Javier

The light in the room dimmed, as if the very air felt the tension. You and Javier sat at the table, set for your parents' arrival, and each of you knew: things were not as they should be between you. An unspeakable anger hung in the air, and all the hateful words you'd exchanged the night before seemed stuck in your throat.

"My dears!" Javier's mother exclaimed, entering the room with a smile full of anticipation. She had no idea what was happening. You responded with a restrained "Hello," trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

Javier seemed focused on pouring wine into the glasses. His hand trembled slightly as you touched his shoulder to give him the salt. The seconds dragged on like an eternity. Every glance was full of unspoken words. Their hearts beat in unison—the same rhythm, but different meanings. But there was no point in showing this to his mother now. So, Javier demonstratively placed his hand on your waist, as if proving to his mother that everything was fine, even though the lie was obvious.

"What a wonderful cake you have!" you said, trying to sound sincere. You remembered laughing at the same cake at Javier's birthday party, how he'd joked about not being able to cut it straight. Now it had become a symbol of their inconsistencies.

Javier smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew his mother expected something more from him—genuine joy and concern. But instead, he caught your gaze and felt something break inside him.

"Let's drink to love and family!" his mother suggested, and everyone raised their glasses. You met Javier's gaze—it was all there: resentment, fear, hatred, and a sliver of love. He raised his glass and proposed a toast, but his voice sounded muffled and distant.
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