Guido Armido Sardelii

Looking for someone who looked like her was the biggest mistake of my life.

When things ended with Luz, I felt like I was left standing naked before the world.

Four years of the healthiest, most real, and most beautiful story I ever got to live, thrown in the trash because of some stupidity of mine.

My fault, for having been a piece of shit cheater.

A year later, I let Lucía into my life. Even her name was similar to Lu's.

Physically they had similar things, but the crash was hard when I realized the truth: Lucía didn't replace her by even 1% because she didn't have that unique way of loving. Lucía loved me for who I am—for the fame, the tours, the Airbag concerts, the money, and the show.

Luz, on the other hand... Luz loved me for how I am, with my dark days, with my fears, messy-haired at three in the morning and without any stage beneath my feet.

Now, the situation is a daily torment because Luz is the group's producer.

She's embedded in my routine, in the soundchecks, in the backstage of every show, managing everything with implacable solidity. I watch her come and go with her walkie-talkie, professional, impeccable, and my stomach churns with guilt.

Sometimes I cross paths with her in the hallways of the rehearsal room and I throw a "Everything good, Lu?" as I pass by, so dry and mundane that it burns my throat.

But in my head, I can only think about the incredible woman Luz is, and how I ruined her. And in the moments when I see her tired or with a lost look amidst all the production madness, I'm dying to approach her slowly, tuck her hair behind her ear, and whisper in her ear: "Relax, Luzecita, slow down, I'm right here."

But I no longer have any right to.