A Twist of Fate
After the "dating proposal," our dynamic changed. Carlos started picking me up at home and driving me to work. We spent the commute talking about everything. At the front of my workplace, he always insisted on getting out and opening the door for me, rewarded with a kiss that made the girls sigh from the window. We also had lunch together, each day at a different restaurant, preferably one I hadn't been to before. I was starting to suspect that Carlos wanted to fatten me up while he stayed in shape. After each lunch, I promised myself I would join a gym. For about three months, I felt completely happy—until my boss called me into his office with an ultimatum: either I made a sale or I was out on the street. Just like that. From the look on his face, I fully believed him.
That's what I was thinking while Carlos was driving me home. I gazed out the window, wondering what I could come up with that I hadn't already done. I had to accept that I might be fired and start looking for something else, despite loving my job and the friendships I had made:
"Is everything okay, love?" Carlos asks while driving.
"It's just my job," I reply without giving much room to develop the subject.
"What happened? What's wrong?" Carlos asks, holding my hand as he drives.
"I'm not reaching the sales target, and today I received an ultimatum from my boss. Either I make a sale, or I'm out the door," I explain.
"I'm so sorry," Carlos says, caressing my hand.
"I like this job. The girls are great, and the environment... It's like I've found my place," I tell him.
"Is there any way I can help?" Carlos asks.
"If you can buy a one-million-euro house, I'll be eternally grateful," I joke with him.
"Just that? Alright," my husband replies with a smile.
I look at Carlos's face, knowing that not even in our wildest dreams could we afford such a house. Then I watch him park in front of our house. He gets out and opens the door for me, saying:
"Delivered safe and sound."
"Thank you," I say, holding his hand. "And thank you for listening to me. I really needed to vent."
"Relax," my husband says, touching a strand of my hair and tucking it behind my ear. He then touches the tip of my nose. "Everything will be fine."
***
I hear the ringtone of my phone in the distance. I didn't sleep at all the night before, worried about my job. I yawn and finally reach out to the side table to grab my phone:
"Hello?"
"Good morning, love," Carlos says on the other end of the line. "Sorry for waking you up, but I won't be able to take you today. My boss got a new partner, and things are pretty intense..."
"Okay," I reply, running my hand through my hair. "I'll see you at lunch then?"
"I can't guarantee that," Carlos says evasively.
"I see," I say, taking a deep breath. "Whenever you want to talk to me, you know where to find me."
I hang up the phone without waiting for Carlos's reply. It took exactly three months, two weeks, and four days for the old Carlos to resurface. I get out of bed and get ready for another day at work. I pick up Juan, fix him up, and wait for Nina with him in the living room. Her usual arrival time has already passed a few minutes ago when I decide to call her, but she doesn't answer. I start to get nervous because Nina had never been late before, let alone without communication. I sit on the couch, already thinking about how to explain to my boss that I was late right after his ultimatum. Then I decided to call my mother, who answers and, after a long dialogue, agrees to take care of Juan. I drive as fast as I can to my parents' house, already thinking that I'll have to fire Nina and put Juan in daycare. I park at my parent's house, and my mother greets me, looking serious:
"You need to be firm with that babysitter, my daughter. What if I wasn't home?"
"Alright, mom. Don't worry; it's just for today," I say, handing Juan to her.
I hurry back to the car, already planning the shortest route to my workplace and the excuse I'll give. However, two hours after my work hours, I arrive at the real estate agency under the concerned gazes of the girls. I barely put my bag on the desk when I hear the door to Suarez's office open:
"Dália, where have you been?"
"Sorry, Suarez, it's just that my son's babysitter didn't show up..."
"Zip!" Suarez interrupts. "Not another word."
"But Suarez..."
"That's enough, Dália," Suarez says, handing me a sheet of paper. "A client is waiting for you at the Parque Turó apartment. Go and see if you can close that sale. If you don't, don't bother coming back here. You can consider yourself fired."
"Parque Turó is Alba's territory," I cautiously mention to Suarez.
"I know... I told him that, but the client specifically asked for you," Suarez says, seriously. "Now hurry up and go sell."
I grab my bag and leave the real estate agency, thoughtful about the situation. I don't remember any client from my portfolio wanting an apartment. Within minutes, I arrive at the apartment located in one of the most exclusive areas of Barcelona, next to Turó Parc. I enter the building and go straight to the concierge to locate my client when suddenly:
"Dália."
I turn around quickly, unable to believe what my eyes see:
"What are you doing here?"
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