t returned.
“What’s wrong?” Marta frowned, searching Alicia’s face for an answer. “Ali?” Her voice cracked slightly, concern creeping in.
Alicia didn’t speak. She just stared.
Marta followed her gaze… down. And saw.
Her left arm.
“No,” Marta whispered. She pulled back, eyes wide, shaking her head. “No…”
But the intertwined initials were there, clear as day.
She was marked.
Chapter Text
Chapter Two - Fina
“The door stays open, Serafina,” Adela said pointedly, her voice lightened by a wry smile as she glanced into the bedroom. She shook her head as Fina predictably rolled her eyes.
“Of course,” came another voice, softer, from the doorway as Esther stepped into view, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Adela caught sight of her and grinned. “Listen to your girlfriend,” she said, teasing gently, before giving them both a knowing wink and pulling the door mostly shut, though not quite.
Esther crossed the room to where Fina sat on the bed, perching beside her with a smile. She reached for Fina’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Hey,” she said softly, catching the grumpy look aimed at the door. “They’re letting me stay over. Don’t push it.”
Fina huffed but nodded, her smile returning as Esther’s fingers squeezed hers.
Her eyes flicked to the clock. 11:45pm. Fifteen minutes until her eighteenth birthday. And she was exactly where she wanted to be, with who she wanted to be with. Her soulmate. She was sure of it. They both were.
They’d been together almost two years now. Esther had moved to Toledo and joined Fina’s school a year ago. She was older by a year, but it hadn’t mattered. From the moment they met, something had shifted.
--
“Girls,” Carmen’s voice rang out across the school canteen in Fina’s memory. “This is Esther, she’s just moved here, so be nice,” Carmen added with a laugh, steering Esther towards their usual table. “Esther, this is Claudia. And Fina.”
Fina had looked up from her lunch then and met Esther’s blue eyes for the first time.
The lore said when you met your soulmate you didn’t feel like anything physical. No spark. No sign. No sudden rush of colour or noise. But Fina would always say otherwise. The moment their eyes met, she’d felt it. She knew.
--
“I’m nervous all of a sudden,” Esther whispered, pulling Fina back to the present as she played absently with her fingers. “Aren’t you?”
Fina shook her head and tugged Esther gently into her lap, not caring if her mother happened to glance in. She cradled Esther’s face in her hands, her voice steady. “Not at all.”
Esther’s anxious smile softened.
“Very, very soon, I’m going to be eighteen,” Fina teased, grinning when Esther laughed like this was new information. “And then our bond is going to activate. My mark is going to appear…” She ran her fingertip lightly over the inside of Esther’s left arm. “And yours too.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Esther’s voice dropped, small and uncertain.
Fina caught her chin gently, coaxing her to meet her gaze. “And what? You think it’s just random that your mark didn’t show up when you turned eighteen?”
Esther hesitated.
“No,” Fina said, smiling as she saw the doubt fade from Esther’s expression. “You’re just waiting for me.”
“Nothing unusual there,” Esther joked, making them both laugh softly.
Fina pressed their foreheads together, then their lips, glancing once more towards the clock.
---
“Ay, Fina’s going to be late,” Claudia muttered, glancing at her phone as the rest of the group shifted impatiently at the meeting spot.
“This girl, I swear,” Carmen sighed, checking her watch. “We’re going to miss kick-off at this rate.”
They had all agreed to meet up before heading to the final high school football game, but predictably, Fina was running behind.
“Go on ahead. I’ll wait for her,” Esther said easily, smiling as she stepped back.
“No, no…” Carmen hesitated, torn.
“Seriously,” Esther laughed. “Go. I’ve got zero interest in watching men in shorts chasing a ball. I’ll wait for Fina, and we’ll catch you up.”
Claudia looked at Carmen, then shrugged. “She’s got a point.”
That settled it, the girls headed off, leaving Esther behind.
Half an hour later, Fina arrived at the café, frowning as she looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“They went on ahead,” Esther said softly, that familiar smile tugging at her lips, the one she only seemed to give Fina. “I said we’d catch them up.”
Fina rolled her eyes and dropped into the seat across from her. “It’s just a bunch of sweaty guys chasing a ball,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t get it.”
Esther laughed, warm and genuine. “That’s pretty much exactly what I said.”
For a moment, their eyes met and held. Just a beat longer than usual. There hadn’t been many times it was just the two of them, but lately… something felt different. The glances that lingered. The private smiles. Like something neither of them wanted to name yet, but both could feel.
Esther hesitated, then tilted her head. “Do you want to do something more interesting? Just us?”
Fina’s grin was instant. “Absolutely.”
And just like that, they left together. Neither of them made it to the football game that night, but something else began between them instead.
---
And that had been it.
Almost two years ago, what they now called their unofficial-official first date had started something that never really stopped. They had been together ever since.
It hadn’t exactly been a surprise to Adela and Isidro when Fina introduced Esther as her girlfriend. Fina’s parents had suspected for years that their daughter wouldn’t be bringing home a boyfriend. And Fina herself had known since she was young, she was a lesbian, simple as that. The only real complication was that Toledo wasn’t exactly overflowing with other girls like her.
Now, they lay curled up on Fina’s bed, Esther’s head resting on her shoulder as they talked quietly about the week ahead. Esther had started her internship at the local newspaper after graduating last year, while Fina had six months left before she finished school. Their plan was already in place: Madrid University. Fina would study art and photography, and Esther, international journalism. Dorm rooms for the first year, then maybe a small apartment after that. They wanted to see the world, Fina capturing it through her lens, Esther writing it into stories.
Fina shifted, glancing at the clock. Two minutes to midnight.
Esther followed her gaze and smiled, sitting up slightly until she was straddling Fina’s lap. She cupped Fina’s cheeks, drawing her close, their mouths brushing in soft kisses. Esther’s fingers threaded into Fina’s hair as their kisses deepened, lips moving slowly but insistently, until Fina’s watch gave a sharp beep.
“Happy birthday, my love,” Esther whispered, her forehead resting against Fina’s.
Fina grinned, wide and bright, and caught her lips again for another kiss before pulling back to catch her breath. They both laughed softly, the moment warm, intimate, perfect.
Until their eyes dropped to their arms.
Both their left arms were bare. T-shirt sleeves pushed back. Nothing.
Fina’s smile faltered. She looked at her own skin, then Esther’s. Blank. She tapped both their arms lightly, forcing a laugh. “Hello? Is this thing on?”
But something tightened in her chest.
Esther’s smile had vanished. She looked from her arm to Fina’s, her breath catching. “It’s not… we’re not…”
“No,” Fina cut in quickly, her voice sharp with panic. She cupped Esther’s face, shaking her head. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”
Esther’s eyes shone, but she stayed silent.
“There’s a reason for this. A logical explanation.” Fina hated how shaky her own voice sounded, but she pushed on. “Maybe it doesn’t activate at midnight.”
Esther gave a hollow scoff and tried to slide off Fina’s lap, but Fina held her steady.
“I’m serious.” She grabbed the folded documents from her nightstand, the birth certificate she’d asked Adela for earlier that day. “I was born at 3:36 a.m., look”
She pointed at the time as if it held answers.
“It’s not time yet,” Fina said firmly, more to herself than to Esther. “It’s not activated yet.”
She cupped Esther’s face again, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Okay? It’s just not time yet.”
Esther’s voice cracked. “What if it never is?”
Fina swallowed hard, then kissed her gently. “It will be.”
Esther nodded, but Fina could feel the tension in her shoulders.
“Come on,” Fina whispered. “Let’s sleep. You’ll see. In the morning, you’ll wake up, and it’ll be there. You’ll be officially all mine.”
Esther managed a small smile as she stood, glancing over her shoulder. “I thought I already was.”
She gave a wink, but her voice was thinner now, as she disappeared into the bathroom.
Fina heard her phone vibrate from somewhere near the bed. No doubt it was her friends, birthday wishes, messages confirming what everyone already assumed: she and Esther were soulmates.
She didn’t bother checking.
Instead, she stood at the dresser at the side of the bed, the birth certificate still in her hands, her eyes scanning the details she already knew by heart. 3:36 a.m. She stared at the time as if willing it to explain something. Anything.
Then she heard it.
A sudden cry of joy. Quick, running footsteps.
Before her mind could catch up, there was a thud against her back as Esther’s arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, her face burying into the crook of Fina’s neck.
“I knew it!” Esther’s voice was muffled but elated, breathless against her skin. “I knew you were meant for me.”
Fina laughed in surprise, twisting around just as Esther pulled her into a kiss, urgent and tearful.
When they finally broke apart, Fina’s gaze dropped automatically to Esther’s arm. And there it was.
“My watch must be fast,” she whispered, her voice shaking as her thumb brushed over the soulmate mark etched into Esther’s skin. Stylised, elegant: E & S. Right where it should be.
Her heart clenched so tightly it felt like it might burst. She let out a choked sob of relief and joy, pulling Esther back into her arms.
But Esther didn’t move.
Fina felt the resistance immediately, confusion cutting through her joy. “Love?” she asked softly, pulling back to meet Esther’s eyes, and froze.
Esther was staring, wide-eyed and trembling, not at Fina’s face, but at her arm.
Fina followed her gaze.
And her entire world shifted.
She was marked.
But not with an E.
Another letter sat burned into her skin along with her own initial an elegant and unmistakable: M.
Fina’s breath hitched. She stared at it like it didn’t belong to her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. She reached instinctively for Esther’s hand but felt her pull away.
“I think it’s clear,” Esther said, voice breaking. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she clutched her own marked arm like it hurt. “You might be my soulmate… but I’m not yours.”
“Esther-” Fina’s voice cracked as she tried to reach for her again, but Esther stepped back, shaking her head.
“I need… I need some time.” Her voice was thin, cracked, as she grabbed her bag, dodging Fina’s attempts to stop her.
“Please, Esther! Please!” Fina cried out, chasing her down the hall. She reached the top of the stairs just in time to see Esther disappear, the front door slamming behind her, the echo reverberating through the silence she left behind.
“What the hell?” Isidro’s voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs, his footsteps following quickly as he looked up to find Fina frozen at the top, crumpled in on herself, one hand pressed hard over her arm as if she could smother the mark itself.
“Fina?” Adela’s voice came softly from behind, stepping out of her bedroom, her brow creased in concern. She crossed the hallway quickly, her chest tightening as she saw her daughter’s tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong?”
Fina tried to shake her head but choked on a sob. Adela gently turned her to face her.
“It’s n-not…” Fina hiccupped, her breathing ragged. “It’s not the same.”
She pulled her hand away, showing her mother the mark burned into her skin.
Adela’s breath caught. “Oh, darling…”
She wrapped Fina in her arms as her daughter collapsed against her, sobbing into her chest.
“I knew this would happen.”
Both Adela and Fina stiffened at the sound of Isidro’s voice from below.
“What?” Adela snapped instinctively.
“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that!” Isidro protested, hands raised as he came up a few steps, baffled. “Hija, these things… they happen sometimes.”
Fina’s sobs only grew louder.
“You’re sleeping in her room tonight,” Adela said flatly over Fina’s shoulder, pointing a warning finger at him. Without another word, she led Fina gently towards her bedroom, leaving Isidro standing helpless on the stairs.
“…What did I do?” he whispered to the empty hall.
---
Adela settled herself onto her bed, pulling Fina down with her until her daughter’s head rested against her shoulder, her hand stroking slowly through Fina’s hair.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Deep breaths. Tell me what happened.”
Fina clung to her for a moment longer before her voice broke out in a whisper. “What does it mean, Mama? Esther… she got a mark. Our initials. But I… I got someone else.”
Adela’s hand paused for a moment before moving again. Her voice stayed calm, soft. “It means whatever you choose to let it mean.”
Fina frowned, confused. “What?”
“Let me ask you something,” Adela said gently. “If Esther got her mark tonight and you got nothing, what would you have done?”
“I’d have stayed. Of course I would. I love her, Mama.” Her voice cracked.
“And if it was the other way around? If you got yours but Esther didn’t… or hers showed someone else’s initials instead?”
Fina hesitated. “Well… if she got nothing, that wouldn’t mean she didn’t love me.”
“And if she got someone else’s mark?” her mother pressed softly. “Would that mean she loved you any less?”
“No… but…” Fina’s lip wobbled. “It makes it harder.”
Adela smiled faintly. “Love isn’t meant to be easy, darling.”
She kissed the top of her daughter’s head, holding her close. “These marks… people talk like they’re destiny. Like they’re certainty. But they’re not. They’re just marks. You and Esther… you’ve been living in your own fairytale, thinking the marks decide everything.”
Fina frowned against her shoulder, her heart breaking all over again. “But Mama… she has mine. How’s that supposed to make her feel, knowing I don’t have hers?”
Adela pulled back just enough to meet her daughter’s swollen, tear-stained eyes. “Do you love her? Truly?”
Fina nodded fiercely. “Of course I do.”
“Then that’s all that matters. That’s what you need to help her see.” She cupped Fina’s cheek. “If you want this, if you want her, then fight for it.”
Fina sniffled, her breath still shaky, but something steadied inside her. “I’ll fight for it.”
Adela smiled softly and hugged her tighter. “It won’t be easy. Give her time. Talk to her. And if you’re meant to be…” she paused, kissed Fina’s temple, “then screw the mark.”
Fina laughed weakly, her tears still falling. “Screw the mark.”
She stayed curled in her mother’s arms, soothed by the quiet hum of Adela’s voice and the steady rhythm of her breathing until, at last, sleep pulled her under.
---
What happened over the next six months could have easily been studied as a case study in soulmate phenomena. Or, more accurately, in how relationships and entire social circles could unravel in the space of a few months.
Fina, armed with sheer determination, and the quiet, constant support of Adela, refused to let Esther go without a fight.
One night, standing outside Esther’s house, Fina made her stand.
“You’re really going to throw this away?” Her voice cracked, her face tear-streaked, her entire body trembling as she stood in the porch light. “I can’t help this.” She motioned helplessly to her arm, hidden beneath the loose sleeve of her shirt, even in the thick summer heat. “We can’t control this.”
Her voice broke again. “But we can control how we feel.”
Esther stood frozen in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
“I love you, Esther,” Fina whispered, her heart splintering with every word. “Despite this.” She gestured again, her voice turning fierce through her tears. “Screw the mark. I choose you.”
She stepped closer, seeing Esther’s walls begin to crack.
“I want us to move into those dorms like we planned. I want to eat boxed macaroni cheese with you in the middle of the night. I want to travel the world with you. Remember?” Her voice wobbled as she reached out, cupping Esther’s cheek.
Esther nodded shakily, her lip trembling as Fina’s thumb brushed away a tear.
