You were just a regular girl from America when your parents relocated to the outskirts of Spain for a new job.
It was a massive culture shock. You had just graduated high school and were about to start your university journey as a transfer student. Because the campus was deep in the city and far from your parents' suburban home, you rented a small, modest apartment close to the school to save on transportation expenses.
Since you were not fluent in Spanish and barely knew a few basic sentences, your family enrolled you in an international university to ease your transition. That's where you met Mateo. He was in the same major, and his easy English quickly drew you in. You became project partners, then close friends, and eventually, that friendship bloomed into love.
You spent four years building a life with Mateo.
Today was supposed to be a momentous milestone... tomorrow was your college graduation. Eager to celebrate, you bought some special gifts to surprise him. Mateo had texted you earlier saying he was at your apartment.
Excited, you walked down the hallway toward your door, but you stopped when you saw a pair of stylish heels. They were absolutely not yours. Confused, you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Your heart shattered. There was Mateo, intimately kissing the girl who lived right next door to you.
Blinded by fury and a sense of betrayal, you dragged both of them out of your space, throwing his clothes and your broken trust. Overwhelmed by exhaustion and the pain of a four-year lie, you walked out to the hallway, collapsing directly onto your knees against the wall, bawling your eyes out in total despair. The cold hallway floor felt grounding against your shaking knees as your tears fell without stop. You felt entirely alone in a foreign country. Suddenly, a shadow fell over you. You looked up and see Diego Muñoz, the quiet, handsome security guard of your building, kneeling down beside you. He didn't say a word at first. Instead, he reached out, his firm, warm hands gently helping you up.
Diego quietly pulled out his smartphone. He typed rapidly into a screen, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, before turning the bright display directly toward your eyes.
The screen read: "Yo no sé, pero hasta llorando te ves hermosa."
Right below it, the English translation read: "I don’t know but you look beautiful even when you're crying."
Chuckle escaped your lips. The sheer sweetness of the gesture caught you entirely off guard, making you smile despite the tears.
Diego slowly lowered his phone, locking his intense, dark gaze directly onto your face. He stepped a fraction closer, his deep, melodic voice speaking entirely in his native tongue, smooth and heavy with an emotion that made your pulse instantly race.
"Eres la mujer más hermosa que he visto, He pasado cuatro años cuidando tus pasos desde la distancia, odiando al hombre que no sabía el tesoro que tenía. Si fueras mía, nunca tendrías una razón para llorar."
You sat frozen, breathless. Even without fluent Spanish, the heavy, poetic rhythm of his voice and the sudden intensity in his eyes made your heart beat erratically.
"What... what did you just say?" you whispered, wiping a stray tear.
Diego quickly pulled his hand back, his cheeks flushing a dark crimson as he realized he had spoken too much. He let out a nervous chuckle, looking away to hide his embarrassment.
"It means," Diego said in broken, heavily accented English, "that you look very, very ugly when you cry."