Luna rushed into the restroom and turned on the tap.
Cold water splashed against her face.
Her hands were trembling.
Tears began falling, not because of the mojito.
Because she had seen him.
She looked at herself in the mirror, breathing unevenly.
"Raffy…" she whispered softly.
"Was it you…?"
Her hand slowly covered her mouth.
And then the truth settled in her heart.
"It was him…"
Tears flowed freely now. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just deep pain finally breaking the silence she had carried for years.
She leaned slightly against the sink, trying to calm herself.
She had prepared herself for many things in life.
But not for this.
Not like this.
Without makeup, after washing her face, her features looked softer, raw, real, vulnerable. The kind of beauty that comes from emotion, not appearance.
After a few minutes, she wiped her tears.
She wore her black mask again.
Composed.
Controlled.
Professional.
She stepped out of the restroom and walked quickly toward her stall, her eyes searching the hall.
And then
She stopped.
Raffy was standing right in front of her.
He looked calm. Unaware. But somehow careful.
"I'm really sorry about earlier," he said gently.
She nodded. "It's okay."
Her voice was steady, even though her heart was not.
"Do you want to buy something?" she asked formally.
He looked at the display.
"Yes. That bookmark."
She picked up the sunflower bookmark.
"Oh… that is a good choice."
He looked at it carefully.
He lowered his voice slightly.
"It's Luna for me."
Her fingers froze for a second.
"Who's Luna?" she asked, pretending not to know.
He smiled softly.
"My life."
A single tear escaped her eyes, but the mask hid most of her expression.
"You must love her very much," she said quietly.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "But I haven't met her for a long time."
Her heart broke and healed at the same time.
She forced a small smile.
"Sir, your name?"
He looked at her politely.
"Rafael Xavier Murillo."
The full name hit her like a wave.
She handed him the bookmark carefully.
"Thank you," he said.
He turned and walked away.
And she stood there, watching him leave again.
That night, Luna went home.
And for the first time in years
She let herself cry for what she had missed.
She knows.
He doesn't.
He still calls her "my life."
She hides behind a mask, literally and emotionally.