“Please,” Fina whispered, stepping closer, desperate now. “Don’t you want me?”
Esther’s resolve finally shattered. With a soft sob, she pulled Fina into her arms, kissing her, a kiss that was gentle, uncertain, but real.
“I want you,” Esther whispered against her lips. “Of course I do.”
Fina laughed through her tears, cupping Esther’s face. “Screw the mark.”
Esther nodded, voice breaking as she repeated it. “Screw the mark.”
And then, for a little while at least, they believed that might be enough.
---
Fina stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of her graduation gown. They had made it. Somehow.
She looked past her reflection to her friends milling around behind her, bruised, battered, and a little out of sorts, but graduating all the same.
The last few months hadn’t exactly gone to plan. What started as Fina and Esther’s soulmate drama, the so-called Golden Couple falling apart, had just been the beginning. Their whole group had started to fracture.
In the final months of the academic term, Carmen and Tasio both received their soulmate marks. Good news? Not exactly. Tasio was already dating Claudia, and everyone had assumed her mark would match his, a T. Maybe all the signs matched, they told themselves. Maybe the marks weren’t literal. That’s what they said, anyway, to explain Carmen also getting a T.
They were all grasping at straws.
Then came the chaos.
When Claudia’s mark finally appeared, it wasn’t a T.
It was an M.
That hit a nerve for Fina and Esther.
Jokes about it being the same M didn’t land well at all.
It wasn’t until later that they discovered Mateo, the class’s quiet, religious nerd, had the same mark as Claudia. Suddenly, things made a little more sense. Well, sort of.
They had barely exchanged two words, and in the months that followed, it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon.
And Carmen? She had thrown herself into conspiracy theories. She was convinced soulmate marks were either a mistake, a scam, or something she could somehow scientifically disprove. Especially after her own boyfriend, Jacinto, got his mark, and it wasn’t a C. It was a D. Which turned out to belong to Dario.
That was also how they found out Jacinto was bisexual. Fina, for her part, had always assumed.
So, no. The end of term hadn’t exactly been simple.
But university, they told themselves, would be different.
Madrid would be a fresh start.
No gossip. No rumours. No people glancing at their arms when they passed in the corridor. No past mistakes hanging around their necks.
All four of them were attending Madrid University. Fina and Esther had managed to secure dorm rooms together, just down the hall from Claudia and Carmen. And there, they could begin again.
--
Fina posed for photos, laughing with her friends, tossing her cap in the air like they were in an American movie. And then, drifting to the family area, she hugged her mum and dad, listened to her mother fuss about dinner plans, her father haggling with taxi drivers, the chaos familiar and comforting.
Until she felt an arm slide around her waist.
“Congratulations, love,” Esther murmured softly against her ear, smiling as she leaned in.
Fina turned, wrapping her arms around her without hesitation. “We did it,” she whispered, resting her forehead briefly against hers.
---
Later, lying in bed with Esther asleep beside her, Fina stared up at the ceiling.
Things were better. They were.
But not fixed.
She glanced at Esther, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing soothing, her face peaceful. And still, Fina felt that pinch in her chest, the one that came when conversations about soulmate marks crept too close, when Esther fell silent, when the look in her eyes changed.
She shifted quietly, pulling up the sleeve of her sleep shirt, frowning at the mark on her arm.
The elegant M along with her S, still stark against her skin. Still making no sense.
Fina sighed, brushing her fingers over it, the gesture more habit than anything else.
University will be better, she told herself.
She had to believe it.
They could start again.
---
“Who were you with?”
The question came flatly from their shared bedroom as Fina stepped through the door, shrugging her camera bag onto the shelf.
“Just the usual,” she said lightly, not thinking much of it as she kicked off her shoes. “The focus group.” She waited for a reply that didn’t come. “Miguel still doesn’t have it,” she added with a small laugh, glancing back, only to pause.
Esther was standing there, arms crossed, frowning.
Fina’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“You said you were going to the cafeteria.”
“Uh huh.” Fina’s brow creased in confusion. “And we did.”
“Luca said he saw you in the park.”
There it was. Fina let out a soft, tired sigh, feeling the weight of it settle in her chest.
“Esther…”
She knew where this was headed. Where most of their conversations went these days.
University was supposed to be a fresh start. And for a while, it had been. But lately, Esther had grown tense. Defensive. Jealous. The questions came more often: Who were you with? What’s your classmate like? Why didn’t you text?
And then, one night, Esther had broken down completely, admitting the fear that followed her constantly: when are you going to meet your real soulmate? When are you going to find your M?
“This can’t go on, darling,” Fina said softly now, stepping closer. “I saw Claudia in the park on the way back.” She reached for Esther’s hands, her voice calm but tired. “That’s all.”
Esther exhaled shakily, her body deflating like air leaking from a balloon. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, head dropping. “I’m just… stressed. This report’s killing me, and my head’s a mess.”
Fina felt the familiar tug in her chest as Esther squeezed her hands, looking up at her with that small, guilty pout, the one that always made Fina cave.
“Forgive me?”
Fina hesitated… then nodded, squeezing her hands back. “You need to trust me, Esther. You need to trust us.”
Esther nodded. “I do.”
And for now… things were fine again.
Until next time.
---
“What do you mean you can’t come?” Carmen’s voice crackled down the phone, equal parts exasperated and amused. “Fina, it’s quiz night.”
Fina sighed as she walked towards the dorm. She could already hear the background noise from the Student Union, the chatter, the music, the general chaos of Thursday nights. “I haven’t had a chance to speak to Esther yet.”
“Ask permission, you mean.”
“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Fina said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I know… but this is turning into something you can’t just pull back from, Serafina.” Carmen’s tone softened for a moment, familiar ground between them now. Conversations they had too often lately. “Just send her a message and get your ass here. We need your brain for the geeky stuff.”
Fina managed a tired laugh as Carmen hung up.
She stepped into the dorm and paused, glancing around. Thursday. Quiz Night. And yet, the thought of going without Esther knowing sat heavy on her. Things were easier when Esther had time to process, when she knew in advance where Fina was going and who with.
But what was she supposed to do? Just sit and wait?
Fina changed quickly, glancing at the time. Esther was at a speaker event tonight, she had said she wasn’t sure when it would finish.
Making a decision, Fina grabbed her phone and sent a quick text:
Heading to quiz night with the girls. Join us when you’re done. Love you. ❤️
Message sent. Message read.
And that was that.
---
The usual cheer went up as Fina arrived at the Student Union. Carmen threw her arms in the air dramatically, demanding high-fives as Fina sat down with the group, the easy atmosphere washing over her.
She checked her phone once or twice, saw the message had been read, and assumed Esther would come by when she could.
Drinks flowed. Laughter grew louder. They came second in the quiz and celebrated like they had won, waving around their prize, a bottle of whatever cheap alcohol had been on offer. They declared it would be saved for a special occasion as they staggered out at closing time.
By the time Fina made it back to the dorm, she was pleasantly drunk and grinning.
Until she opened the door.
Esther sat waiting, perched on the bed, arms crossed.
“Hello, love,” Fina said cheerfully, a little slurred, holding up the prize bottle. “We won! Well… second. But still.”
She kicked off her shoes, oblivious to the tension in the air, and peeled off her jacket. “Did you get back late?” she asked casually, shedding her clothes piece by piece as she crossed the room. “We could have used you for the music round.”
She stopped at the edge of the bed, leaning in for a kiss, her smile lazy and affectionate.
Esther turned her cheek.
Fina frowned. “Love?”
“Who was at the quiz?” Esther asked quietly, tightly.
“The girls,” Fina answered easily, too far gone to read the shift in Esther’s tone.
“Anyone else?”
“Well… yeah. Of course,” Fina said, laughing lightly as she flopped down beside her. “Not much of a quiz if it’s just us three, silly.”
She reached out, cupping Esther’s face clumsily and pressing a kiss against her mouth, not noticing how stiff she had become.
“Come here,” she murmured, curling into Esther’s side, sleep already tugging at her. “Mmm. Missed you.”
And within minutes, Fina was asleep.
Oblivious.
Esther lay awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
And wondering how long she could keep doing this.
---
Fina blinked awake, reaching out instinctively for the warmth beside her.
Cold sheets.
She frowned, sitting up slowly, brushing hair from her face. The small bathroom door was open, empty. She shuffled up, bleary-eyed, and started her morning routine, brushing her teeth, switching on the shower.
She heard the door open.
“I’ll be out in a minute!” she called over the water. “Please tell me you brought coffee, my head’s killing me.”
She laughed softly, rinsing off quickly, and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel.
“Morning,” she said, moving towards Esther for a kiss.
But Esther stepped back.
Fina froze. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Esther said, her voice shaking.
Fina felt the world tilt beneath her feet. “What?”
“Last night, Fina.” Esther’s voice cracked as tears filled her eyes. “I can’t take this.”
Fina crouched in front of her, heart pounding. “Hey… hey. What’s going on?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t spend every day terrified that when you go out… when you’re with people… that one day you’ll meet them. Whoever your mark belongs to.”
Fina tried to steady her own breathing. “Love… I was at quiz night. I told you.”
“I can’t, Fina,” Esther sobbed, her breathing coming fast and shallow.
“Breathe,” Fina said gently, standing and pulling Esther into her arms. “Come here. Breathe with me. We can talk about this, okay? Just let me—” She reached for her phone on the nightstand, but it wouldn’t unlock.
Her heart stuttered. “What…?”
iPhone disabled. Try again in 48 minutes.
She turned, confused, seeing Esther standing there, eyes guilty.
“Did you… did you try to get into my phone?”
“You changed your password,” Esther said defensively.
Fina stared, stunned. “No, I changed the image lock. For the group project, remember? You knew that.”
Esther looked down, shame flooding her expression.
“What were you looking for, Esther?” Fina’s voice cracked now.
“I didn’t know who you were with!” Esther suddenly shouted. “You said the girls, but who else? Who else was there?”
Her voice dissolved into tears, her breathing ragged as she crumpled. “I can’t keep doing this, Fina. I can’t. I see what it’s doing to us, what it’s doing to you.”
She stepped forward, reaching for Fina’s hands.
Fina stepped back.
“You don’t trust me,” she said, her voice hollow.
“I do!” Esther cried in frustration. “But every day I’m waiting, for it to happen. For the day you meet whoever your mark belongs to. You already have them on your skin, Fina. How can I pretend that doesn’t matter?”
Fina shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I’ve asked for a transfer.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
Fina’s head snapped up. “You’ve what?”
“I’ve asked to move dorms. To another hall.”
“You’re leaving me?” Fina’s voice cracked, rising now. “Just like that? No talking, no discussion, you’ve decided, and that’s it?”
“I need to let you go.” Esther’s voice broke, but her body stayed firm. Fina’s gaze followed, horrified, as she saw Esther’s suitcase already packed by the door.
“You’ll talk me out of it,” Esther whispered. “Like you always do.”
“Because we’re worth fighting for!” Fina cried, stepping towards her.
Esther shook her head. “I need to do this. For you. And for me. I can’t live like this… waiting to lose you.”
“I won’t leave you!” Fina shouted. “You’re leaving me! Screw the mark, remember?”
Esther’s eyes filled again. “Screw the mark,” she whispered sadly. “But it was only ever a matter of time.”
“Don’t do this,” Fina begged, tears falling freely now.
“Be happy, Fina.”
And then Esther pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, picked up her suitcase, and walked out.
Fina stood frozen in the silence, staring at the door, willing it to open again.
It didn’t.
Her body crumpled. She collapsed onto the bed, sobbing.
Her phone lay locked, useless, across the room, another casualty of Esther’s spiralling jealousy.
She looked down at her arm.
The M and the S, intertwined in that cruel, elegant design.
“This mark has ruined my life,” she whispered.
Chapter Text
Crossed Lines
Five Years Later
“Are the studios set up?” Marta asked briskly, glancing to her left as she walked, typing on her phone.
“Yes, boss,” one of the assistants replied, quickening his pace to keep up. “Studio One’s ready, Studio Two’s nearly there, and we’re just waiting for confirmation on Three.”
“Good,” Marta said, her tone clipped. Then she paused, turned slightly to properly look at him, and offered a quick smile. “Thank you.”
Before he could respond, her phone pinged, pulling her attention away.
Today was big, possibly the biggest day of her career so far. Her company was leading a luxury fashion campaign, perfectly timed for fashion week.
Everywhere she turned, her studios were packed: equipment, racks of clothes, scattered props, photography kit piled high. She couldn’t take five steps without passing someone speaking in quick, hushed tones, technicians, runners, designers, all working in her hub, building something beautiful.
“Coffee, boss,” someone said in passing, not slowing as they deposited a coffee cup into her waiting hand.
“Thanks!” Marta called after them, getting only a backwards wave in reply as she moved toward her office.
She loved this, the chaos of a shoot. Moving between studios, offering guidance, lending a hand, even holding fabric in place for last-minute stitches. The buzz of it all? She thrived on it. No time to overthink, no space to hesitate. Just a clear objective: get the job done.
“Focus,” she muttered to herself as she reached her office, set down the coffee, and rolled her shoulders. The next few hours were going to be hectic.
And she couldn’t wait.
---
“Focus.”
A pair of hands landed gently on her shoulders, grounding her back in the moment, pulling her out of her spiralling thoughts.
“Marta.”
The voice was calm, steady. Familiar. Hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her to focus as her breath came uneven.
“It... it can’t be,” Marta whispered, locking eyes with Alicia’s steady green gaze. “How can it be?” Her hand dropped to her arm, instinctively covering it, as if shielding herself from the mark that now branded her skin. M&S.
She had bolted from the bed, rushing to the bathroom, needing the harsh overhead light to make sense of it. She’d tried washing it off. Scrubbing, scouring, anything to erase it, until Alicia had appeared in the doorway, wrapped in one of Marta’s robes, calmly guiding her out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. A stiff drink had appeared in her hand before she had even asked for one.
“Well, sweetie... looks like your bond’s activated,” Alicia had said softly.
“With an eighteen-year-old?” Marta hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “What possible interest could I have in an eighteen-year-old?”
Alicia gave a small, nervous smirk, trying for humour. “I don’t know. Somone that’s clearly into older women?”
Marta didn’t laugh. Alicia’s grin faltered.
“I don’t believe this.” Marta looked down at her arm again, staring like it didn’t belong to her.
“Hey,” Alicia said gently, moving closer. “This doesn’t have to change anything.” She took Marta’s hands in her own, her voice calm but firm. “You keep living your life. If you meet your soulmate, fine. But right now? Right now, you focus on what’s in front of you.”
Marta met her eyes reluctantly.
“And what’s in front of you is a big meeting tomorrow. You’re going to kick ass and get this company off the ground. That’s your reality. That’s what matters.”
