The day’s sweet weariness still lingered over us as we waited in the hotel’s elegant dining room; the chandeliers cast sparkling reflections across the glassware. My parents were absorbed in their own worlds; my father brimming with excitement at seeing an old friend, while my mother sat with graceful impatience. My brother Máximo fidgeted restlessly in his chair, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The formal air of the holiday felt stifling, as if it had taken something from us.

When the large wooden door finally opened, the family that entered seemed to fill the room with their energy. Yet my attention narrowed to a single figure—Hector Fort.

“This is my son, Hector,” my father’s friend introduced proudly; his name rang in my ears like music. He was tall, self-assured, but it was his sharp, intelligent eyes that captivated me. When they met mine, it felt as if time itself had stopped.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said in a soft, accented voice, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” I managed to say, my voice trembling slightly. His touch was unexpectedly warm.

Throughout dinner, Hector remained quietly magnetic; he spoke little, but when he did, all eyes turned toward him. Mine kept drifting to him—his posture, the way his hands rested lightly on the table, and the fleeting glances he sent my way.

At one point, my father turned to the group. “We’ve rented a boat for tomorrow,” he said. “Care to join us for some fresh sea air?”

Hector’s eyes met mine once more, a spark of curiosity and silent excitement passing between us.