Life goes on

Breakups are always awful, but Micaela knew her last long-distance relationship was doomed from the start. “Out of sight, out of mind”—it sounded like the perfect plan for someone with barely any free time to date, socialize, or search for true love. At 25, she worked as a Data Analyst while finishing her last year of Engineering. Work and study had consumed her daily life. After two years of a long-distance relationship full of illusions—yet where, indeed, “happiness was shared among four”—she decided to refocus solely on her career and studies, abruptly shutting down her social media and vanishing from cyberspace.

One Saturday night in January 2013, Micaela had promised herself a quiet outing. She wasn’t in the mood for adventures, but her friend Patricia insisted on dragging her to a gathering organized by one of those famous Facebook groups.

“Let’s go for a bit. If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” Patricia said.

With a beer in hand and the music humming in the background, Micaela was convinced the night would be just another entry in her routine. What she didn’t know was that this night would change everything.

They met at a shopping center. Punctuality was sacred to Micaela—though, truthfully, it was fueled by her torturous anxiety, always pushing her to arrive early and avoid surprises. She had agreed to meet Patricia at 5:00 pm, but it was already 5:30. For the third time, she checked her watch and sighed deeply, trying to calm down. In the distance, she finally saw Patricia rushing toward her, accompanied by a girl Micaela had never seen before.

The girl had long, messy brown hair, mischievous eyes, a colorful flowing skirt, and a denim jacket that barely shielded her from the evening breeze. Micaela immediately knew this was Patricia’s friend, the one joining them that night. “Perfect, late—and in a group, no less,” she thought, forcing a neutral expression as they approached.

“Mica! Sorry for being late!” Patricia smiled apologetically. “Things got a little complicated.”

Micaela frowned slightly but swallowed her sarcastic remarks.

“No worries,” she replied with a forced smile. “Shall we go?”

The new girl stepped forward, extending her hand with a wide grin, completely ignoring the tension.

“Hi, I’m Bárbara. I promise next time we’ll be on time. My dad always makes it hard for me to leave the house.”

“Micaela,” she answered curtly. “Let’s go?”

Patricia sighed in relief as they headed to the event. Inside, dim lights and soft music created a relaxed atmosphere, but Micaela still felt uneasy. What kind of gathering is this? she wondered. The bar was filled with teenagers laughing, shouting, and snapping endless pictures. The chaos made her feel out of place.

After enduring a round of shallow small talk—What school are you from? Where do you live? Do you have Facebook?—Micaela slipped away to a quieter corner. She stayed silent, observing from the shadows.

Patricia and Bárbara, however, thrived in the chaos. From afar, Micaela watched them greet an endless string of acquaintances with hugs and laughter—something that had always felt out of reach for her. Minutes crawled by; socializing just wasn’t her thing.

Whenever Bárbara glanced her way, Micaela pretended to be glued to her phone. She didn’t want attention; she didn’t want anyone to notice she didn’t fit in. But her discomfort was obvious, and eventually, Patricia came to pull her out of her corner.

“Mica, come join us!” she cheered, tugging her toward a growing circle of friends. “You’re missing all the fun!”

Micaela prepared an excuse to leave without being rude, but before she could, Bárbara surprised her with a knowing smile.

“Are you bored?” she asked quietly, just for Micaela to hear.

Caught, Micaela shrugged with a mix of relief and embarrassment.

“A little,” she admitted. “This isn’t really my scene…”

Bárbara went back to chatting with the group, but her eyes never left Micaela. Meanwhile, Micaela couldn’t help but think: What’s with this girl? Why is she so loud? How old is she? Why does she smoke so much? Is she the popular one here or what?

By 9:00 pm, the place was closing. Ever energetic, Patricia suggested moving to another bar downtown, famous for music and cocktails. Micaela hesitated—it was already too crowded here, how would she survive downtown? But before she could object, Bárbara noticed her doubt.

“Come on, Mica!” Patricia urged, already calling for the check.