Marta swallowed hard, glancing down. “I just... I don’t understand it.”
“And that’s okay.” Alicia’s voice softened even further. “You’ve got time to understand it. But you? You’re still you. That mark doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t define you, unless you let it. Are you planning to start swiping through those soulmate apps? Start hunting someone down?”
Marta scoffed, shaking her head.
“Exactly. So let things flow.”
“I’m not good at that,” Marta admitted, with a weak smile.
“In that case,” Alicia said with a grin, “we do the next best thing. We ignore it.”
“Ignore it? How?”
“You’ve got it, sure. But so what? Cover it up. Buy one of those flesh-coloured wraps, like we use for the models. Focus on what you can control. Okay?”
Marta was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I can do that. The business. The company. I can do that.”
“Good.” Alicia took a breath, then spun Marta gently by the shoulders. “Now... bed.”
Marta sighed, reluctant. “I’m not exactly in the mood anymore..”
Alicia laughed softly as they headed back towards the bedroom. “Please. You think I’m leaving you alone with your thoughts tonight? Not happening.” She tugged on one of Marta’s oversized t-shirts and slipped into bed beside her. “Besides...” Alicia smirked, “you’re sworn to someone else now. Wouldn’t be right.”
Marta threw a pillow at her, deadpan. “Too soon.”
“Way too soon,” Alicia grinned, dodging it easily. She slid in beside her, pulling Marta into a loose, comforting embrace.
“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Marta murmured, her voice small in the dark.
“Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll get you through it.” Alicia’s voice was gentle now, barely more than a whisper. “But first? Focus, deal with tomorrow.”
Marta took a shaky breath. “Focus.”
---
And that’s exactly what she did.
Her mindset never shifted. Her focus never wavered. Her priority, then and now, was her career.
The company had grown from strength to strength. Marta had built a reputation as one of the best in the industry. Demanding? Absolutely. But fair. Known for her high standards, yes, but also for her kindness, her attention to people as much as to process. She was respected. Admired. An example in her field.
As for the soulmate mark?
She buried it. Deep.
In those early months, she had got used to covering it, wrapping her arm in discreet nude sleeves during events, instinctively tugging her sleeves down when eyes flickered her way She wore her ‘unmarked’ identity like a badge of honour back then. It was a quiet point of pride: her drive wasn’t about destiny, or emotions, or some unseen bond. She wasn’t chasing a soulmate. She was chasing success.
Over time, she relaxed about it. Her reputation was solid now. People didn’t question her dedication anymore. Whether marked or unmarked, she had proved herself. But those early months? They had been hard.
And dating? That had been a whole different shift.
Once, she had moved easily through the unmarked circles, places where people like her could build lives without questions about bonds or fate. But after the mark? Some of those doors quietly closed. People she used to meet up with when she travelled started drifting away. Some ghosted her entirely. Others just... faded out.
Now? She found herself only looking for people who were unmarked. She stuck to the apps. In person, dating had become a challenge. People would spot the edge of her mark and then came the questions. The pity. The accusations.
Why aren’t you looking?
Why are you ignoring it?
How can you pretend it’s not there?
Not that she was looking anyway.
There had never been anyone who had caught her attention. No mysterious stranger whose name started with S. Not that she cared. Not that she was watching.
Eventually, it became something she barely thought about at all.
And that suited Marta just fine.
“Boss.”
A voice came from the door. “We’re having issues with Giovanna. Again.” The young assistant rolled his eyes.
Marta let out a low groan. Of course. Giovanna, brilliant in front of a camera, impossible behind the scenes.
“I’ll be right there,” she said, taking a steady sip of her coffee before setting it down. She gathered her things, rolled her shoulders, and headed back to work.
---
“Don’t forget the extra batteries,” came a voice from the door as Fina packed her bag.
She looked up, unimpressed, giving a deadpan stare that made Marcos raise his hands in surrender.
“Are you ready?” he asked as Fina slung the bag over her shoulder.
“Good to go,” she said with a nod, following him out of the photography studio.
“Try not to flirt with the models today, yeah?” Marcos teased as they moved through the building. “This could be a big deal. For us. For you.”
“It happened once,” Fina said, giving him a flat look. But then her expression softened, shaking her head at the memory as they loaded the gear into the car.
The doors shut. The engine rumbled to life. Studio Reina, and the fashion campaign that could change everything, lay ahead.
She took a deep breath.
Marcos was right. This could be her moment.
Hard to believe how close she had come to throwing it all away.
---
An insistent knock dragged her from a hazy, alcohol-soaked sleep. Fina rolled over, blinking against the dull throb in her head, taking in the tangle of dark hair on the pillow beside her.
Sofia? Selina? She wasn’t sure.
“You need to go,” Fina muttered, giving the girl a gentle shove. Whoever-she-was mumbled something, grabbing her underwear as Fina shrugged on her robe and stumbled to the door, her head pounding.
She yanked it open. “What?” she snapped.
Carmen stood there, just as unimpressed. Her expression shifted when she glanced past Fina, catching sight of the half-dressed girl pulling on her jeans and shrugging into her jacket.
“Call me,” the girl said lightly, brushing past Carmen without waiting for an answer.
Carmen didn’t even watch her leave. Her focus was all on Fina now. “Again?” she said, voice tight with frustration.
“I can do what I want. I’m single, remember?” Fina grumbled, reaching for the half-empty water bottle on the floor and a couple of painkillers, trying to blunt the growing headache.
“You need to get your ass in the shower and get to class,” Carmen said, pushing past her into the room. She made a face, flinging the windows open. “It stinks in here.”
“Don’t mother me,” Fina snapped.
“Someone has to.” Carmen’s voice was quieter now, but firm. “Fina, this needs to stop.”
“She left.” Carmen started to say.
“Don’t.” Fina’s voice was sharp, her grip tightening around the bottle.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. She left, Fina. And you’re throwing everything away.”
“I said don’t.”
Carmen stepped in front of her, not backing down. “You miss this class; you fail the subject. Is that what you want? To throw it all away? For her?”
Fina dropped down onto the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. “No,” she whispered. “I just… I just want to forget.”
Carmen’s expression softened.
Esther hadn’t just left. She had disappeared. She had changed dorm rooms, then transferred onto an exchange programme, and blocked Fina from every account she could find.
Paris.
No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone.
Fina had gone out that night. Got drunk. Took someone home.
That had been six months ago. And not much had changed since.
Drink.
Dance.
Fuck.
Forget.
One rule had remained, though. No one with a name starting with M. No matter how drunk she was, no matter how good things felt, M was the line she wouldn’t cross.
“Well,” Carmen said gently, sitting down beside her, “do what you want in the summer. But today? Go shower. Get to class.”
Fina didn’t move.
“I’m not leaving until you do,” Carmen added, pulling out her phone and settling in like she meant it.
Fina looked at her, really looked, and for the first time in a while… she smiled. It was small, tired, but real.
“Okay. Fine.” She stood, moving towards the bathroom. “Thanks, Carmen.”
Carmen said nothing, just stared up at the ceiling as the door clicked shut behind her.
Things were spiralling. Missed classes. Barely passing exams. Claudia and Carmen had tried, both together and separately, but nothing was changing.
Something had to give.
And eventually, it did.
Fina failed her first year of university.
That was the wake-up call.
Adela and Isidro had come to collect her, moved her out of the dorms, and brought her home. There had been an intervention. Family. Friends. No more ignoring it.
And somehow, it worked.
Fina clawed her way back, working twice as hard to fix the damage. Photography became her focus. Her anchor. Summer apprenticeships led to real experience. And, in her final summer before graduation, she had met Marcos on a freelance project.
He offered her a job.
And now? She was thriving. She had graduated at the top of her class and was now working with one of the best photography companies in Spain.
That moment had been the end of everything.
But it had also been the start.
The start of everything.
---
The studio was far more chaotic than Fina had expected. No sooner had they checked in at the front desk, names given, IDs shown, they were swept straight through to the main studio. Kit, clothing racks, and people filled every inch of space.
“We need a setup here!” someone barked as they rushed past. Fina barely registered the voice, focused instead on getting her camera positioned where she needed.
A commotion caught her eye from across the room. A tall, dark-haired woman stood motionless amid the chaos, pointedly ignoring the frantic assistant in front of her, who looked moments from physically folding herself in half just to get the woman’s attention.
“That’s Giovanna,” Marcos murmured as he passed by, setting equipment down. “I heard she once held up a shoot for four hours until someone got her coffee order right.”
He shook his head and kept moving. Fina refocused, dealing with the models already assembled and settling into her rhythm.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde hair pulled into a sharp, high bun, a woman striding through the far side of the studio, three people trailing her, all talking at once. Something about the moment snagged Fina’s attention, her curiosity stirred.
But then came the familiar click of her camera shutter, and just like that, she was back in the zone.
---
If Marta was honest, she hadn’t wanted Giovanna on this shoot. The woman’s reputation wasn’t just earned, it was underestimated. People said stories about her were exaggerated. In Marta’s experience, it was the opposite. Giovanna was worse. But she was a big name and an even bigger face, and thankfully, only booked for today. Assuming they got her in front of the camera at all.
Marta stepped into the studio, answering questions from a few of the techs about the setup in Studio Three. Something wasn’t working with the lighting, nothing major, but enough to stall them.
She took a steadying breath, fixed on a smile she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt, and pushed back through the door to deal with Giovanna.
And froze.
Not because Giovanna was being difficult, but because she wasn’t.
Instead of her usual diva routine, Giovanna was posing. Smiling. Laughing, even. Marta blinked, certain exhaustion was playing tricks on her, but no, the impossible scene remained. Giovanna looked…happy.
Her gaze shifted automatically to the photographer, the person apparently working this small miracle. From Marta’s angle, she could only see the woman from behind, but her mind logged the details all the same: high-waisted jeans, white T-shirt, flannel shirt worn loose over the top, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail.
She was calling out playful instructions, teasing encouragements, and Giovanna seemed to lap up every word.
Marta found herself watching longer than she should have. A minute, maybe two, standing motionless in the doorway, drawn in by the energy the woman radiated.
Then a voice called her name, snapping her back to reality. Studio Three still needed sorting.
With a last glance at the photographer, who, her brain noted again, wasn’t a bad view at all, Marta turned and walked away.
---
If there was one thing Fina knew how to do, it was how to talk to women, and, when needed, how to flatter them.
While shooting the other models, she kept half an eye on the unimpressed woman lurking at the back of the studio. Giovanna. Completely ignoring the assistants, letting the chaos swirl around her, and clearly enjoying every second of the disruption.
Fina let it play. She waited. Then, when the moment was right, she wandered casually to the drinks cart, poured herself a coffee, and struck up a conversation. Not with Giovanna directly, at first, that would be too easy, but with one of the other models. She feigned ignorance of who Giovanna even was, offhandedly complimented the other woman, someone Fina knew was seen as a rival to Giovanna, and that was it.
People were simple, sometimes. You just needed to know which nerve to press.
Minutes later, there she was: Giovanna in front of the camera, giving Fina her best work. The shift in the room was palpable, the noise dropped, eyes turned. Even the assistants stopped pretending to be busy.
Fina adjusted a light, repositioning it to catch Giovanna’s best angles, then gave her a slow wink. Her voice dropped as she passed close.
“Let’s show them why you’re the first name on any list. What you can really do.” She let her gaze flick down, deliberately slow. “Bet none of these other girls even come close.”
Hook set. The shoot was hers.
She was wrapping up when she caught the flash of blonde again. High bun. Moving fast. Controlled.
Distracted, Fina closed a few lenses and accepted the quiet praise from one of the techs ‘fixer’ was the term, she noted with a half-smile, but her focus was elsewhere now. The blonde had stepped deeper into the studio, commanding the space without even trying. Big blue eyes, sharp features, precise movements tempered by quick smiles and reassuring touches as she passed people.
She was stunning. That much wasn’t up for debate.
But Fina had long since retired from flings where she studied or worked, or so she kept telling herself.
She turned back to her kit, packing away her gear.
At least until a snippet of conversation drifted across the studio, something about Studio Three, and her head lifted, curiosity pulling her right back in.
---
“No, no. It needs to be in Studio Three,” Marta said firmly to the tech. “That’s where we’ve set up for the corner shots.”
An area of the campaign theme leaned heavily on Irving Penn’s iconic style: sharp contrasts, sculptural shadows, corner setups. But the lighting wasn’t landing. Not even close.
“It’s washing them out,” Marta muttered, flipping through the test shots on the monitor. “It’s too flat.” She glanced at another image; frustration clear in her voice.
“We’ve already adjusted the fill lights,” one of the techs offered, but Marta just frowned, shaking her head.
“We can’t aim for Penn and end up with photos that look like a budget catalogue,” she said, exasperated.
From across the studio, Fina heard it.
She didn’t plan to get involved, but she also couldn’t help herself.
“You’re flooding it,” she called, stepping in closer. “Cut the fill. Let the key light shape them. Bounce just enough to soften the edges, not kill the shadows completely. Penn used shadows like a sculptor uses clay.”
The techs glanced at each other. Marta turned.
Fina nodded toward monitor then the door “Mind if I take a look?”
There was a pause, Marta hesitating just a second too long. Then, finally: “Come with me.”
She gestured for Fina to follow, giving quick orders as they moved. “Get someone else to Studio Three,” she called over her shoulder.
“Sure thing, boss.”
Marta stepped aside, motioning Fina ahead as they entered Studio Three. She watched, curious despite herself, as Fina moved with quiet confidence. Within moments, she was shifting lights, adjusting the backdrop, firing off test shots while calling sharp instructions. The room, which had felt tense and cluttered, suddenly felt focused.
Fina approached, camera in hand, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Better. See for yourself.”
Marta stepped closer, peering over her shoulder. The image on the camera screen made her stomach drop, in the best way. Clean lines. Defined shadows. Exactly what she had been chasing.
“Perfect,” Marta said softly, glancing up without thinking. Her smile widened before she caught herself. “Alright. Do whatever she says,” she added to the team, her voice lighter now.
Fina let out a laugh.
Marta looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, one of the assistants hurried over.
“Boss, we’ve got something in Studio One.”
With a reluctant glance back, Marta nodded and followed, pausing at the doorway as Marcos appeared.
“Marcos!” she called, already walking. “You’re fired. We only work with her now.”
Laughter rippled through the room as she disappeared.
Marcos approached Fina, eyebrows raised. “What did you do?”
Fina just shrugged, grinning. “Fixed the lights.”
Then, without missing a beat, she turned back to the camera, chasing the perfect shadow while it lasted.
