The diner feels warm in a comforting way. The air carries the smell of grilled steak, butter, and fresh bread, mixing with soft music playing somewhere above us. Glasses clink. People laugh at nearby tables. Everything feels ordinary except for the way my attention keeps returning to Alma.
She has been staring at her phone for several minutes. Her fingers move quickly, typing and deleting, typing again. Her expression keeps changing. Sometimes serious, sometimes almost frustrated. Whoever she is talking to clearly matters.
I try not to watch her, but I fail.
Mother clears her throat gently. "So, Alma. What do you do apart from studying?"
Alma looks up immediately, her eyes bright with excitement. She looks like someone eager to share good news. She straightens slightly in her seat before answering.
"I work part time at Lumen. I'm a social media marketer and also a receptionist."
Mother smiles warmly. "That is wonderful. I hope they pay you well. Your parents and I go way back, you know. I understand how hard it is to get what you want when Hector is always keeping an eye on you."
The moment Hector's name is mentioned, Alma's reaction is small but unmistakable. Her smile pauses. Her shoulders stiffen. Anyone else would miss it, but I notice everything about her.
I know what her father tried to do. I know why his name carries weight.
Mother does not notice. She lowers her gaze to her plate, happily cutting into her T bone steak.
Alma shifts her eyes toward me. She realizes I am watching her. Almost immediately she looks down at her wine glass and drinks the rest in one quick motion.
Lucas breaks the silence. "Do you want more wine?"
"Yes," Alma says without hesitation.
I reach for the bottle beside me and refill her glass. A small smile forms on my face without permission. Mother raises hers too, asking for another pour.
Lucas looks at me with that suspicious expression he uses when he thinks he has discovered something.
Mother shakes her head. "No, Lucas. You are still young for wine, baby boy. And behave yourselves. Not in front of Alma."
Lucas grabs his iPad and types quickly. My phone vibrates.
I see the way you are looking at Alma.
I send him a warning glance and reply with an Ariana Grande sticker that simply says well.
He grins before announcing loudly, "I do not want wine. I want juice. Fill it up, waiter."
"Not until you say please," I answer.
"Oh please," he says dramatically, speaking in a fake sweet voice. "Do it for the angel of your dreams."
I give him a look that promises revenge later. Mother laughs. Alma laughs too, her laughter soft and genuine.
Then she says something that catches me off guard.
"Why don't you call the angel of your dreams to join us?"
Everyone turns to look at me. Heat rises to my face instantly. I look at Alma helplessly, wishing she understood how wrong she is.
There is no angel.
There has never been anyone else.
My heart wants only her. I hate how easily she talks to other men. I hate how close she seems to Gabriel. Sometimes the jealousy surprises even me. Sometimes I just want Gabriel gone far away from this town and Alma, I just don't know how to do that.
"Let's change the topic," I say quietly.
The conversation moves on, but my thoughts stay tangled.
The night passes in laughter and wine. Mother and Alma talk endlessly, their voices growing softer as the alcohol settles in. Lucas becomes quieter, leaning back in his chair. Starts playing games on his iPad.
When the afternoon brunch ends, I pay the bill and guide everyone outside. The air feels cooler now. The security guard helps me settle Alma into the back seat of the car. She is already half asleep.
I drop Mother and Lucas at home first. As I help Mother to her room, she holds my hand gently.
"Take care of Alma," she murmurs.
I nod because there is nothing else to say. Taking care of Alma has never felt like a responsibility. It feels natural.
When I return to the car, Alma is sleeping peacefully in the back seat. Streetlights pass over her face, lighting her features for a moment before fading again. I open the door quietly and place my jacket over her legs so she will not feel cold.
I start driving and lower the volume of the music. Taylor Swift plays softly through the speakers. I never paid much attention to her songs before, but Alma loves them. That is reason enough for me.
If she wakes up, I want her to feel comfortable.
I stop at a small eatery and buy arroz con pollo. Then I notice a nearby shop and decide to buy chocolate milk and Conguitos. I ask them to pack everything carefully in a basket. She will need food when she wakes up.
Back at the car, Alma stretches slightly in her sleep before settling again. My heart jumps before I even realize it. From the passenger seat I grab one of Daniel's sweaters that he forgot in my car. I fold it gently and place it beneath her head like a pillow.
I drive slower than usual.
I do not want the moment to end.
When we reach her apartment building, I notice two women entering with Pilar. Then my eyes land on Juan's car parked nearby. A quiet sigh escapes me.
I open the back door and help Alma sit up.
She lets out a soft sleepy sound that makes me smile instantly. I cannot help it. Being near her always does this to me.
She blinks awake. "Something smells really nice."
"I bought you food for when you wake up."
Her face brightens and she hugs me suddenly. I freeze for a second before gently returning the gesture.
"Come on," I say softly. "Let's get you to bed."
She groans. "Camilla is going to be mad. I forgot to get her the book she wanted."
"Do not worry, princesa. You can get it tomorrow. Tonight you rest."
She smiles sleepily. "I love it when you call me that."
I pretend not to react. Some truths are safer kept silent.
I hand her the basket and she examines the yellow wrapping with delight. "Muchas gracias, señor."
