Chapter 1
Italy – Positano, Amalfi Coast
A week passed, and Clara was still the same: boring days and a killing routine.
Sleeping until noon, then long hours on her phone, between sarcastic replies to her followers and stories that tried to look exciting but were, in truth, made of frustration.
Everything was fake these days… even her smile.
She missed Madrid, the sound of the streets, the different parties, her friends, and the loud music.
All those plans were cancelled before they began.
And every time she tried to adapt… she failed.
She completely refused to go out with her family or spend more than fifteen minutes with them.
Her relationship with them wasn’t usually bad, but this summer was different.
Since her family – especially her father, Martín Monteiro – decided that “a change of atmosphere” was necessary, and that the summer vacation must be spent together as a family.
To her father, Spain was chaos, phones were a distraction, and his daughter’s friends? A real threat.
Her mother agreed with him, so they decided to spend their vacation in Italy, far from everything that might disturb their peace.
As for her?
Italy was a beautiful place… for photos.
But living there? Something completely different.
She didn’t like quiet Italy at all.
Her current state didn’t please her family, so they always tried to pull her back into their circle… to no avail.
---
One afternoon, Clara woke up feeling sluggish.
She lay on her bed, looking at the open balcony and the curtains that moved with light breezes of wind.
Before her day – which was almost over – even started, she already hated it.
She sat up lazily, knowing she was the only one in the house.
Her family, as usual, had left in the morning and would return about an hour after she woke up.
She went to the kitchen without even washing up – she wasn’t in the mood for anything, so why bother?
She ate the cold breakfast her mother had left her and started browsing her phone.
As usual, her followers wouldn’t stop asking questions and begging her to share every moment of her trip to Italy.
But she lied to them and told them she preferred to enjoy the calm.
While she wandered between profiles, a post caught her attention – a girl learning how to sew dolls, flowers, and other cute things.
She liked the idea… true, she knew nothing about handmade crafts, but she decided to learn.
Anything… just to change her boring life.
Some of her usual excitement came back.
She went to the bathroom, showered, wore light clothes, and left the house.
She started asking around about stores for sewing supplies, until a kind man guided her to one, and with enthusiasm, she bought everything her eyes fell upon.
While she was returning, her friend Julia called her.
She sat in a seaside restaurant and answered the video call.
Julia wasn’t alone – Marina was with her. As soon as they saw her, they shouted with longing:
“Clara! We miss you. Spain is nothing without you!”
Clara smiled at them and replied with nostalgia,
“And Italy is nothing without you two… I miss you so much. How is everyone?”
Julia answered, “Same as always… except Lamis confessed to Frank yesterday in front of everyone.”
Clara put her hand on her mouth, stopping a scream, and replied with shock:
“So bold! She still hasn’t given up? Did he reject her?”
Julia answered, while Marina was busy with her phone:
“Prepare yourself for the shock… he didn’t say anything. He just took Russell and kissed her, and…”
Clara screamed, but swallowed it when she remembered she was in a public place, and whispered:
“Russell? You mean Russell the bookworm?!”
“Yes! And imagine, when he kissed her… she slapped him in the face and left angrily!”
She gasped again, and this time the people around heard her and stared at her strangely.
She didn’t care, and said to Julia:
“I should have been there! I would have recorded every moment.”
Then she sighed:
“I want to go back… stupid Italy.”
Marina quickly interrupted:
“You must come back! Andrés returned yesterday. He asked about you! Girl, he becomes more handsome every day.”
Clara straightened as soon as she heard the name.
Andrés? Didn’t he tell her last year it was his last year in Spain?
She liked him… but didn’t think beyond friendship.
It was only last year she managed to get closer to him… and that was on his last day.
“I didn’t think he would remember me.”
“Who wouldn’t remember you? Clara Monteiro, the party fairy everyone wishes to be friends with!”
Clara laughed at her friend’s comment, but quickly shocked them with the truth:
“That’s in Spain… but in Italy? No one knows me.”
Julia said in surprise:
“You haven’t made friends yet?”
She shook her head in boredom, so Marina screamed:
“Not even a boyfriend?!”
“I haven’t met anyone yet.”
Her shock softened and Marina replied while going back to her phone,
“So the problem is you haven't socialized yet.”
Then Julia said:
“Socialize with people! Your charm still works, just try.”
“I don’t think there are parties. Sergio purposely chose a quiet place… and I don’t want new friends. I’ll return to Spain in the end.”
“Stupid Sergio,” Julia said in annoyance.
Marina interrupted:
“A handsome stupid.”
Julia replied to her with boredom:
“Everyone you look at becomes handsome in your eyes!”
Then she looked at Clara and said:
“I’m going to hang up. Take care of yourself, and socialize a little… I don’t want you lonely when you come back.”