---
Fina and Marcos worked seamlessly, their rhythm instinctive as they moved around each other, calling shots, adjusting angles, chasing the light. Fina made quick suggestions as they went, noticing Marta’s presence flickering at the edges of her focus, the flash of blonde hair, phone pressed to her ear, nodding and signing things off between murmured agreements.
“We can angle this a few degrees,” Fina said, pointing towards one of the side lights. “Get the shadow pulling here.”
The tech hesitated, eyes flicking instinctively towards Marta for confirmation.
Fina paused, glancing over just as Marta turned, sensing the attention. Still mid-call, Marta’s expression silently questioned what she had missed.
“We’ll get a stronger shot if we tilt this slightly,” Fina said calmly.
Marta stepped behind her, still on the phone but nodded towards the tech, covering the receiver briefly. “I meant it, do what she says.”
Fina gave a small, grateful smile as the tech finally moved. Marta caught her eye with an apologetic grimace for being stuck on the call, but as she passed Fina to head towards the door, she slowed, glanced back, and said quietly, more certain this time “I trust your vision.”
Then she was gone.
And Fina stood there for half a second longer than she should have, processing the wink Marta tossed over her shoulder before being pulled elsewhere.
---
A while later, the shoot was nearly wrapped. The lighting was perfect, the shadows sculpted, the models delivered. Fina and Marcos reviewed the final shots, satisfied.
“Sorry I’ve been dragged all over the place today,” came Marta’s voice from the doorway.
Fina looked up instinctively. Marta looked tired now, hair slightly loose from its bun, blazer carried over one shoulder, but she was smiling. And somehow, still radiant.
Fina turned away quickly, pretending to busy herself with packing down her kit as Marcos crossed the room to greet her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Marta nodding, listening to Marcos, but her gaze kept flickering back. To her.
To Fina.
And Fina felt it. The flush creeping up her neck. Her pulse kicking higher.
Then, both of them started walking towards her.
Fina forced her hands to keep moving, packing methodically, even as Marta’s once-over, not subtle, not at all, made her stomach lurch.
“Fina,” Marcos said, beckoning her. She swallowed and stepped forward, pulse loud in her ears.
“I want to introduce you to—”
A loud crash outside cut him off.
A tech appeared, looking flustered. “Boss? We need you.”
Marta huffed a soft laugh, glancing at Marcos, then Fina. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she said apologetically, and was gone.
Fina felt like she could breathe again. Briefly.
Marcos came over, helping pack up the last of the gear. Fina grabbed onto the practical task like a lifeline.
“Who is that?” she asked casually, far too late for casual.
Marcos laughed, shaking his head. “Fina, seriously? She’s the boss.”
“Yeah, I gathered.”
“No, not just today. This is her place. She runs the whole thing. Marta.” He paused, watching her. “Marta De la Reina.”
Fina froze.
It hit her like a punch to the chest. A thud low in her stomach. Heat creeping up the back of her neck. She could have sworn, for just a second, she felt her soulmate mark pulse.
But that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t a thing.
Marta.
“I need to get out of here,” she blurted, handing Marcos the lens she had been holding. Without waiting for his response, she turned and strode towards the door.
“Fina?” he called after her, confused.
She didn’t stop.
Once outside, she leaned back against the wall, dragging in shallow breaths, her hands trembling slightly.
“Fuck.”
Because she knew.
She hadn’t seen if Marta had a mark, but somewhere deep down.
She knew.
Chapter Text
Chapter Four - In Orbit
Marta ran her thumb along the edge of the photo print, eyes flicking between the images scattered across her workbench and the looping display on the dual monitors in front of her.
Her gaze drifted back down to the print in her hand, one of the Irving Penn-inspired shots. One of Fina's shots.
Her mind drifted back to that moment, Fina leaning over her shoulder, the faint scent of her catching Marta off guard, making her pause. She commanded the room, but softly, with care, checking in with Marta and the techs before capturing the perfect shot. There was just something about her... something in the way she moved, the quiet confidence in her presence, that made Marta want to know more.
She was so focused on the images that she didn't hear the soft knock at her door. Or the door opening.
"Wow," said a voice beside her, making her jump slightly.
"Jesus, Ali." Marta pressed a hand to her chest, turning to find her friend grinning at her.
"I knocked," Alicia said, holding her hands up in surrender before glancing down at the prints. "This is beautiful." She lifted the photo Marta had been holding, studying it. "Turned out well."
Marta caught the sideways glance Alicia threw her way.
"Although, that's expected." Alicia leaned back against the worktable, smirking. "Hello, by the way."
Marta rolled her eyes, planting a quick kiss to Alicia's cheek. "Hello. How are you?" she asked as her eyes quickly flicked over her friend.
Alicia waved a hand airily. "I'm fine."
"It almost didn't turn out beautiful, or at all ." Marta gestured Alicia around to the earlier prints, the corner shots, lined up nearby.
Alicia tilted her head. "Ah. What changed?"
Marta allowed herself a small, restrained smile. "The photographer."
"Pornstache?" Alicia frowned, making Marta laugh and nudge her lightly.
"No. Not Marcos." Marta's tone was pointed. "One of his colleagues. Fina." She moved back to the screens, flicking through the latest set of images. "Look."
Alicia stepped forward, her frown replaced by genuine interest. "She got Giovanna to relax?"
"Mhm." Marta moved through the sequence. "With very little effort."
"Are they on the next campaign?"
"I haven't decided yet." Marta glanced down at the other photographers' work, pretending to weigh her options.
Alicia turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Marta."
Marta said nothing.
"This woman, Fina, she has something. I don't know what it is, but it's there. This style, this eye... it's raw, sure, but you can't teach that. She's got it."
Marta watched silently as Alicia sorted through the prints, absently twisting a lock of hair around her finger.
"What's the problem?" Alicia asked, turning.
"There's no problem." Marta began gathering the prints.
Alicia gave her a sceptical look. "Then make the call."
"I will." Marta glanced at her watch. "We're late."
"You can call from the car."
Marta said nothing, her steps slowing as they headed for the exit.
There was something about those photos. Something in them she couldn't quite explain a pull, subtle but persistent.
She slid into the passenger seat of the waiting car, ignoring Alicia's pointed look, then finally huffed and pulled out her phone.
She found the contact.
"Hello, Marcos?"
--
Fina toyed with the edge of the beer bottle label, peeling it back slowly as she waited. She was early. Not unusual these days. She needed something to do, anything to distract herself.
Her gaze drifted over the restaurant's patio, scanning faces without really seeing them. She was meeting Carmen and Claudia for a catch-up, officially about work, unofficially about her.
"Ah, do my eyes deceive me? She's early," Claudia teased as she stepped onto the patio.
"You're hilarious," Fina said flatly, though she smiled as she stood up for a hug.
"There they are." Carmen's voice came from behind as she joined them, greeting both friends in turn.
Drinks were ordered, food was on the way, but Carmen and Claudia exchanged a glance. Something was definitely up.
"So," Claudia started, giving Fina a pointed nudge, "how was the shoot?"
Fina shook herself out of her daze and smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Hectic. But good."
She hesitated, then allowed herself a grin. "I got to shoot Giovanna."
Carmen and Claudia both gasped.
"Tell me everything," Carmen said, leaning forward eagerly, then froze. "Wait. Serafina... please tell me you didn't sleep with the model."
"What?!" Fina spluttered. "Of course not."
Carmen muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Did you say something?" Fina shot back, throwing a napkin at her.
"Enough," Claudia interrupted, laughing. "Focus on what matters." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Is she as mean as they say?"
Fina smirked. "She's got character."
"That's a yes," Carmen said immediately, laughing.
"No, no." Fina raised a hand, pretending to protest. "You just have to know how to talk to beautiful women, and I do" she said with a wink.
Carmen groaned, Claudia rolled her eyes, and their food arrived just in time to drown out their laughter.
A few beers later, with conversation light and easy, Fina hesitated. Then:
"I... um... I think I met my M."
Claudia nearly choked on her drink. Carmen froze mid-bite, staring.
"Come again?" Carmen said.
Fina placed the bottle carefully on the table. "I don't know. I think I met her."
"At the shoot?" Claudia asked, incredulous.
"At the shoot," Fina confirmed softly.
"A model?" Carmen asked.
"Not exactly."
"Fina. Come on." Claudia sounded exasperated now.
Fina hesitated. "The... boss. Her name's Marta."
Carmen blinked. Then laughed. "Are you sure this isn't just the classic 'lesbian falls for older woman in a position of power' thing?"
Claudia cracked up beside her.
Fina chuckled too but looked away. "I don't know. I felt something. I don't know how to explain it. She made me nervous but also calm." She paused, voice quieter. "I felt something."
"Again... are you sure that something wasn't just 'hot older woman' syndrome?" Carmen teased.
"Did you see if she had your mark?" Claudia asked suddenly, cutting through the banter. Carmen's expression shifted instantly.
"Did she see yours?" Carmen added quickly, glancing down at Fina's covered arm.
Fina shook her head. "No. No marks. Just... a feeling." She tried to shrug it off, but her voice caught. "I don't know. But I'm sure it's her."
She reached for her drink, downed what was left, and muttered an excuse as she stood up to head to the bathroom.
Carmen and Claudia watched her go, silent for a moment.
"What do you think?" Claudia asked, nibbling on a tortilla chip.
Carmen hummed thoughtfully. "Let's see what she actually does about it." She took a sip of her drink. "Because let's be honest... she was sure about Esther too."
Claudia winced. Fina's ex was still a sensitive topic.
When Fina returned, Claudia tried to keep things casual. "So. What's the plan?"
Fina frowned. "Plan?"
"With your M," Carmen said smoothly.
Fina leaned back in her chair, expression guarded now. She sipped her beer slowly.
"Nothing," she said finally. "Nothing has changed, I'm not interested. I'll do what any responsible adult would do."
She smiled.
"Ignore it. And avoid."
Conversation drifted back to safer topics, until Fina's phone buzzed beside her plate. She glanced at the screen and sighed.
"Tell me, Marcos," she said, answering the call.
--
Marta stepped out of the meeting room, the schedule and the crew were finalised. They were officially going to launch the Horizon Campaign, a six-month project that would span cities across Spain.
Madrid would serve as the hub: studio shoots, campaign planning, and production meetings anchored here. From there, they would branch out, urban architecture shoots in Barcelona, coastal campaigns in Valencia, and countryside estates in Andalusia. But for now, everything was rooted in the Madrid studios. The heart of it all.
The first sessions were locked in. They would start next week.
--
The first week of the campaign was chaos. Long days, constant movement, barely a moment to breathe. Fina found herself coming home to her apartment and sleeping like she hadn't in years, heavy, dreamless sleep that swallowed her whole.
Things moved fast at Studio Reina. Some days, too fast. But she was learning, even if most of that involved mastering the fine art of avoiding the boss.
So far, she thought she was managing. She kept to the edges during big team briefings, never sitting too close, even when she could feel those sharp blue eyes lingering on her as Marta spoke.
In the studios, she buried herself in the equipment stations, kept her head down behind a camera lens, or disappeared into the back rooms whenever she caught a flash of blonde hair crossing the space. It helped that Marta always seemed busy. Focused. Untouchable.
Not that she was watching.
She wasn't watching.
Ignore and avoid. That was the plan.
A plan that was getting harder to follow with every passing day.
Sure, she could duck and dive, pretend to be busy, lose herself in the work. But it wasn't just her. The obsession with Marta seemed to be a shared condition.
Not that Fina was obsessed.
You couldn't walk into the canteen or hit the coffee station without someone talking about her. Praise, always. 'The Boss,' they called her, like she wasn't just a person, but a brand.
Fina rolled her eyes as she heard one of the technicians raving about how sharp Marta's direction was. How clear. How efficient. How inspiring.
It seemed everyone had something good to say about Marta.
Not that she was listening.
--
You know the phrase careful what you wish for? That's what Marta kept telling herself, those first few days.
Her phone was in a constant state of chaos, emails, calls, messages, more emails, endless updates. And she loved it. She always loved it. The rush, the noise, the feeling of everything moving at once. She thrived on it.
But lately... her focus was slipping.
More than it should. To her.
She caught herself watching. Not obviously, just from the corner of her eye. Quiet. Discreet. Fina was always working. Focused. Intent. Understandable, Marta told herself. When you were trying to make your name in the industry, that was what you did.
And yet.
Marta found herself wandering the studio corridors more than necessary. It had started after that first time, after hearing a distinctive laugh from inside one of the lighting bays. She glanced through the open door without thinking. Fina, chatting easily with Marcos and one of the technicians, relaxed, smiling. Marta had been halfway to stepping inside before her phone rang and pulled her back to herself.
Now? Her steps slowed whenever she heard that laugh again. Her gaze flicked sideways, just in case she would see her.
In the shared workspace, she caught herself hesitating. Just for a moment. Long enough to glance towards the ladder, where Fina had taken control, adjusting one of the lights herself, stretching as she spoke to Marcos. Marta's gaze lingered, on the slight pull of her shirt, the brief flash of bare skin. She told herself she was only checking the lights.
They were expensive. That was all.
At the end of the week, Marta sat alone in her office, the hum of the studio fading as the building emptied. Her dual screens displayed the first trial shots from the studio sessions. Fina's shots. Marta watched them scroll by in silence.
She had printed some of them earlier. She didn't remember deciding to. She pulled the prints into a folder, movements automatic.
They were good photos.
That was all.
She didn't need to think about why she had saved them.
--
"What a week, huh?" Marcos said, sliding into the booth beside Fina. Around them, scattered across the patio and inside tables, the Horizon Campaign team filled the space, drinks, laughter, and stories everywhere.
Fina laughed, shifting to make room as one of the design team squeezed in next to her. "Feels like a blur."
"Barcelona next," the young man said, raising his beer. "Finally, beach time."
"Time?" someone else chimed in. "What's that? Sounds fake." Laughter rippled around the table.
Fina glanced around, taking in the atmosphere. The casual camaraderie was something she hadn't expected, not in fashion. But the Horizon Crew felt different. Like a team, not competition.
A senior technician dropped the latest round of drinks on their table.
"All right, drink up! The boss put some money behind the bar as a thank-you for the first week of work."
A round of cheers followed. Fina took a sip of her beer, she had thought this would be the place to forget about Marta. Yet even now, not here in person, Marta hovered in the back of her mind, like background noise she couldn't shut off. The drink in her hand suddenly felt heavier, like it stuck in her throat.
Conversation flowed easily after that. People swapped stories, how they got into the industry, their first nightmare jobs, the weirdest things they had seen on set, and the lessons they had learned. The older crew shared horror stories from past campaigns and offered hints of what to expect working with Studio Reina over the next few months.
Fina leaned back and smiled to herself. This was it. She was here. She was part of something big. Something that mattered.