Micaela opened her mouth to decline, but Bárbara jumped in with a persuasive smile.

“If you get bored, tell me and we’ll leave together. Deal?”

Startled, Micaela didn’t know why she agreed.

Outside, the group struggled to find taxis. When one finally arrived, there wasn’t enough room for everyone—someone had to sit on someone else’s lap.

Patricia, ever the joker, quipped:

“Barbs, sit on Micaela’s lap! She won’t break, right, Mica?”

Without hesitation, Bárbara obeyed. Micaela tried to hide her discomfort, but her heart raced as Bárbara settled softly onto her lap. The sudden closeness, the warmth of her body, and the sweet, floral scent of her perfume overwhelmed her.

Trying not to move, Micaela sat stiffly while Bárbara chuckled nervously.

“Tell me if I’m bothering you. Bad idea cramming into one taxi, huh?”

“Relax,” Micaela managed with a smile. “I can still feel my legs.”

Bárbara tilted her head playfully, eyes locked on Micaela’s.

When they finally reached the bar, Bárbara climbed off her lap, leaving behind her perfume like a ghost. For the first time that night, Micaela thought—maybe this wasn’t such a bad outing after all.

At the entrance, the bouncer asked for IDs. Bárbara froze—she had none. After a failed attempt to talk their way in, the group was forced to leave. Frustrated, Bárbara lit a cigarette outside.

Micaela watched, torn between annoyance and empathy. Finally, she stepped forward:

“I know a place five minutes from here. No IDs required. Music’s good too.”

She offered her hand. Bárbara hesitated, then took it, dropping her half-smoked cigarette.

“I didn’t know you were underage… and smoking like a bankrupt chimney?”

Bárbara burst out laughing.

“I’m 17–18 soon. It’s not a big deal. Thanks for saving me, though. Didn’t want to ruin the night.”

“Don’t worry,” Micaela smiled, squeezing her hand before letting go. “This place is better anyway. I think.”

They walked side by side, the cool night breeze tangling their hair. The silence between them felt natural.

“I didn’t expect the ‘serious one’ to be so good at improvising,” Bárbara teased.

“You don’t know me well enough to put labels on me,” Micaela shot back with a sly smile.

By the time Rihanna’s We Found Love blared through the new bar, Bárbara was already twirling on the dance floor, singing at the top of her lungs, arms raised like she owned the night. Micaela stayed in her corner, unable to look away.

Later, when Bárbara needed the restroom, Micaela offered to go with her. Then again. And again. Each time, it felt strangely natural to accompany her.

With each song, each laugh, each drink, the walls around Micaela began to crumble. By midnight, they were dancing together, intoxicated not just by alcohol but by the spark igniting between them.

Near closing time, the heat inside the bar was suffocating. Micaela escaped toward the bathroom to cool off, and this time Bárbara insisted on going with her.

The bathroom was surprisingly empty, the music outside thumping through the walls like a distant heartbeat. Micaela leaned back against the cold tiles, trying to catch her breath. Bárbara, with her usual impulsive confidence, stepped closer. Their eyes locked—intense, searching—neither of them saying a word.

Before Micaela could even process the moment, Bárbara closed the distance and kissed her. It wasn’t careful or planned; it was fast, chaotic, and utterly real. Their lips crashed together in a clumsy rhythm, equal parts curiosity and desire. For a few suspended seconds, the world outside ceased to exist—the music, the lights, the waiting line beyond the door—everything dissolved into that kiss.

Then, suddenly—BANG, BANG, BANG. Fists pounded against the door. Voices shouted impatiently. Startled, they pulled apart, breathless, eyes wide, hearts racing. Bárbara bit back a nervous smile while Micaela’s pulse hammered in her ears.

They left the bathroom in silence, ignoring the glares of the long line outside. Neither said a word, but both knew it: something had shifted. That impulsive, messy kiss was more than just a moment—it was the beginning of something they couldn’t yet name.