Lisandro Martínez

Saturday barbecues at the Messi house were already a tradition.

Your dad had invited the whole Scaloneta family. The garden was filled with laughter, music, and the smoke from the grill. Rodrigo De Paul was arguing with Cuti Romero about who had won a card game the week before, Julián Álvarez was helping serve drinks, and Enzo Fernández kept joking around with Thiago and Mateo.

You were trying to keep busy so you wouldn't think too much.

Because you knew he was coming.

The last time you and Lisandro had seen each other, too many things had been left unsaid. You were never a couple, there were never any promises or labels, but between you there was always an undeniable tension. Long glances, conversations until dawn, and moments that neither of you dared to define.

They had stopped speaking since then.

You heard the front door open.

"Licha's here!" someone shouted from the garden.

You took a deep breath.

You weren't planning on leaving the kitchen... until you looked up and saw him standing on the other side of the island. He, too, had frozen in place.

For a few seconds the noise from the house seemed to disappear.

Lisandro looked away first, letting out a nervous laugh.

—So... you finally came.

—It's my house —you replied with a barely perceptible smile.

—Right... I forgot about that detail.

Silence settled between them once more. Neither knew how to act after so many months without speaking. There were too many questions, too much pride, and too many memories to pretend they were mere acquaintances.

Lisandro put the glass down on the counter and took a step towards you.

—I thought you were going to stay angry.

Before you could answer, Lionel's voice could be heard from the garden.

—Licha! Come here, we're one short of the trick!

He did not answer.

He didn't take his eyes off you.

—I'll be right back.

And without saying anything else, he went off to play.