Later, when the night cooled and some of the team peeled off for the few days' break ahead, Fina found herself at the bar with Marcos and Raul, perched on high stools.
"This will ruin you, Fina," Raul said, grinning over his glass. "My first campaign? Thought about quitting three times. I remember calling my mother crying, I wanted to come home."
Fina laughed. "It can't be that bad, surely?"
"Oh, it can," Marcos said, shaking his head. "But that's what makes her different." He nodded vaguely across the room. "It's the small things. Treating us like equals, not just the help. No one else does that."
Fina glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "Her?"
"Marta," Marcos said simply, raising his bottle in salute.
Fina just shook her head, hiding a smile.
"I'll grab another round," she offered, sliding off the stool and dodging through tables, pausing here and there to greet people, shake hands, smile. Names blurred together. She nodded, smiled, kept moving.
Then stopped.
Right in front of the very person she had spent all week carefully avoiding.
--
"Hello."
Fina's stomach dipped before she even turned.
Marta was already shrugging out of her jacket, stepping up to the bar with an easy smile. "Fina, right?"
She nodded, what else could she do? It wasn't the voice that startled her, or even the surprise of Marta being here. It was the closeness. And her eyes, somehow bluer up close, like they had shone brighter just to mess with her.
"Hi, Marta," she said, the words catching on her throat.
The barman slid a drink across the counter without Marta saying a word. Just a nod, and it was there. Of course it was.
"Fina... as in Josefina?" Marta asked casually, glancing sideways as the other bartender set Fina's order down.
Fina froze.
She turned slightly, heart tapping an irregular rhythm, grateful for the arrival of the drinks, something to focus on besides Marta's profile and the way her presence seemed to narrow the room.
"Something like that," she muttered, eyes down, fingers curling around cold glass.
"How's your first week been?" Marta asked, leaning in just enough to be heard over the noise.
Fina glanced up past Marta's shoulder, past the crowd, past the lights, anywhere but her.
Damn her for being so nice.
Finally, she made herself look. Met those eyes, even just for a second. A soft, breathy laugh escaped. "Intense," she said, trying to smile. It came out crooked.
Marta nodded, resting one elbow on the bar, her posture relaxed, herself, completely. "Yeah. It can be."
She tilted in just slightly, voice dipping lower. "You've got real talent, Fina."
Fina blinked. It landed like a touch. Unexpected. Disarming.
"Use every tool you can on this campaign," Marta continued, voice warm, gaze steady. "Sharpen it."
And just like that, Fina felt... stuck. Held in place by something she couldn't name. The air between them shifted. Or maybe it was just her.
Neither spoke. For a moment, time stretched.
Then the barman cleared his throat and slid Fina's change across the bar, breaking the spell with a quiet clink.
Fina cleared her throat, fumbling slightly. "I... didn't think you would come to this."
Marta smiled faintly, leaning back to survey the room. "Because I'm The Boss?" Marta said the latter with a deep voice and a laugh.
Fina cringed. "No. I mean... well..."
"It's fine, Fina. Really." Marta smiled, and it wasn't teasing. Just kind. "I'm not staying long. Just checking in, saying hello to people I didn't get the chance to this week."
Her gaze flicked meaningfully to Fina as she said it, making Fina's cheeks flush.
"Do you need a hand with that?" Marta asked, nodding at the tray of drinks.
Fina shook her head a little too quickly. "No, I'm good. I'll manage."
She turned, gripping the tray with both hands like it was the only solid thing in the room. "You... go. Mingle." She half-waved toward the tables without looking back.
Marta laughed quietly, then stepped past her, weaving through the crowd.
"Marta's here," Fina said flatly as she reached her table, dropping off the drinks with less grace than usual.
Before anyone could question her, she lifted her phone. "Excuse me a second, just need the bathroom."
And she bolted.
--
Fina sat down on the closed toilet lid, opened her phone, and typed furiously into the group chat.
Fina I 10:30 p.m.
Girls, we have a code red.
Claudia I 10:31 p.m.
What's a code red again? Period?
Carmen I 10:32 p.m.
A redhead? 👀
Fina I 10:32 p.m.
Very funny. No. Marta is here.
Carmen I 10:33 p.m.
Ah. How nice of the boss to socialise.
Fina I 10:33 p.m.
No, Carmen. I've spoken to her. She told me I was talented.
Claudia I 10:34 p.m.
Fina. Do not sleep with your boss in the first week. I'm begging you.
Fina I 10:34 p.m.
I've avoided her all week. Now she's here. And I'm tipsy.
Carmen I 10:35 p.m.
Use it to your advantage. Recon mission.
Check out the merchandise. Wedding ring? Soulmate mark? Something?
Come on, this is too good an opportunity.
What happened to the Fina Valero that knew how to speak to beautiful women, huh?
Claudia I 10:35 p.m.
She's right! Get chatting. Find out if there's a special someone in her life.
Carmen I 10:35 p.m.
But for God's sake, Fina... be subtle.
Fina stared at her phone, thumb hovering. Maybe they were right. Not that she would admit it.
She had done a little digging online, not much had come up. Marta was private. Press photos always showed her in jackets or long sleeves, which made sense. In this industry, people got good at hiding marks. She had heard the horror stories, fans, stalkers, people obsessed with finding their "match" in someone famous. If Marta had a mark, she had been smart enough to keep it hidden.
But a recon mission? She could do that.
Fina started typing.
Fina I 10:38 p.m.
Recon mission's a go. Stand by. 🥷
Carmen I 10:38 p.m.
Lord help us.
Claudia I 10:40 p.m.
She's a bull in a China shop 😂
--
Be subtle.
That's what Fina told herself as she left the bathroom, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She moved carefully along the wall of the bar, keeping close like she was in some kind of secret mission.
Stealthy, she thought. I can do stealthy.
Target. Acquired.
Her eyes swept the room. Marta was at the second table closest to the bar. Perfect. She was making her way from table to table, Fina could work with that. Four tables stood between them now. That gave her time. Long-distance recon, casual observations. She could ease some "curious but not obvious" questions into conversation with her own table. Marcos had known Marta for years, after all. Then, once Marta reached them, boom. Up-close intel.
It was practically a flawless plan.
"What are you doing?"
Fina startled. Raul, en route to the men's bathroom, caught her standing pressed against the wall mid-stare.
"Me? Nothing?" she blurted, pushing away from the wall like she hadn't just been caught mid-spy pose. "What are you doing?" she fired back without thinking, brushing past him and hurrying back to her table.
She slipped in beside Marcos and did her best to pretend she was listening. Blend in. Mhm. Yeah. Totally. Right, great. She threw in vague affirmations at what she hoped were the right moments as she casually, very casually, sipped her beer and stole glances toward Marta.
Marta wore a lightweight button down tonight. Damn. No chance of spotting a mark. Fina's gaze flicked lower. Her forearms were exposed as Marta reached for her drink. Nice forearms. She would give her that.
Marta shifted, brushing her hair back, and Fina's eyes dropped automatically to her hands. No ring. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Fina?"
She blinked. Marcos was looking at her, surprised.
"You good?" he asked, just as she realised she had been drinking from her beer bottle for way too long. She coughed, choking slightly as Marcos patted her back.
She waved him off, flustered. "I'm fine."
She wasn't. But whatever.
Fina reached for another bottle on the table. Probably not her best idea. Definitely not her worst.
"Hey, has Marta ever-"
She didn't finish the sentence. Because Marta herself was walking straight toward them.
Abort. Abort. Abort.
Fina's brain stalled completely as Marta approached, sending her entire recon plan spiralling. Thankfully, Marcos kept the conversation going as Fina sat frozen, unable to trust herself to speak.
So much for subtle.
--
"No way," Raul said, laughing as the conversation rolled around the table, with Marta now seated among them.
"I swear," Marcos said, hands raised in mock surrender. "Marta, back me up. You know who I mean."
Marta shook her head but sighed. "It's true," she said flatly.
The table erupted in laughter.
Marcos had dragged Marta into retelling some of their industry horror stories, specifically, his infamous tale about the very respectable older man who had spent weeks trying to woo him with expensive gifts. He still refused to name names.
Fina laughed. "You didn't take the gifts, though, right?"
Marcos just winked and said nothing, setting off another round of laughter.
"Lesson learned, some things are non-returnable," he said coyly, shaking his head as everyone begged him for more stories.
"I'm not getting involved," Marta said, holding her hands up. "This table is trouble."
"And you?" Fina blurted, the beer giving her just enough courage. "What's your worst?"
Marta turned, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "My worst?"
"Well... yeah. Of course." Fina laughed awkwardly. "Come on, give us something."
Marta's gaze flicked over her, just for a moment, and Fina felt her stomach drop straight through her and settle in her underwear.
But then Marta smiled. "Alright." She set her bottle down and leaned in slightly. "Very, very early on, when I was just starting out, a friend and I got called in to check out a studio setup. No questions asked."
The group groaned knowingly. Marta nodded. "Exactly. Young. Keen. Absolutely clueless."
"Where?" Marcos asked, already laughing.
"Berlin."
Marcos howled. "Figures."
Marta nudged him playfully. "One you know well, huh?"
He zipped his lips shut.
"And?" Raul pressed, eyes wide.
Marta gave a resigned little shrug. "It was a porn set."
The table exploded. Laughter echoed around them.
"Quite an explicit one," she added, deadpan, before laughing herself.
"And what did you learn?" Raul wheezed between laughs.
Marta grinned, raised her bottle slightly, and delivered the line without missing a beat.
"Anything can be a dildo if you're brave enough."
The group howled with laughter.
Marta stood, shifting from her spot as Marcos launched into yet another over-the-top story. She started to move toward the next table, but her gaze lingered, fixed on Fina. The noise faded into background hum until her name snapped her attention back.
"Marta, you remember, don't you? We almost died!" Marcos said with a booming laugh.
She blinked, smirked. She hadn't been listening. Not even a little. "When?"
"The flat in New York," he said, grinning. "Shared apartment. Remember?"
Marta groaned, shuddering dramatically. "Ugh, don't remind me. I think I got frostbite on two of my toes," she said, laughing.
Marcos launched into the memory, animated as ever, banging on radiators, pleading with the landlord to turn the heating up, four students huddled under blankets and bad decisions.
As he spoke, Marta drifted closer to Fina, the rest of the group's attention on him providing the perfect cover. Fina turned slightly, meeting her gaze." "I didn't peg you for a shared flat type," Fina said, curious.
Marta stopped beside her, leaning in just enough that Fina felt the heat of her voice. "I think you have a warped impression of me, Miss Valero."
That tone low, teasing, caught Fina off guard. Her breath hitched. Marta noticed, and the smirk that followed was slow and haughty.
Across the table, Marcos roared with laughter again, trying to pull Marta back into the story. "Remember the leak in the ceiling? The water? The mushrooms?"
Marta stepped back, hands raised in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving before you ruin my reputation."
She turned to go, the group still laughing, but her gaze caught on Fina again. Just for a second longer than it needed to.
Fina raised her bottle in a silent goodbye, pulse quick.
And watched Marta disappear into the crowd.
--
Fina watched in awe as Marta worked the room, moving from table to table, stopping to talk to every person. She wasn't just doing the rounds; she was listening, nodding, smiling in a way that seemed... genuine. Interested.
Recon mission, so far? A bust.
Other than the fact her curiosity was now worse than when she started.
Now and again, she caught Marta glancing back toward her. Just a polite smile. A nod. But Fina noticed.
And that was the problem.
Raul had left about ten minutes ago, leaving her alone at the high table with Marcos.
"Hey," she said, trying for casual. "Marta's not... married? Or... got a partner?"
Marcos raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh? The same person who nearly bit my head off for asking about partners is now asking herself?"
Fina winced slightly. She remembered that conversation from when they first met, Marcos had made the mistake of bringing up marks, even asked if she had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. She had shut it down hard. He'd never mentioned it again.
He didn't even know if she had a mark. Only her closest friends and family knew, and even then, some didn't know the whole story behind it.
"I just meant... with the travelling. The job. It can't be easy to, you know, maintain a relationship," she said, proud of herself for stringing together something vaguely reasonable.
Marcos grinned. "Well... I manage."
"Hooking up on Grindr and going to sex clubs doesn't count, Marcos," she deadpanned, laughing as she took a sip of her beer.
"Hey! Don't knock the apps. A man has needs."
He sobered slightly, thinking. "I've not known her to be with anyone long-term. A few relationships here and there, but nothing that stuck."
Fina nodded slowly, tucking that information away. She felt... calmer. Why that mattered, she wasn't going to think about right now.
Across the bar, she watched as Marta politely declined another drink, glancing at her phone, her expression briefly serious. Fina's gaze drifted over her without meaning to.
God, she really is beautiful.
Marta pursed her lips in thought, then looked up toward the side door. Fina followed her gaze automatically. Then Marta shifted, turning toward the main entrance just as the door opened.
Fina watched Marta smile.
And then someone walked in.
"Ah... and now here's the big unknown," Marcos murmured beside her.
Fina's stomach tightened as Marta crossed the bar towards a tall woman with olive skin, long mermaid waves of dark hair, and a face Fina recognised instantly from magazines.
Alicia Kin Rit.
Former model. Now fashion mogul. Part Spanish, part Dutch, part... giraffe, maybe, Fina thought grimly, eyeing those endless legs.
"What?" she said aloud, frowning as she glanced at Marcos, who was watching Marta and Alicia greet each other far too closely for her liking.
"How close those two are" he said, nodding towards the pair. "I've heard rumours. Nothing solid."
Fina said nothing. But her stomach was already sinking.
Fina turned back, watching Marta embrace Alicia, a long, lingering hug. Then a kiss pressed to Alicia's cheek. When they pulled apart, Alicia's arm stayed casually draped around Marta's waist as they spoke, laughing at something only they could hear.
"Alicia was with that... guy, though?" Fina gestured vaguely, unable to remember the name.
"Yeah. She was." Marcos took a sip of his drink. "But I'm not sure. Something about them... I've always wondered."
Fina didn't respond. She was too busy watching Marta brush a loose strand of hair behind Alicia's ear, her hand lingering just a second too long against her cheek.
Then Marta stepped back, nodding, already pulling on her jacket.
A quick goodbye was shouted to the room as Marta moved to join Alicia, holding the door open for her as they left together.
Fina definitely didn't strain her neck to watch them from the window.
And her stomach definitely didn't twist when she saw Marta wrap an arm around Alicia's waist as they walked toward the car, guiding her gently, opening the door for her.
She wasn't jealous.
Not at all.
Chapter Text
Chapter Five - Closer Than Intended
Fina walked briskly up the steps of Studio Reina, headphones in, thermos of tea in hand, and her head firmly in the game.
What game, exactly.
