Callum almost smiled. Almost. He was fairly sure Leif wasn’t actually going to do it.
He waved him goodbye, but just before Leif reached the door, Callum stopped him.
“So… Asma doesn’t know?”
“That I talked to you about a sabbatical? No.” Leif shook his head. “I’ve no idea if she’s realized how miserable you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like she’s always been a bit self-absorbed.”
Callum nodded slowly. As much as he cared about Asma, he knew Leif wasn’t entirely wrong. She was an only child, career-driven, an overachiever who had started building her company while they were still at Harvard, and turned it into something massive in just a few years. Lamina was her world. Because of that, she didn’t really see beyond it.
And yet… he couldn’t blame her.
But the problem wasn’t Asma. Or Leif. Or even Lamina.
It was him.
The realization settled heavily in his chest, uncomfortable and inescapable.
And somehow, even though the idea of a sabbatical sounded good—tempting, even—he couldn’t stop the questions from creeping in.
Who was he without Lamina? Without accounting? Who was he, really? And strangely, he wasn’t as afraid of the answer as he thought he’d be. Not like Alejandra would be.
Still… he hesitated.
33
ALEJANDRA
Tutto a puttane - Bresh
Once the doctortook off her sling, the scar on her shoulder was barely visible—thin, pale, almost unnoticeable—which felt like a fucking mockery, because what had resulted from that tiny scar had been life-altering for her.
“That’s it?” Alejandra let out, staring down at the faint line against her tanned skin.
“What did you expect?” Doctor González asked raising a brow
It was just the two of them in the office. Alejandra hadn’t wanted her parents or Carlos there. She didn’t want them seeing the hesitation, the doubt, the flicker of something ugly behind her eyes. She’d brushed them off easily enough, rolled her shoulders like it was nothing, like this was just another checkpoint on the way back to the water.
Back to surfing.
The thought alone tightened something deep in her stomach. A quiet, sick knot. She probably made a face, because the doctor tilted her head slightly.
“Some scars are more mental than physical, Alejandra.” Her voice was soft, coated in a kind of empathy that only made everything worse.
“What do you mean?” Alejandra almost snapped, the words sharper than she intended. “I’m fine. Completely fine.”
Spoiler. She wasn’t. Not even close.
From the wide windows of Dr. González’s office, she could see the streets of Seville bathed in warm afternoon light. Normally, that view grounded her. It reminded her of home, of who she was outside the water, outside competition, outside everything. Today, it felt like a personal attack.
“Your shoulder is recovering very well—faster than we expected, in fact. But I sense that there’s something else we need to address.”
Alejandra looked away, jaw tightening.
“You’ve never been a scared little girl,” Dr. González continued. They’ve known each other for years. Every time she had to have a check up, they called her. “You’ve defied waves that would terrify the average person. You’ve faced storms, and you’ve won. But now…” She paused. “Now you need help getting back to that version of yourself.”
That version of yourself.
The words echoed uncomfortably.
