The yellow lamp on the bedside table cast a warm light in the room. Outside, the night breeze gently stirred the white curtains. In the distance, I could hear the sound of a car passing along the quiet street.
I was still sitting on the edge of the bed, with my hands clasped in my lap, feeling my heart beating hard.
It was strange.
At sixty years old… and yet I felt like a twenty-year-old girl, nervous, clumsy, not knowing what to do with my hands.
Manuel approached slowly.
His steps were calm, but his face also showed a mixture of shyness and excitement.
“Are you nervous?” he asked with a small smile.
I let out a soft laugh.
— A little… and you?
He scratched the back of his neck, like he used to do when he was young.
— A lot.
We both laughed.
That laughter broke the tension of the moment.
Manuel sat down next to me on the bed. I could feel the warmth of his body close to mine. For a moment, neither of us said anything. We were just there, sharing the silence.
Then, with an almost trembling tenderness, he raised his hand and gently touched my cheek.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he whispered.
I felt my eyes getting wet.