Avoidance. The Temple Run of her love life, or more accurately, her anti-love life.
Whatever had been starting, brewing, building, whatever, it ended now. It wasn't going anywhere good. She had spent most of the weekend trying to understand why seeing Marta outside of the studio had rattled her so much. And worse, why seeing Marta with Alicia had left her feeling... off.
She would deny it to anyone who asked, but she had spent a good chunk of her weekend looking up not just Marta, scanning every image, every pixel she could find for any sign of a soulmate mark, but Alicia too.
What she discovered, or what had first settled her, then unsettled her even more, was that Alicia was unmarked.
Alicia had always been open about it, even proud.
And that knowledge... it brought a strange flicker of satisfaction.
Knowing Alicia wasn't Marta's soulmate, wasn't bound to her in any way, sent a quiet rush of relief through her.
Which was the problem.
The realisation that she felt relieved, that she even cared enough to look, sent her spiralling. Worse still was recognising the ugly undercurrent beneath it: jealousy. She didn't need that. She didn't want that.
She wasn't a jealous person. She never had been. That feeling was new, and whatever it was, it ended here.
She then told herself, over and over, that the nervousness, the pull to be near Marta, the need to know her better... it was admiration. Simple as that. She respected her. Looked up to her. Marta was someone to learn from, a leader in her field.
Anyone would feel that way.
That's what she told herself.
That's what she chose to believe.
But just to be safe: avoidance mode activated. Things were about to get busy. Keeping her distance should be easy.
First hurdle? Off to a flying start.
She stepped into the main boardroom for the weekly meeting and breathed a small sigh of relief, no Marta. It looked like each department was breaking off into smaller planning sessions today, sorting the logistics for the Barcelona trip mid-week.
An hour later, Fina felt good about her decision. Focused. Professional.
Ten minutes later, she cracked.
"Hey... where's Marta?" she asked casually, far too casually, as she caught Marcos between tasks, teams moving all around them. It was clear now Marta wasn't in the studio today.
Marcos, sorting equipment into piles of what was coming with them and what could stay, just shrugged. "No idea." Then, after a beat, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. Fina, without thinking, leaned in too.
"Although," he added with a grin, "I wouldn't be getting out of bed either if Alicia Kin Rit was there."
Fina frowned and smacked his shoulder before she could stop herself. "Hey. Don't be disrespectful." The sharpness of her tone surprised even her. "Not cool, man."
Marcos blinked, caught off guard. Hands up. "I was joking."
After a moment, he added, more neutrally, "Heard one of the techs say she'll be in later this afternoon." He watched her now with quiet curiosity.
Fina shrank slightly, heat prickling at the back of her neck. Okay... maybe she overreacted. Sure, it was disrespectful. But maybe she had come down a little hard.
To soften it, she nudged him lightly as she passed.
"Like you would know what to do with a woman anyway."
Marcos laughed, but his gaze lingered on her as she walked away, still quietly surprised.
---
Marta walked through the studio doors, the usual hum of voices and movement washing over her like background noise. She nodded here and there as she moved, acknowledging people without really hearing them. Her focus was elsewhere. Spotting her assistant, she motioned for her to step aside.
"I need some time to myself today," she said quietly. Her assistant nodded, noticing the tired set of Marta's shoulders and the dullness in her eyes.
"Could you screen things for me?" Marta asked softly. Another nod. She offered a faint, grateful smile. "I'll be in the office. Just... if it's urgent."
With that, she slipped away, dodging conversations and questions as she went.
---
In the quiet of her office, she sat down and powered up her computer, needing something, anything, to occupy her mind. She rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to focus as she pulled up the portal, flicking through the latest uploads and test shots. Her mind wandered anyway.
Until she stopped.
One of the test shots from this morning. Fina, in the background, talking to Raul.
Despite herself, Marta smiled.
Her thoughts drifted back to Friday night. She wasn't a stranger at team drinks, but usually, she showed her face early and slipped away just as fast, letting them relax once 'the boss' had gone. That night though, she had sat in her office long after everyone else had left, telling herself she was too busy to go. Too much to juggle. A convenient excuse she barely believed herself.
Until it wasn't.
With a lie she was absolutely committed to believing, Marta told herself she was only going to the bar to catch up with the few crew members she hadn't properly met yet. That excuse had been enough to get her jacket on and head out the door.
A good, attentive boss. That's all it was.
In reality, it was about seeing one person.
Fina.
Marta smiled to herself, small and inward, remembering how perfectly coincidental it had felt, the moment she walked in, Fina was right there, heading straight towards her. A little glassy-eyed. Beautiful.
She remembered the way Fina had faltered, a flicker of panic before she pulled herself together.
Marta noticed. She made Fina nervous.
And, if she was honest... she liked it.
There was just something about Fina that got under her skin.
That short conversation at the bar... she hadn't even realised she had been complimenting her work, or how intensely they held each other's gaze until the bartender interrupted, breaking whatever moment had begun. She felt it though, that pull. Like a moth to a flame.
She wanted to know more about her. What she dreamed about. What scared her. What made her laugh. She wanted to run her fingers, or her mouth, along that small mole just above her lip.
Marta shook herself, chasing away the inappropriate thoughts. Fina was part of the crew. Not an employee, exactly, but still... it wasn't a good idea.
She sighed. It wasn't one-sided, she was sure of it.
She wasn't imagining the way Fina looked at her when she thought Marta wasn't paying attention. She wasn't nearly as subtle as she believed.
And the non-alcoholic beers Marta had stuck to that night? They made sure her mind was perfectly clear.
She had planned to head back over to their table. Marcos would have been the perfect excuse. Their shared past, the easy way she could slot into a conversation.
But then her phone had gone off.
Then Alicia had arrived.
Then -
Marta swallowed hard as the sting of tears caught her off guard. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus. There was nothing she could do about it right now.
Clicking through the photos, she forced herself back to work. Notes for the week. Plans to make.
Focus.
---
Fina grumbled to herself as she wandered the unfamiliar corridors, quietly cursing Marcos's entire family tree. Somewhere along the way, she had clearly gone too far, maybe a floor or two too far.
He'd definitely sent her on a pointless errand, just to get her out of the way. Told her to take a walk and reset her brain, like she was some kind of faulty computer.
Had she knocked over a few tripods earlier? Maybe. Had she accidentally poured salt into his coffee instead of sugar? Also yes. But honestly, who kept the salt next to the breakfast stuff anyway? She was distracted, that's what she told herself. And told Marcos too, right after he spat out his coffee. Blamed it on nerves, said she was frazzled with the excitement of the upcoming trip.
Lies.
She was distracted, yes. But not by nerves. Her eyes kept flicking between her watch, the clock on the wall, and every corner of the studio where a flash of blonde hair might appear but never did.
"Fina," Marcos had sighed earlier, exasperation heavy in his voice. "Go up to the storage studio and check how many reflectors we've got. This count doesn't match what we logged last week." He'd barely looked up from the spreadsheet, pushing her towards the door like she was more problem than person.
So here she was. Roaming the upper floors like a lost tourist. Sure, she could have asked a runner or one of the techs to check for her, but honestly, the walk was helping. Sort of. If you ignored the part where she was now thoroughly lost.
She sighed as she spotted the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Might as well go all out, she thought, pausing at each door she passed.
Studio.
Storage.
Cleaning cupboard.
Studio.
Marta.
Storage.
She stopped.
Then slowly took a step back, tilting her head to peer at the door left slightly ajar.
Marta.
Fina hesitated, her hand hovering near the doorframe. Inside, Marta sat at her desk, monitors flickering with light. Fina could hear sound from the speakers, but Marta wasn't watching whatever was playing. Her gaze was distant, unfocused.
She looked tired. Still beautiful, Fina caught herself thinking, but tired.
The sharp, composed woman she had come to know over the past few weeks felt... dimmed. Like a light had gone out.
Before she could think better of it, Fina knocked gently against the door and leaned her head inside.
---
"Marta?" Fina's voice was hesitant as she hovered in the doorway.
Marta looked up, surprised. "Fina... are you okay? Do you need something?" She tried not to register the way her heart both jumped and calmed at the same time.
Fina smiled, sheepish. "I'm lost."
That made Marta laugh, tension in her chest easing.
"Marcos sent me on an errand, and I have no idea how I ended up here," Fina admitted, looking embarrassed.
Marta huffed a laugh and stood, rounding the desk. "What did you do to annoy him?"
"Why do you assume I annoyed him?" Fina countered, narrowing her eyes.
"Because I know him." Marta leaned against the desk, trying not to look her up and down. "What was the task?"
"Check the reflectors." Fina rolled her eyes, which only made Marta laugh again.
"You're a floor too high," she said, grabbing her phone. "Come on, I'll show you. I was just about to head for coffee anyway."
They fell into step together, the silence between them comfortable, but Fina still felt the need to fill it as they walked. "Honestly, I thought he was just sending me on a wild goose chase. Like the time my friend Carmen made me go to the hardware store and ask for tartan paint."
Marta stopped halfway down the stairs, laughing properly this time. "No. You didn't."
"I did." Fina smiled, hearing Marta laugh loosened something in her chest. She ignored the flutter in her stomach at being the one to make her smile. "In my defence, I was thirteen."
"Didn't your friends ever pull pranks like that on you?" she asked as they started walking again.
Marta shook her head, still laughing softly. "No."
Fina grinned. "Ah, lucky lady. Good friends."
Marta's smile faltered briefly. She nodded, but didn't say anything, leading the way down another flight.
"This floor's where we keep most of the photography kit," Marta explained as they walked. "Depends on what's booked, but these studios don't get used much." She gestured ahead. "Storage's in there." She pointed to a door. "Next to the red room."
She kept walking but realised Fina had stopped.
"The red room?" Fina echoed, not looking at her, eyes fixed on the door instead.
Marta smiled. "Don't tell me photographers these days don't know what a red room is."
She got the response she expected: a faint scowl.
"Of course I know," Fina said flatly, still staring at the door as Marta leaned against the wall, watching her with quiet amusement.
"You look like I've just told you Santa Claus is behind that door," Marta teased, though it came out softer than she meant.
"This is better than Santa Claus," Fina said, almost reverent. She glanced at Marta. "Is it in use?"
Marta shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think so. We kept it, the original set-up is still there, but no one really uses it."
"It's a dying art," Fina murmured, brushing her fingers over the door. "Everyone wants things fast now."
"Do you have an analogue camera?" Marta asked before she could stop herself.
Fina nodded, glancing back at her. "A couple. Back at the studio, not here. But yeah."
"It's a shame it's not in use," she added softly, letting her hand fall from the door as they moved on towards the storage room.
Marta watched in silence for a while as Fina worked, humming to herself, counting the reflectors and noting them down. She moved with focus, almost instinctively, and Marta found herself caught by it, the quiet comment about people wanting things fast still lingering in her mind.
Before she realised she'd spoken, the words were out: "We've got a Pentax. And a Nikon." She nodded towards one of the shelves as Fina turned to her. "If you wanted to take them on the shoot."
Fina abandoned her task immediately, moving to look for the cameras. "Do we need film shots for the project?"
"Well... no," Marta admitted with a shrug. "But you're right. Maybe we should. Pay homage to the originals, right?" Her stomach flipped when Fina glanced back with a smile and a nod.
"I meant what I said," Marta added quietly. "Use whatever you can here. Hone your craft."
Fina stilled.
"I can get the team to prep the red room for when we're back, if you want."
"It's one of my favourite things to do," Fina said softly, after a moment. "The time you have to take with it, the care. It's not just click, upload, and done, you know?" There was a quiet wonder in her voice. "I'll get us some good shots."
"I'll put some time aside for us when we get back," Marta said, almost before she'd thought about it.
"For... us?" Fina frowned slightly.
"I'm not letting you use it alone," Marta said, smiling now, but her voice was firmer, teasing. "It's a special place."
Fina laughed and nodded. Fair point.
The moment stretched, suspended between them, until Marta cleared her throat, breaking it.
"I'm heading back up," she said, gesturing vaguely. "Think you can find your way back?"
Fina smiled. "I'll try."
Their eyes met again.
"Thank you," Fina said softly.
They lingered like that, caught, until Marta forced herself to look away, stepping back towards the corridor.
She felt lighter than she had in days.
---
Fina groaned as she ended the call with her mother. She glanced at her phone screen: forty-five minutes. For what had supposedly been just a quick question, according to Adela.
Naturally, that had turned into a full interrogation: How was Barcelona? How was the shoot? Had she met anyone famous? Was she eating properly? Sleeping enough?
The honest answers? Lovely. Great. Sort of. Probably not. And definitely not.
Barcelona had been a whirlwind. The team were technically staying in a hotel, but most days they only saw their rooms long enough to grab a few hours' sleep. Breakfast was the only real constant, everyone made sure to start the day together, fuelling up before heading back out. The shoot itself was everything Fina had expected, with the added bonus of battling unpredictable weather for hours at a time. But it was all part of the experience.
She sank into one of the lounge chairs and let herself pause for a moment. She hadn't really spoken to Marta again, not properly, not like they had back at the studio. Since arriving, their contact had been limited to nods across the breakfast table, the occasional smile at the coffee machine, or a brief hello as Marta swept past surrounded by people, always mid-conversation. She was in demand, that much was clear.
Then fate intervened.
The elevator pinged. Fina glanced up, just in time to see Marta step out, coat half-on, unbuttoned, her expression distant.
Fina sat up straighter, glancing at her phone. It was late. Too late for wherever Marta was headed.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, crossing towards the door.
"Marta?" she called softly.
Marta startled, caught like she'd been about to rob a bank. "Hi, Fina," she said, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.
"Are you... going out?" Fina asked, frowning as she glanced at the dark sky outside. The wind was picking up.
"A walk." Though Marta said it more like a question than an answer.
"A walk." Fina echoed it, sceptical. "Do you... want company? It's late," she added, hesitant.
Marta hesitated too, saying nothing. Fina felt herself backpedal. "Or I can leave you to it," she said quickly, stepping back towards the hotel lobby.
Marta looked at Fina then back out to the streets, she had a point.
"Go get your coat," Marta said, almost reluctantly, but she said it.
Fina didn't hesitate. She grabbed her jacket from where she'd left it on the sofa and rejoined Marta at the door.
"I've got this... thing," Marta said after a moment, unprompted as they stepped outside. "Kind of a ritual when I'm away on shoots. Helps me sleep."
She said it casually, but Fina caught the note of vulnerability in her voice and followed her into the night.
---
"You're joking," Fina said, glancing from Marta to the small café, disbelief written all over her face. "Marta...you can't be serious" She laughed, half-exasperated.
"Do you want anything?" Marta asked, ignoring her tone entirely.
Fina hesitated, but when Marta fixed her with a look, a silent if you're here, you're having something, she gave in.