"De nada."
She hesitates before asking, "Can you stay for a bit? I do not want to interrupt whatever romantic situation is happening upstairs."
I sigh softly and agree.
Inside the apartment we find exactly what I expected. Camilla and Juan sit very close on the couch watching something on Netflix.
"How many times did you make out tonight?" I ask jokingly.
They both jump in surprise. Camilla laughs and runs to hug me.
"Gael, I missed you."
Juan shakes his head. "I did not know you were coming."
Alma greets him quietly before disappearing to freshen up. Camilla immediately reaches for the basket.
"Hands off," Alma calls from down the hallway. "Those are mine."
While the girls talk in the kitchen, Juan and I sit on the couch discussing nothing important. Time passes easily.
About thirty minutes later Alma returns.
She wears oversized sweats and her hair is tied into a loose messy bun. She looks comfortable, soft, completely herself. No effort. No performance.
She moves straight to the kitchen and begins serving food for everyone before even thinking of herself.
That is who Alma is.
She would rather go hungry than let someone else feel left out.
She places the plates on the table and turns on Titanic. As she stands there adjusting the remote, I notice the faint scent around her.
Vanilla. Soft and warm.
She smells like someone you could spend forever beside without realizing how much time has passed.
And in that quiet moment, watching her laugh with her friends, I realize something I already know but never say out loud.
Loving Alma feels as natural as breathing. Her voice, her smile her body everything about her is all unique.
We are halfway through the movie when someone knocks on the door.
The sound echoes through the apartment, cutting through the soft dialogue from the television. Alma looks up immediately, curiosity lighting her face.
"I'll get it," she says, already standing.
She walks toward the door barefoot, her oversized sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder. I watch without meaning to.
She opens the door.
And then her face lights up.
"Daniel!"
My cousin stands there leaning casually against the frame, wearing a navy blue shirt and beige shorts like he just stepped out of a summer advertisement. His smile is effortless, confident in the way people become when life rarely tells them no.
Beside him stands a girl slightly shorter than him.
Blonde hair falling softly around her shoulders. A short pink dress that moves gently as she shifts her weight. She is strikingly beautiful in a quiet way, the kind that makes people look twice without understanding why.
Daniel lifts a bouquet of yellow tulips toward Alma.
"For my favorite person," he says.
Alma gasps softly, taking the flowers with both hands like they are something fragile and precious. Her entire face brightens, joy spreading across her features so naturally that it makes me smile too.
"Daniel, they're beautiful," she says, pulling him into a quick hug.
Then he produces another bouquet.
Pink roses.
"For Camilla," he adds.
"Hey, Don't i get a unique name?" Camilla looks at him
"For my ride or die." Daniel says again while handing the bouquet to Camilla.
Camilla practically runs forward. "You are officially my favorite human being."
She takes the roses, already smiling like her entire week has improved.
The two girls disappear into the kitchen, laughing as they search for vases. I hear water running, soft chatter filling the apartment. Alma keeps glancing at the tulips as she arranges them, clearly unable to hide how happy they make her.
Daniel and his girlfriend step inside and settle into the living room.
Juan and I exchange a look.
It takes exactly three seconds before we begin.
"Well, well," Juan says, leaning back. "Daniel finally brings proof that women actually like him."
Daniel rolls his eyes. "I regret coming already."
I grin. "We were starting to think you invented girlfriends for storytelling purposes."
He throws a cushion at me. I dodge easily.
Meanwhile Alma and Camilla return, guiding the girl toward the couch.
"This is Anna," Alma says warmly.
The girl smiles. "Anna Hernandez."
Her accent carries soft Spanish tones. There is warmth in her voice that immediately makes everyone comfortable.
"I'm from Lima," she adds. "Peru."
Alma's eyes brighten instantly. "You're Latina too?"
Anna nods, laughing softly. Within seconds the three girls fall into easy conversation, switching between English and Spanish without effort. Camilla asks questions enthusiastically while Alma listens with genuine interest, leaning closer as if she wants to understand every detail.
I watch Alma as she talks to Anna.
She has this way of making people feel seen. Like they matter immediately.
It is dangerous how easily she gives pieces of herself away.
Soon the movie is forgotten.
Someone suggests board games and suddenly the living room transforms. The coffee table fills with cards, dice, and scattered game pieces. Everyone squeezes closer together, knees bumping, laughter growing louder.
Daniel cheats shamelessly.
Juan exposes him every single round.
Camilla becomes overly competitive.
Anna laughs so hard she nearly knocks over the game board twice.
And Alma.
Alma laughs freely, head tilted back, tulips visible behind her in the vase like small pieces of sunlight resting in the room.
At one point her hand brushes mine as we reach for the same card.
Neither of us pulls away immediately.
It is such a small moment that no one else notices.
But for me, time pauses.
I realize then that nights like this are dangerous. Simple nights. Warm nights. Nights where she looks happy and safe and surrounded by people who care about her.
Because they make me imagine a future I am not sure I am allowed to want.
And as Alma laughs again, glowing under the soft apartment lights, I find myself thinking the same impossible thought I always do.
If happiness had a sound, it would be her laughter filling a room.