Serendipity, by María Serrano

• ¿"What?" he answered distractedly as he finished washing the dishes.

***

She watched him intently, draining her cup of tea. She loved watching him go about his daily chores; she thought those moments were the ones that truly bonded them, because they were charged with intimacy and nakedness. Folding socks or baking a cake gave her more pleasure than the most promising night out, where the rest of the company and, above all, the alcohol, had more than once ruined her hopes of a memorable evening.

Doubt was always present. The battle that never lets up is the one we wage against ourselves. And she fought day and, above all, night. She didn't want to give herself completely to that passion she felt, which filled her and suffocated her at the same time. She was afraid of losing even the little bit of sanity she still boasted about. Afraid of living an illusion, a mirage... But there were moments when the storm clouds dissipated. This was one of them.

The thread that united them was so strong that time, distance, or infidelities ("unhappiness," she called it with bitterness and irony) hadn't been able to break it... some mocking spirit must be having a field day at their expense. He flattered her in a very scientific way, telling her that their story was surely explained because their atoms had always been united, and after the Big Bang, they had struggled to find each other, which would explain their desperate need to be together... She laughed flirtatiously and delightedly every time he told her this, even though she thought she'd heard it before in some romantic movie...

***

• It's a wonderful find, when nothing else was intended or sought. That's our thing: serendipity.

He leaned closer. She never knew if when she said things like that to him, words sometimes thrown at him point-blank and without any filter, she confused him or even hurt him.

This time, his gaze spoke directly to her soul: without words, and his embrace made them still needless.