"Hot chocolate," she said, resigned.
"One moment" the man behind the counter said, clearly amused as he moved efficiently, preparing the order. He handed Marta her order first: a small tub of pistachio ice cream.
Fina shook her head in disbelief as they moved to sit outside, Marta insisting it had to be outdoors.
"Ice cream. Outside. At almost midnight. In October." Fina shook her head somewhere between amusement and mild horror.
"Exactly," Marta replied, like it was obvious, taking a satisfied scoop from her tub. "Is there a rule saying ice cream has to be eaten in summer? Or during the day?" She arched an eyebrow at her.
"Well... no." Fina admitted, shaking her head with a reluctant smile as she sipped her hot chocolate. "So this is your ritual?" she asked, eyeing Marta with faint curiosity.
"Mhm," Marta hummed around a mouthful of ice cream.
"And this helps you sleep?" Fina repeated incredulously.
"Yep." Marta set the tub down, looking far too smug as Fina muttered something under her breath about that being unbelievable.
Then, without a word, Marta slid the tub across the table towards her and nodded once. "Try it."
"No way," Fina laughed, pulling back. "It's freezing."
"You've got hot chocolate to warm up after. That's practically cheating." Marta smirked, reaching to take the tub back as Fina hesitated.
But Fina caved. With a resigned sigh, she scooped up a small spoonful and brought it to her lips. The cold made her whole-body tense for a moment, but then the creaminess kicked in, smooth and rich, and her expression shifted in spite of herself.
Marta leaned back in her chair, watching her, looking far too pleased. Told you so.
And somehow, without either of them quite realising, it became a thing.
Fina had insisted Marta take her number. If you're going to wander off in the middle of the night, at least let me know. In case you want company, she had said, trying to sound casual.
When her phone pinged the following night, she had already half-expected it.
Marta I 11:30 p.m.
🍨 ☕?
Fina snorted, shaking her head.
Of course.
---
That became their thing during the shoot, a quiet little ritual at the end of the night.
On the final night, Fina decided to be brave. No hot chocolate tonight. Ice cream.
They had just placed their order when her phone rang. She glanced down, then looked back at Marta.
Marta nodded toward the door. "Take it," she said. "I'll bring them out."
She smiled as Fina walked away, then turned back to wait for their order. A small smile lingered on her lips. These nights weren't about deep, meaningful conversations. Not even about work. They talked about trivial things, whatever came to mind. Just enough to clear their heads and relax.
Fina was easy to talk to, Marta thought. There was no filter with her. No performance. She didn't have to watch what she said or how she said it, didn't have to manage expectations. It was... refreshing.
She stepped outside just as Fina ended the call.
"Sorry," Fina said with a grin, accepting her ice cream. "My mother."
Marta shook her head, laughing. "You can't ignore a call from your mother."
"You too?" Fina asked, taking a bite and immediately wincing at the cold. She smiled through it.
Marta nodded. "I think it's just... a universal thing."
Fina laughed. "I think I'll be rolling back into work after this weekend," she said. Marta tilted her head, confused. "She was listing all the meals she's cooked to send me back with. Apparently, she doesn't trust me to feed myself properly."
Marta grinned. "Well, you are eating ice cream at almost midnight," she teased.
That made them both laugh.
Then, more casually than she felt, Marta asked, "So... no one cooking for you back home?" She kept her eyes on her spoon. "A boyfriend?" A beat. "Girlfriend?" Another pause. "Both? You never know these days," she added with a weak laugh.
But as she glanced at Fina, she could see her hesitate.
Marta's heart sank. "I've made you uncomfortable," she said quickly. "Sorry, Fina. That was out of line."
Fina shook her head, eyes wide. "No, you haven't. I just... I didn't expect it."
Fina had spent so long trying to figure out how she could broach the subject to find out if Marta was seeing someone, she didn't expect it when Marta was the one to ask.
Marta gave a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "I've had enough uncomfortable conversations in my life to recognise one," she said softly. Then, with a lighter tone, "Ignore me. Come on, eat your ice cream before it gets cold."
That made Fina laugh, easing the tension.
They ate in silence for a moment, still a little careful around the edges. Then Fina asked, "What did you mean earlier? About uncomfortable conversations. You mean, like, in the industry?"
Marta hummed thoughtfully, careful now not to stray into anything too personal. "Yeah, I guess. Things are a lot better now. And when you're the one calling the shots, it helps. But when I was starting out... the business could be tough. Cruel, even."
Fina tilted her head. "Is that why you're the way you are?"
Marta blinked. "How am I?"
"Attentive," Fina said after a pause. "I haven't been on many campaigns, but everyone talks about how different it is when you're leading things. With the studio. In a good way."
Marta looked down, a little shy. "I don't think it's anything special. Just treating people the way they should be treated. Shouldn't be hard."
She went quiet for a second, staring off into the distance. "I guess... I want people to feel safe. Like they can be themselves. Say what they feel. Be open. Honest. I want that space to exist. And if people think it works..." She shrugged. "Then great."
Fina smiled softly, watching her. Marta really had no idea how special that made her. "It does."
They finished up and started walking back to the hotel, conversation flowing easily again.
"And when you can't sleep at home," Fina asked with a grin, "do you roam the streets in search of gelato?"
Marta laughed. "I swear this only happens on location shoots. Though..." she added thoughtfully, "I do have a freezer full of ice cream at home."
Fina laughed out loud. "Of course you do."
"Well," Fina said, mock-dramatic, "if I keep this up, I'll have to join a gym."
"You've got a great figure," Marta said without thinking. Then immediately backtracked. "I mean, you've... you can eat ice cream whenever you want."
Fina glanced at her as they stepped through the hotel doors, noticing the blush creeping into Marta's cheeks. She had seen Marta's eyes linger on her curves, more than once. Definitely not in a friendly heterosexual way. And watching her try to cover it was... kind of adorable.
Marta rubbed the back of her neck, still a little pink. "Anyway. I'll see you tomorrow. Last day. Goodnight, Fina."
Fina smiled. "Goodnight, Marta."
They went their separate ways, Marta heading for the elevator, Fina for her room. But Fina paused, turning to look back. Marta was waiting at the elevator, hands clasped in front of her, clearly trying very hard not to look back.
"Marta."
Marta turned, eyebrows raised in question.
"Girlfriend," Fina said with a smirk.
"Sorry?"
"If I had someone cooking for me at home," Fina said. "It would be a girlfriend."
Then she turned and disappeared into her room.
Marta beamed as the elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside, leaning back against the mirrored wall, trying, and failing, to wipe the stupid smile off her face.
At the same moment, Fina leaned against her hotel room door, staring at the ceiling.
Both of them thought the exact same thing.
I'm screwed.
Chapter Text
Chapter Six - Mixed Signals
Fina sipped her tea at the kitchen table, the gentle clink of her spoon against the mug grounding her, something to focus on besides the questioning look her mother kept shooting her.
She had come back to Toledo for the weekend as soon as the shoot wrapped, suitcase full of laundry and a craving for her mother's cooking. Her childhood home felt the same as always, familiar, warm, and comfortably noisy.
---
"Ah, look who it is!" Isidro announced as she stepped through the door. "The famous photographer!" He grinned and swept her into a hug. "Adela, come see, I've been discovered. Spain's Next Top Model!" he added with a dramatic pose that made Fina laugh.
"Of course, handsome," she teased, pinching his chin affectionately.
Her mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hey, Mama," Fina said, leaning in for a kiss.
Adela pulled her into a hug, then held her at arm's length for inspection. "Too skinny," she declared, eyes narrowing with faux disapproval. "Come, eat." With an arm around her daughter, she guided her into the kitchen. "Tell me everything."
"Is that your laundry?" Isidro called from the hall, eyeing her suitcase.
Fina stuck her head out of the kitchen and gave him her most innocent look. He sighed and shook his head but dutifully picked it up to take it to the utility room.
She moved around the kitchen with ease, laughing as she opened the fridge and found her mother hadn't been joking about sending her back with food, the entire top shelf was stacked with neatly labelled Tupperware.
Fina took a step back, snapped a photo, and with a small smile, sent off a quick text. To Marta.
Fina I 1:30 p.m.
I have enough food to feed an army.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, not expecting a reply. Things had been a little quiet between them since the shoot wrapped, everyone rushing to pack up and head back to Madrid. Marta had been clear she didn't want the campaign to disrupt anyone's weekend. Professional. Efficient. As always.
But her phone buzzed a few minutes later.
Marta I 1:35 p.m.
If you need a hand with any of that, let me know 😛
Oh before I forget, I've booked us the red room for Thursday afternoon. If there are any shots you want to take over the weekend.
Fina smiled, thumbs hovering for a second before she replied.
Fina I 1:38 p.m.
Can't wait. Have a good weekend.
After a beat, she added a small "x" and hit send.
She slipped her phone away again and looked up, only to find her mother eyeing her with thinly veiled suspicion.
"The girls?" Adela asked, glancing at her with casual ease as she stirred something on the stove.
Fina shook her head. "No... work stuff." She picked up a chopping board and joined her. "I'm getting to use an original red room next week," she added, letting her excitement peek through.
And that had been fine. Just a normal, harmless moment.
Until dinner.
Here's the thing about mothers. They bring you into the world. They raise you. They know you, sometimes better than you know yourself. Adela was no different.
Something was different about her daughter this weekend, and she intended to find out what. Fina had come home with her usual bag of laundry and hunger for home cooking, but there was a softness to her, a calm she hadn't seen in a while. She looked... lighter. Maybe even content.
"So, were there night shoots?" Adela asked casually as they ate, watching Fina closely over her lentils.
Fina, too focused on the food to spot the trap, hummed. "No, a few days ran long, but it was pretty reasonable for once. Uh, Mart--the lead, was really clear about not working people into the ground."
She reached for more bread without looking up.
Adela smiled to herself.
"Ah. It's just... you sounded busy the other night when I called," she said lightly, letting the line hang.
Fina's eyes flicked away, just for a second.
Bingo.
"I was just out walking," she said too quickly, "with one of the team. Clearing our heads before the last day."
Mistake number one: no eye contact.
Fina had always had a tell, her eyes. If she couldn't meet your gaze, she wasn't telling the full truth. Not lying, exactly, but circling something.
"That's nice. Marcos?" Isidro chimed in, helpfully, from across the table.
Adela gave her husband an approving smile. Perfect.
Fina wiped her mouth with a napkin. Stalling. Classic.
"No. Um... the lead of the campaign," she said softly. "I saw her sneaking out one night, figured she shouldn't be walking alone. So, I went with her."
Still staring at the lentils.
"Very kind, daughter," Isidro said warmly, oblivious to the cat-and-mouse game being played beside him.
Adela, however, saw it all. And Fina knew it.
"Do we know her?" Adela asked gently, as if it were nothing. Just one last nudge.
Fina huffed. Cracked.
"No, you don't. Her name's Marta. She runs the studio we're partnering with."
She finally looked up, as if to say: happy?
Adela smiled to herself but didn't push. Not yet. There was more to this, but Fina would come to her, she always did.
"That's nice, darling," she said breezily, turning back to her plate. "Where to next?"
Fina blinked, thrown by the sudden change of subject. Clever.
"Um, we're in Madrid this week, then back to Barcelona for more shoots," she said, finishing her food.
She helped clear the dishes, though her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"I'll make us some tea," Adela said, guiding her daughter gently back to the table, setting down dessert. She was patient. She could wait.
The conversation drifted through harmless topics, the neighbour's new dog, Isidro's antics with his local walking group, but Fina was quiet, distracted.
Adela watched her closely. Time for a small push.
"What's on your mind, darling?" she asked softly.
Fina jumped slightly, pulled from her thoughts. "Nothing," she muttered, stirring her tea, eyes fixed on the spoon.
Adela didn't respond. She just waited. Eventually, Fina looked up and met her eyes.
A sigh.
"I think Marta is... you know," she said, barely above a whisper.
Adela's heart paused, but her face didn't show it. She gave her daughter the space.
"Your soulmate?" Isidro asked, incredulous.
Adela closed her eyes briefly. He had good timing, then bad timing, but she loved him all the same.
Fina bristled. "The M on my mark, that's all," she snapped, retreating into her tea with a frown.
One step forward. Three steps back.
"Love," Adela said sweetly, standing and pressing a kiss to Isidro's cheek. "Why don't you go keep yourself busy for a while? Let us girls talk."
She handed him a slice of cake, shooed him gently from the kitchen, and sat back down with Fina.
Now... the real talk could begin.
--
Marta stepped out of the shower, towel-drying her hair as she sat at the edge of the bed, wrapped in her robe. Soft music played from her speakers, low and gentle, but the apartment still felt too quiet, quiet enough that her thoughts had room to wander. And, as they had all weekend, they wandered straight to Fina.
She had replied to Fina's text about the mountain of food and added a reminder about the red room booking for Thursday. As she slipped her phone back into her pocket, she looked up to find a pair of knowing green eyes fixed on her.
"Fina?" Alicia asked, casually picking at a plate of salad before giving up and pushing it aside. Her appetite had vanished; there was a roll of nausea in her stomach.
"Yes, Fina," Marta replied, stabbing a bite of food and keeping her voice even.
They'd met to catch up, at Alicia's insistence. She wanted fresh air, conversation, distraction - anything but another evening spent alone with her own thoughts. Marta, exhausted from the week, would have gladly slept for a year. But she couldn't say no to Alicia. Not when she looked at her like that. Besides, company didn't sound so bad.
Still, she wasn't expecting Alicia to zero in quite so fast.
"And?" Alicia raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "You've got nothing to tell me?"
Marta blinked, all cool composure. "Nope."
"You are such a bad liar," Alicia said, sipping her water and watching her like a hawk. "Come on. Spill."
"It's nothing," Marta said, shaking her head, though the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and the way she bit her lip gave her away.
"Marta," Alicia huffed, pouting now, her voice a touch too dramatic. "Come on. I've had a terrible week. Give me something. Cheer me up."
Marta rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose as she caved. "Fine," she said, setting her glass down. "We went out for ice cream."
Alicia grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere."
Marta had spoken about how easily she and Fina had fallen into a rhythm, how natural it felt to work with her, how conversations flowed without effort. But still, she'd hesitated.
"She's... almost an employee," Marta said cautiously, fingers circling the rim of her glass.
"So?" Alicia grinned, winking. "You're not literally her boss."
Marta shook her head but didn't argue. Alicia always had a way of cutting through the rules Marta set for herself.
Then Alicia's voice softened. "And... have you seen anything?" She was fiddling with the edge of her napkin now, trying to sound casual.
"A mark?" Marta asked, already knowing what she meant. Alicia nodded.
