Aimee walked through the door of her family home, the familiar scent of her mother's sewing machine filling the air. Her mother was sitting at the dining table, carefully stitching a piece of fabric which was a top for Aimee. The soft hum of the machine accompanied her precise movements as she worked, her hands moving with the practiced skill of someone who had spent years sewing clothes.
Aimee couldn't help but smile as she approached her mother. She leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Hola mama (Hey Mum)," she greeted warmly, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Another tablecloth, Mum? Really?
Ana glanced up from her sewing machine, clearly trying to hold back a sigh. "It's for you sweetheart. You have been asking for a new top, and I thought it'd be nice to make it myself."
Aimee raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smile that was more dismissive than approving. "Right, but that's the thing, Mum. It's just... so basic. It's not exactly 'high fashion,' is it?" She waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at the fabric. "I mean, have you seen what the girls at school are wearing? DKNY, Miss Sixty, the kind of stuff that actually means something."
Her mother's hands paused for a moment, the hum of the sewing machine filling the silence. "Not everyone needs to wear designer clothes, Aimee. What matters is that it's made with love and care."
Her mother's hands froze, a small frown crossing her face. "Aimee, you know that you're in that school on a scholarship because of your brains, your hard work. Not because of what you wear
Aimee's lips twisted in annoyance. "Yes, and I'm grateful for the scholarship. But that doesn't mean I want to look like a broke kid every day. Everyone at school's wearing designer stuff. DKNY Miss Sixty—real fashion. Not whatever this is." She pointed again at the half-finished top.
Her mother's hands paused for a moment, the hum of the sewing machine filling the silence. "Not everyone needs to wear designer clothes, Aimee. What matters is that it's made with love and care."
Aimee rolled her eyes. "Love and care don't pay the bills, Mum. And they sure don't make you look like you've got your life together." She pushed herself off the doorframe and stepped closer, eyeing the top with distaste. "You know, instead of spending all your time on stuff like this, how about you just give me some Money? I'll buy the clothes I need. I'm not about to wear something that looks like it belongs in a thrift store."
The door creaked open as Maria stepped in from a long day at the kindergarten, tossing her bag onto the couch before greeting her mother.
"Mamá, I'm home!" Maria called out, her tone weary but warm.
Maria called, shedding her jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. She glanced over at Aimee, who was standing by the door, her arms crossed, looking as if a storm was about to break.
Ana smiled warmly. "How was work, mi hija?" she asked, her hands never stopping their careful stitching.
Maria sighed, taking a sip of water from the fridge before leaning against the counter. "Same as always. Kids running around, screaming, but at least I get to see them smile. She eyed Aimee, who was standing near the door, her arms crossed and looking as though she had just walked out of a storm. "What's going on with you? You look like you're about to explode."
Aimee rolled her eyes dramatically, clearly not in the mood for small talk. "You wouldn't understand," she muttered, her voice sharp. "You're happy with your little life, Maria.
Ana put down her needle and looked at Aimee, her eyes full of concern but also an unwavering love. "Aimee," she said gently, her voice firm, "I'll give you money to buy some clothes. But only because I know it means a lot to you. But you must understand… your worth is not in what you wear, hija. It's in who you are inside."
Aimee's face immediately softened. Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she practically rushed to her mother, planting a kiss on her cheek. "¡Gracias, mamá! You're the best," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness, masking the true intention behind her words.
Maria, standing at the counter, crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. "Mamá, you spoil her too much. She's always looking for the next thing—always thinking she needs something more.
Ana's expression remained calm, though a hint of weariness touched her features. "Maria, she's still my daughter. I know she's difficult sometimes, but I love her. I want to give her the chance to experience life, even if it means making mistakes along the way."
Aimee ignored her sister's remarks, She stood there, her fingers tapping impatiently on her arms, before she finally spoke, her voice dripping with excitement.
"Mamá, you won't believe it! Claudia's boyfriend just flew in from Germany!" Aimee's words came out fast, like she was bursting to share the news.
Ana put down her sewing, smiling as she looked up. "Oh, that's wonderful! Claudia must be so happy."
Aimee nodded enthusiastically. "And guess what? He brought a friend with him. Carlos," she said, her voice rising with a touch of excitement. "And he's a doctor, Mamá!"
Maria raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her water as she looked between Aimee and Ana. There was a certain sparkle in Aimee's eyes that didn't go unnoticed by either of them.
But Aimee wasn't finished. She stepped closer, the excitement in her voice rising even higher. "And he brought a friend! His name is Carlos... and he's a doctor! A DOCTOR, MAMÁ!"
Maria's eyebrows shot up at the mention of Carlos. She exchanged a knowing look with Ana. "A doctor?" Maria repeated, her voice dripping with curiosity. "You seem awfully excited about this.
