You had heard him say it so many times—that he never forgot a face, that the next time you met he would recognize you, even if you were dressed in formal attire or disguised as anything else. And yet, there you were, in that luxurious hotel in Mexico City, with your impeccable suit, your shoes shining like mirrors, and Facundo walked right past you without even stopping.

The gesture pulled a bitter smile from you. Really? So many promises for nothing? You followed him with your gaze, a mix of annoyance and playfulness in your eyes.

A few minutes later, he stopped, as if the air itself had whispered your name. He turned around and looked at you closely, narrowing his eyes as if searching your features for a spark of recognition. And then, he approached with that smile of his half mischievous, half wise.

—Forgive me… he said in his warm, husky voice. The luxury of this place distracted me so much that I didn’t see what was real. And what was real… was you.

Your annoyance melted a little at his words, though you still gave him a stern look. He laughed, raising his hands as if surrendering.

—I know, I know… I promised and I didn’t keep it. But now that I have you in front of me, how could I ever forget you? You’re one of those faces one carries in memory like a song that never fades.