"No," Marta said. "We haven't talked about it. She... froze when I mentioned boyfriends or girlfriends. So, no. Nothing."
Alicia nodded thoughtfully. "And do you think she likes you? Like... likes you?"
Marta thought back, lingering glances, soft smiles, the way Fina always seemed to find her in a room. The way she'd blushed. She smiled. "I think so."
Alicia clapped her hands once, delighted. "Well, then! You need to talk to her. Marks, no marks, all the marks, who cares anymore?" she said with a wave of her hand. "It doesn't mean everything. Just do what you want."
Marta nodded slowly, chewing over the words. Alicia made it sound so simple.
But still... a flicker of something lingered. A small, quiet disappointment. Just a flicker. Because as much as she told herself it didn't matter, a part of her still wished Fina did match the mark on her arm.
Later, as she got ready for bed, she thought again about what Alicia had said. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop worrying about fate and rules and soul marks, and just feel whatever this was, whatever it might become.
Smiling, Marta climbed into bed, the thought of what was slowly building with Fina carrying her gently into sleep.
--
Fina pushed her spoon through the remains of her cake, not really tasting it as her thoughts spiralled. She thought back over the past few weeks, the first meeting, the strange tug she'd felt almost immediately, how she had tried to ignore it. But Marta... Marta made it hard. She was kind. Warm. Genuine. And that pull, that fluttering awareness, was getting harder and harder to dismiss.
"I didn't want- "she faltered, "I don't want this, Mama," Fina said at last, voice low. "These marks." She frowned, placing her spoon down with a small, frustrated clink. "You know what I went through. And now what, suddenly I'm just supposed to believe this is it? That she's the one, and that's that?"
Her voice softened. "I told myself I wouldn't do this again. I promised myself."
Adela reached across the table and took her daughter's hand, her voice gentle. "I understand, darling. At the time... yes. Esther was so obsessed with you finding your 'M' that you started flinching any time you heard a name starting with the letter."
Fina's face tightened at the mention of her ex. That wound hadn't healed, not really.
"But now?" Adela continued. "What's the harm in just seeing what happens?" She gave Fina's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You remember the night you turned eighteen?"
Fina let out a humourless laugh. "How could I forget? The night everything went to shit."
"Language," Adela scolded lightly, tapping her hand. "But did it really? Yes, you were hurt, horribly. But look at you now. You've built a life, a career, a future. These things have a way of working out."
She waited, watching her daughter. "And like I told you then, even if you do meet your match, you still get to decide if they're the right person. Soul marks don't own you, Fina. They don't bind you."
Fina stayed quiet, letting the words settle.
Adela tilted her head. "And what about her?"
Fina blinked. "Who?"
"Marta," her mother said. "Does she feel the same? About the mark? Does she even know there's a possibility you're linked?"
Fina gently pulled her hand away, fidgeting with her spoon, eyes darting down to her lap. She bit her lip.
The trinity of guilt, fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, lip-biting. Adela's warning bells went off immediately.
"Fina," she said slowly, "what aren't you telling me?"
"She doesn't know," Fina admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
"Doesn't know what?"
"That we might be linked," she mumbled.
Adela blinked. "How could she not know? Unless..." She sat up straighter. "Have you lied and said you don't have a mark?"
Fina winced. "Not exactly."
Adela gave her a sharp look. "Serafina Valero. What have you done?"
"Well... that's the thing." Fina scratched at her wrist. "She doesn't know my name is Serafina."
Adela stared. "What?"
"She thinks it's Josefina," Fina said, looking sheepish.
"You lied about your name?"
"No! Not really. She just... assumed. And I didn't correct her."
Adela pressed her hand to her forehead. "Oh, daughter... what a mess."
Fina slumped slightly, poking at crumbs on her plate. "Yeah. I know."
---
Fina leaned in to kiss the tops of Carmen and Claudia's heads as she passed, slipping into the seat beside them at their usual café spot.
"Back to normal, huh?" Carmen grinned. "You're late."
"I couldn't get parked," Fina said, pulling a face and sticking out her tongue before flagging down a server to order lunch.
Claudia had texted asking for a quick catch-up now that Fina was back in Madrid, and a Sunday brunch was the perfect excuse. Plates were already cluttering the table, half-eaten pastries, coffee cups, and one of Carmen's over-the-top smoothies.
"So," Fina said, helping shuffle a plate to make more space, "woman of mystery, what's going on?"
Claudia took a sip of her coffee, the picture of casual. "I had a date with Mateo last week."
Fina and Carmen both screamed.
"What?!"
"Why didn't you tell us?!"
Claudia held up her hands, laughing. "This is exactly why I didn't say anything! I wanted to see how it went before you two got all excited."
"And?" Carmen said, grabbing Claudia's arm with wide eyes.
Claudia rolled her eyes, unable to stop a smile. "I'm seeing him again next week."
Another round of squeals.
As Claudia began to recount how Mateo had shown up at her work, he was involved with a social outreach programme for disadvantaged children and had come to the nursery to check on one of the kids, Fina and Carmen listened with growing amusement.
"Oh wow, he really is a saint," Fina said, making them all laugh. Mateo's long-standing obsession with religion had been a running joke since their school days.
"I was sure he was going to end up a priest," Carmen laughed. "Like, genuinely."
"Well, he's not," Claudia said quickly, too quickly, and then clamped her mouth shut.
"Aha," Fina said, leaning in with narrowed eyes. "Claudia..."
Claudia looked away.
"Did you kiss the priest?" Fina asked, deadpan.
Carmen burst out laughing so hard she nearly knocked over her drink.
"He's not a priest!" Claudia hissed, face flushing as nearby tables turned to stare.
"Shh, shh!" Carmen waved her hands, trying to calm the chaos while giggling.
"We kissed," Claudia admitted at last, cheeks still red. "And that's all I'm telling you."
The girls laughed again, teasing her gently before finally calming enough to eat, the easy rhythm of their friendship settling in around them.
"And when exactly can we visit?" Carmen asked, eyes gleaming. Claudia nodded eagerly beside her.
"You've never wanted to visit before," Fina said, narrowing her eyes playfully. "What's changed?"
"Please," Claudia grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. "We just want to come and... observe you in action."
"Observe?" Fina scoffed, setting her napkin down.
"Yeah, see where you work. See your colleagues," Carmen said with a smirk.
"See Marta you mean" Fina said narrowing her eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but nothing is going to happen. I'm keeping things, professional."
"How?" Carmen asked, leaning in. "How are you possibly keeping this professional?"
Fina shrugged, a little more forcefully than she needed to. "I told myself I wouldn't let the mark decide anything for me, and I'm sticking to that." She stood, snatching up her phone. "Nothing's changed just because I think I know who it is," she said, shaking her head. "Seriously. No drama. No soulmate nonsense. I'm keeping things simple. This is strictly professional."
"Mm-hmm," Claudia murmured behind her as she walked off toward the bathroom.
Carmen gave her a sideways glance and whispered with a smirk, "Bullshit."
Claudia nodded, sipping her coffee. "Absolute bullshit."
--
Marta arrived early to the studio on Monday morning, not unusual, but today she'd woken with a rare sense of calm. If she was being honest, it was more than that. She was excited.
Excited to see Fina again.
Excited for their collaboration later in the week.
She was already settled in the boardroom when the rest of the team began to filter in for the morning review of last week's shoot. Her eyes moved across the room as people took their seats and then she saw her.
Fina, dressed in her usual laid-back style that somehow always looked effortlessly good. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, her ever-present thermos in hand.
"Good morning," Marta said, directing her smile toward Fina.
But Fina only gave a small smile in return before immediately turning to speak with one of the lighting techs. Marta's smile faltered.
A flicker of hurt settled in her chest. Unsure what had changed, she pressed on with the meeting, trying to focus. But her eyes kept drifting, searching for Fina, only to find her gaze fixed on the screen or buried in her notes, never meeting hers.
Where had this sudden distance come from? Marta didn't understand, and if she was being truthful, it stung more than she wanted to admit.
The meeting wrapped up, and before Marta could say another word, Fina was already out of her seat. Gone.
--
She saw the flicker of confusion in Marta's expression, the subtle hurt as she opened her mouth to speak, but Fina didn't stop. She couldn't. She had promised herself this would be professional. Strictly professional.
No more late-night chats over ice cream.
No more texts.
No more anything that blurred the line.
So why did she feel so awful?
For the first few days, Fina managed to hold the line. She kept herself busy, stayed out of Marta's way, and avoided seeking her out. When Marta was nearby, she found reasons to be elsewhere.
She pretended not to notice when Marta came near, offered only a tight smile if their eyes happened to meet before looking away. Her guarded posture and cool demeanour were enough to make Marta hesitate, then sigh, and quietly excuse herself from the meeting room, the shared workspace, whatever place they happened to cross paths.
By Wednesday, Fina was at her limit. The distant look Marta wore during meetings, the way her gaze no longer sought her out, it made Fina's chest ache.
She watched Marta speak with Marcos about a few things before walking off, her attention fixed solely on her mentor.
Good, Fina told herself. This is exactly what you wanted.
She repeated it again in her head, firmer this time, as if sheer insistence could make it feel true.
Back in the studio, she didn't bother opening her laptop to review the shots. Instead, she sat still, her hands idle in her lap, eyes fixed on the grain of the workbench as though it might offer some clarity.
She told herself it was just habit, the way she noticed Marta's absence more than her presence. That it wasn't a big deal, even if it felt like one. She was just adjusting. She'd let her guard down, that was all. A few more days, and she'd have it back where it belonged.
This was for the best. For both of them.
She didn't believe a word of it.
The stillness of the moment fractured with the sound of laughter. Not just any laugh, Marta's, low and warm in a way Fina hadn't heard in days. She turned slightly in her chair, not meaning to, not even realising she had, until she saw them.
Marta stood just outside the studio doors, lit up with the kind of smile Fina had begun to quietly treasure. The weight she'd been carrying these past few days? Gone in an instant. Melted away by Alicia Kin Rit's embrace, a warm hug, a kiss on the cheek, and some whispered joke that made Marta chuckle and duck her head.
Fina clenched her jaw.
Good for her, she thought, bitterly.
She rolled her eyes and forced herself not to look again, but her traitorous gaze flicked back just as Alicia leaned in, speaking to Marta with concern drawn across her face. She reached for Marta's hand, giving it a soft squeeze.
Fina told herself it wasn't a big deal. Friends were affectionate, they comforted each other, that's all it was. Nothing more.
Then Alicia's gaze flicked past Marta, and for the briefest moment, green eyes met brown. Fina froze.
And then Marta began to turn.
Panic seized her. Fina stood quickly, head down, and disappeared back into the studio. She grabbed the nearest folder on the workbench and opened it, even though she had no idea what it was.
She didn't look up when Alicia walked past. Didn't move when Marta's laughter faded down the corridor.
It seemed Alicia had only come to take Marta to lunch.
Good for them.
Fina muttered under her breath, shoved the folder aside, and kicked one of the boxes out of the way with more force than necessary.
She didn't care.
So she told herself.
--
"Do you have a minute?"
Fina froze, bent over one of the studio setups, Marta's voice stopping her cold. She closed her eyes for a moment, cursing herself, for the way that voice made her stomach twist, and for how hesitant Marta sounded.
She was an asshole.
She took a steadying breath and turned. Marta stood in the doorway, tentative and unsure, nervously twisting a strand of hair around her finger, her smile flickering like it might vanish at the first wrong word.
"Sure," Fina said, straightening. "I'm just finishing up."
She had stayed late, telling herself it was to fine-tune the setups, but really, it was just to stay busy. She'd forgotten that Marta was often the first in and the last to leave.
A small smile tugged at Fina's lips before she could stop it, seeing how Marta visibly softened at her response, at her speaking to her again. Fina forced herself to ignore the dull ache in her chest, the one that knew she was the reason for the distance. And the flicker of calm that came from seeing Marta relax, even just a little.
"I just wanted to check if you still want to..." Marta began, then faltered. "If you're still interested-"
"Marta," Fina interrupted gently, her smile softening as she stepped away from the setup. "Take a breath."
She waited until Marta did, then leaned against one of the storage boxes, careful to keep a respectful distance.
"What is it you want to ask me?"
Marta gave a small, sheepish smile, shaking her head like she knew she was being silly. "The red room," she said. "Do you still want to use it tomorrow? I know you've been..." she gestured vaguely toward the studio, "busy this week. But I can move things around if you'd rather not."
Fina's gut twisted.
God, I'm the worst.
Marta didn't deserve this. She was trying, really trying, to make her feel welcome, to offer her opportunities most people would kill for. And Fina had responded by shutting her out like some moody teenager.
She looked down for a moment, then met Marta's eyes again, her expression softened with guilt.
"Marta... of course I still want to," she said. A small, real smile followed. "I've just... I haven't really felt like myself this week. I'm sorry."
Marta nodded slowly, fingers still fidgeting. "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet. "I noticed."
The sadness in her eyes hit harder than Fina expected. That look, it knocked the air right out of her. Before she could think better of it, she stepped closer.
"Of course I want to," she said again, now barely a foot away. Her smile curved with regret, then a touch of playfulness. "Unless you're thinking of rescinding the offer. I've been a bit of an ogre."
She nudged Marta's shoulder lightly, just enough to break the tension between them.
Marta laughed, the sound quiet but genuine. "No, we're still on for tomorrow," she said, a little of her usual ease returning. "Though I can't promise I won't accidentally ruin your shots by opening the door at the worst possible moment."
Fina chuckled. "That's fair."
"So... tomorrow afternoon?" Marta asked, voice hopeful.
Fina nodded. "Tomorrow."
They lingered, eyes locked in the silence that followed, the moment stretching between them, charged and uncertain. Unspoken words crowded the air, but neither reached for them.
"Well... I'm going," Marta said, lifting her hand in farewell, but she didn't move.
"Me too," Fina echoed, equally still.
They stood there, suspended in something neither could name, until a passing technician broke the spell.
They shared a soft smile, hesitant but hopeful, before exchanging quiet goodbyes.
As Marta walked away, something bloomed in her chest, a flicker of hope that they might be finding their way back to where they had been. Alicia had been right. There was something else going on with Fina. Something bigger than either of them. It wasn't about Marta. It wasn't even about them.
Over lunch, Alicia had gently talked her down from the edge, encouraging her to reach out, to use the red room as an excuse if she needed one. Just talk to her. Just ask.
Now, as Marta walked down the corridor to her office, she smiled to herself.
Tomorrow was another day.
Hopefully, a good one.
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steponme_bette on Chapter 1 Thu 14 Aug 2025 01:41AM UTC
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MafinDCM on Chapter 4 Tue 26 Aug 2025 08:01AM UTC
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