Aimee's eyes sparkled with the rush of new possibilities. "Well, of course, I'm excited! He's a doctor!" she said with a dramatic flair. "Do you know how impressive that is? And Claudia's boyfriend… he's just so perfect for her.
Ana's hands paused on the fabric, her brow furrowing slightly. "Aimee," she said slowly, her voice gentle but laced with concern, "You seem very... interested in this Carlos. Why?"
Aimee froze for a moment, caught off guard by her mother's perceptiveness. She forced a smile, trying to cover the rapid heartbeat that seemed to betray her every thought. "What do you mean, Mamá? I'm just saying... He's important. He's a doctor, for heaven's sake! Who wouldn't want to meet someone like that?" "He could be successful"
Ana's eyes darkened as she put down her sewing needle and looked directly at Aimee, her voice steady but full of worry. "Aimee... You've already been given the opportunity of a lifetime. You're at that school because of your intelligence, because of who you are, not because of who you know or what they can offer you. Do not lose sight of that.
Aimee clenched her fists, a fire igniting within her. "I'm not stupid, Mamá. But I'm not going to sit here forever and wait for something to happen. I want more! I deserve more!" she shouted, her voice filled with raw emotion. "I need to be someone who's noticed. Someone who's important. You don't get anywhere by just being 'good'—you need the right connections, the right people."
Maria shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips as she watched her sister.
Ana's expression softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "I love her, Maria. I just want her to understand that what she is inside is more important than all the riches and superficial things in the world.
Later that night, in the dim light of her room which she shared with her sister Maria, Aimee lay in her bed, her body frozen beneath the weight of her thoughts. The silence of the night seemed to amplify her racing heartbeat, her mind a whirlwind of questions, images, and feelings she couldn't escape. She stared up at the ceiling, as if the answer could be found in the cracks of the paint.
Who is he? she asked herself again, the question echoing in her mind like a song she couldn't forget. Carlos. His name alone sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes—dark, intense, like they could see into her soul—haunted her. That moment when their gazes had locked felt like an eternity, and yet it had lasted mere seconds. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only the undeniable connection between them.
Who is that man? she asked herself again, her heart fluttering with the memory of their encounter. His intense gaze, the way his dark eyes seemed to see straight through her—it was like he'd understood something in her, something she hadn't even realized she was hiding. That connection, that moment when their eyes locked, left her feeling like the world had shifted just a little.
Her heart fluttered just at the memory of it. The way he'd looked at her... like she was something worth knowing. Something worth chasing. The air around her felt thick with the memory, like his presence still lingered in her room, just out of reach.
She turned onto her side, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Why did he make me feel like that? she wondered, her body still humming with the lingering effects of their brief encounter. She couldn't deny it—there was something about him that made her feel... something.
His strong frame, the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, had been impossible to ignore. His body seemed like it could protect her from anything—like he was built to be her shield. She couldn't help but imagine how safe she would feel in his presence, how secure.
And those lips, she thought, her breath catching as she remembered the curve of his smile, that playful yet mysterious grin that seemed to promise something she wasn't sure she was ready for. There was a confidence in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, that made her feel both intrigued and unsettled, like she was standing on the edge of something unknown, something dangerous, but exciting.
Her body ached with longing she didn't fully understand, a confusing blend of desire and fear. He had an aura of mystery that drew her in, like a magnet, pulling her closer, even though she knew she shouldn't get too close. He was a doctor, she thought again, the thought piercing her like a lightning bolt. A doctor.
She closed her eyes for a moment, her mind replaying the brief exchange they'd had. What is it about him? she asked herself again, still trying to make sense of the feelings he'd stirred in her. The way he looked at her had made her feel... seen. Not in the way most men looked at her, but in a deeper, more meaningful way.
Her thoughts swirled around in a haze, a mixture of fascination and confusion. She had never felt so affected by someone so quickly. Was it just his presence? Or was there something more? Aimee couldn't quite tell, but whatever it was, it was enough to keep her wide awake long after the night had settled in.
I need to focus," she whispered to herself, though she didn't believe it. Her words were empty promises, a futile attempt to calm the storm raging inside of her. The truth was, she didn't know how to focus anymore. She didn't know how to ignore the burning curiosity about Carlos. He had ignited something inside of her—a spark she couldn't put out.
And just like that, the world outside her room faded into oblivion. Aimee closed her eyes, her heart still pounding, a sense of anticipation swelling within her. Whatever this was, whatever this feeling was, she couldn't escape it. It was as if Carlos had entered her life, uninvited, but leaving an indelible mark on her soul.
I need to know him, she thought with a resolve that was both thrilling and terrifying. But deep down, she knew—this was just the beginning