Clara smiled, blew a kiss in the air, and hung up.
While she was sipping her juice, a confident man approached her.
In Italian, he said: “You look Spanish… welcome to Italy, beautiful.”
She looked at him coldly, cursing him inside.
She said in English:
“I don’t speak Italian.”
Half a lie, just to push him away.
She stood to leave, but he grabbed a strand of her hair and said:
“Don’t worry… I’ll teach you, it’s ea—”
Before he finished, Clara was pulled by her arm strongly.
She turned, about to scream…
But fell silent when she saw who it was: Sergio, her older brother.
She touched her shoulder that hurt from the pull.
She carried her bag and headed to her mother and her sister Sol.
Sergio said nothing. The man left quickly, thinking Clara was the one who pulled him.
On their way home, Sol wouldn’t stop talking:
“Did you know that if a fish gets sad… it dies?”
Clara answered as she wore her sunglasses:
“Just like us. But slower.”
Sol laughed, and the mother laughed to lighten the mood.
As for Sergio… he looked at her for a long moment.
He didn’t understand her.
She didn’t try to understand him.
The respect between them was fragile, like smoke about to disappear.
He saw her as shallow.
She saw him as a chain.
They hadn’t shouted at each other since arriving in Italy, but the silent wars were fiercer than any words.
---
On that very evening, when everyone went out on one of their usual walks, Clara told them she had a headache and needed rest.
But the truth?
She just wanted to stay alone and try the sewing she wanted to learn.
She sat and tried to focus, but after only an hour… she got bored.
It wasn’t as fun as she imagined. She didn’t even have the desire anymore.
She looked at herself in the mirror – she no longer saw her face as she knew it.
She opened her phone, flipped through photos, and stopped at an old one of herself on a beach in Spain wearing a white dress and dancing.
She laughed. Then suddenly stood up.
She opened the closet, took out a white silk dress she had never worn. She left it slightly open at the back, sprayed some perfume, and wore her golden sandals.
She brushed her hair with her fingers only, and went down the stairs lightly.
She wanted to enjoy… to change the air around her.
---
The beach at that time was almost empty, filled with soft light.
She played one of her favorite Spanish songs, put the earphones in her ears, and started walking.
Every step looked like a hesitant dance.
Then… she began to move.
Her arms first, then her feet, then everything in her.
She was dancing. Freely.
As if she was pushing something out of her chest.
---
On the other side of the beach, a young man was sitting on an old wooden chair near a rock.
He held a small notebook and a pencil.
Julian Kraus.
An artist who lost his connection with colors a year ago.
He worked in the morning at a store that sold art supplies and gifts, and came to the beach in the evenings – trying to draw.
But the sea no longer inspired him.
Nor the sky.
Even the people passing by became just fleeting shadows.
But she was not like the rest.
A girl… dancing, and her white dress moved with the wind as if playing a melody.
Her messy brown hair fell on her back and she moved lightly.
He couldn’t clearly see her features, but he saw enough.
His hand began drawing – without control.
---
Then she turned.
She looked at him.
Stopped.
In a moment, her foot slipped and she fell into a light wave.
He ran toward her without thinking.
“Are you okay?” he said, helping her up.
She was angrier than she was scared.
“Were you… watching me?” she said it like an accusation.
He was confused and stepped back.
“No… I was just drawing…”
She looked at him, her head wet and her shoulders dripping water.
“Drawing… and your eyes were on me?”
He said coldly, trying to hold himself:
“I saw you for a second, because you looked… crazy.”
She stood up, and angrily answered him:
“You made me laugh! Are you trying to convince me you are not one of those followers crazy about my beauty?”
He couldn’t hide his laughter.
Her words, her look, her way… everything made him nervous.
“Who are you? The lost Princess Anastasia? Or maybe… Diana?”
His sarcasm and laughter increased her anger.
And because she wasn’t very good at Italian, she held her dress and her earphones and shouted at him in Spanish before turning and leaving:
"Ohhh non mi conosci? Ecco perché sei infelice... un uomo che nessuna donna vorrebbe avere nella sua vita.
Grazie a Dio non mi conosci "
(Ohhh you don’t know me? That’s why you are miserable… a man no woman wishes to have in her life.
Thank God you don’t know me!)
She turned and walked away, the water sticking to her skin as if refusing to leave her.
As for Julian, he stayed frozen in his place.
His hands still holding the notebook.
He didn’t understand a word she said, but understood her tone.
She was angry.
Proud.
Enchanting.
And annoying.
All this… in less than a minute.
He looked at his notebook.
At the face he began to draw.
At the lines that weren’t finished.
Then he closed it slowly and sighed…
“I think I just drew… the beginning of a disaster.”
---
End of chapter.
