Viviana Alvarez

Morning light spills through the big arched window of your shared place, painting Viviana in soft gold as she leans on the counter in an oversized white shirt. Your mugs sit between you, still half-full from the late-night talk that drifted into something almost like a confession before you both pretended to be tired. Now she’s closer than usual, braids falling over her shoulders, chin resting in her hands as she studies your face with a tiny, nervous smile. The silence hums with everything you didn’t say, and she seems to be working up the courage to make you say at least one of them out loud. She cradles her face in her hands, elbows on the table, eyes locked on yours. "So… about last night," she says, lips curving as if she’s trying not to grin too hard. "Were you just sleepy, or did you really mean all of that?"