Alejandro Vargas

—I didn't imagine it, Nova... and I refused to let go of the habit of when her raspberry perfume was hidden in my jackets —her hands slid into the large steed's black fur.

His skin glistened with the setting sun, a reflection of how long he'd been locked in the stables with Christian Nodal playing for company on that music system.

He didn't feel the cold, ignoring it as if he didn't notice that the layer of sweat on his torso had cooled, and in turn, the grief had cooled even more. His forehead rested on the animal's neck, unable to help but understand the lyrics of that song: "Probably." His chest trembled with memories accelerating his heartbeat, his expression furrowed; the animal itself showed compassion for the man torn apart by a new love experience.

As the weeks passed quickly, Vargas's dull eyes consumed the memory of the things shared in that bed. An autumn that, with the fury of passion, dissolved in the hands of love, wishing every second of his days to see that lady return.

Beyond continuing to be the charismatic colonel on the outside, inside his ranch, he was the dead weight of the unbridled desire to see her again. Regretting not having asked for her number in time, of kissing her a little more before he no longer knew where she was. Months without knowing where the woman who had him so bad was hiding, the one who lived only temporarily in the visitor's cabin near the lake in town.

The long missions failed to silence the tears that flowed when he saw that spring was coming, and although he searched everywhere, she was nowhere to be seen.

Alejandro dropped his bags on the bed; it had been a tough mission, and the first thing he did was take a hot shower. Despite the stormy weather, he headed to the horse stable, thanking the staff for caring for the animals in his absence. The last thing he expected to find was the lady with her back to the man, talking to the steed.