Archive of Our Own

“I’m here to speak with Violetta Castillo.”

“Right,” the receptionist skims the person in front of her from head to toe and then back up. Mismatched sneakers, jeans that look a little too torn to use the latest fashion as a credible excuse, and a hoodie way too big to be hers, caressed at the shoulders by a wildly unpredictable fountain of black curls that fall everywhere. On the suspect’s face, a plastered smile and dark eyes that are trying their very best to look as composed and reassuring as possible. “A fan, I presume?”

“Um…I guess you could say that? But-”

“Miss Castillo has no scheduled appointments for the entirety of this week, therefore, if you could so kindly go back to the dumpster you spawned from and stop wasting my time here…” The receptionist looks over the intruder, to the door behind her.

With each passing year Naty came back to Earth, she’s found humans to be more and more difficult to deal with. Then again, each passing year it seems like Earth itself plummets into more of an unsalvageable mess. That is why Naty loves her job so much: if she can bring even just a little hope into people’s hearts on such a difficult day as this, then it was all worth it.

Apparently, humanity had decided to deem February 14 a national holiday for love: Saint Valentine’s Day. As Naty would later find out, the jolly mood didn’t borrow much from Mr. Valentine himself, who was executed for going against the wishes of a Roman emperor - and had more to do with birds mating around the half-point of February, during the Middle Ages. Multiple legends happened to coincide on this fateful day, but Naty liked birds and decided to go with the bird theory. Comparing humans to little fluffy flying fiends, squawking, screeching and impossible to comprehend, was a habit she had picked up since then.

So with the tradition of February 14 came to be the conception of creatures destined to help humans navigate the muddy waters of love, otherwise known as the Cupids: angels who only populate the planet on Valentine’s Day with their one job, their one purpose, and go back to their heavenly land the moment their connection is made. The job was usually simple: one instruction, whether it be to make a specific connection happen, to point someone in someone else’s direction or whatever - truly, just a small toggle at the strings of fate. A push into the right way, because the Cupids are always, always right; connect the dots, connect the soulmates, make planet Earth a better place.

Naty is generally well-liked among the community for her friendly attitude and immediate problem-solving, qualities that grant her some of the highest ranks and more difficult jobs.   Again, nothing she can’t do if she puts her mind to it. She loves the fluttering feeling in her chest when her targets make the first move towards each other, the genuine smile that would reach the soulmates’ eyes at first glance, the undeniable safety and certainty that a job well done would bring to her nerves, because yes, after all these years, Naty still has haunting suspicions that something would go wrong in her perfect plans. Nothing ever goes wrong, but the fear persists.

Just like a lingering acre taste in her throat, whenever she bore witness to hugs and kisses, to pure celebrations of affection and, well, love. Naty wondered sometimes, if she herself had a one chance in the universe, despite the years and years she’s lived, just one chance to have someone by her side - before quickly making herself forget her childish dreams. For a Cupid who’s worked so relentlessly much for so many consecutive years, she should be satisfied with what she can give others, and not harbour selfish wishes she knows very well she couldn’t make come true. The only wishes she can focus on are humans’, her favourite little feathery menaces.

The receptionist in front of her could be compared to a treecreeper, a small woman with brown hair that becomes greyer by the roots and a slender, down-curved nose like the petite bird’s beak. But Naty knows that when the treecreeper has finished its relentless climb up a tree in search of food, it flies down to the base of the nearest one. If Naty has nothing that can pique the woman’s curiosity, then she’s very much down and onto the next one.

But lose the battle, win the war. The moment Naty turns around, her mind immediately focuses on someone whose aura shines brighter than anyone else’s in the room, a mesmerising young woman, chestnut waves coronating a perfectly symmetrical face, brown eyes shining along with a captivating apologetic grin reserved for when her gaze falls on the receptionist. “Hi, sorry I’m a little late,” she speedily makes her way through the lounge of the building, and places her bag on the desk. “The meeting’s in 306, right?”

The receptionist nods, then her eyes fall back to Naty again. “Speaking of, this one was saying she had to speak with you?”

“Oh?” The brunette turns to Naty too, now, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name.”

“Natalia, uh, Vidal, ma’am,” Naty raises one hand to shake hers. “And you’re Miss Castillo, correct?”

“Yes, but you can call me Violetta- I’m not as formal as my father,” Violetta laughs, then she seems to pick up on something and one of her eyebrows rises. “Are you…with our Spanish collaborators? I thought we were expecting you next month-”

“No, no, I was- well, I’m sure you’re busy, so maybe I’ll come back another time. But actually! I overheard earlier that the meeting has been moved to 309.”

“309? That’s strange, we never do meetings in 309- I didn’t even know 309 existed,” Violetta looks to the receptionist, whose suspicious glance stays fixated on Naty. “And how would you know that?”

Naty shrinks into herself nervously, “Um, I only said I overheard…maybe go check, just in case.” Violetta seems to take it into consideration for a moment, then simply shrugs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check…”

Naty smiles widely, though she tries her best to cover it. Her heart starts beating that slight bit faster, the way it always does when a Cupid’s job is done. In her head she can see it, the connecting string between Violetta Castillo and her soulmate weaved once and for all time. Very well. That’s all she was needed for, and now that the connection has been made, she can go back to her world, and wait for next year, for the next assignment.

She must admit, as one of the best in the game, she would’ve expected Angie, her boss, to give her harder of a challenge. And yet this was all: get Violetta Castillo in the same room as León Vargas. The rest would’ve happened on its own. Naty could’ve sworn there would’ve been a catch. That Violetta would be harder to convince, or that she would’ve gotten there too late, and then Naty would’ve had to chase the two little lovebirds (an expression she particularly loved) around the whole town to try and make the connection. No. The connection has been made. It’s over.

Kinda disappointing.

Oh well. She doesn’t make the rules, she just follows them.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Naty nearly bows, turning on her heels, before her face comes crashing into a dangerously piping hot cup of coffee. She doesn’t feel its scalding effect on her skin at all though, and she opens her eyes again to find the entirety of the cup has turned itself over a perfectly white top, now tragically and irrecoverably smeared by the brown liquid.

Then something weird happens.

Something unexpected. And in Naty’s perfectly tailored job, unexpected occurrences are not welcomed.

The top belongs to a woman quite taller than Naty, long blond hair tied back into a perfect low bun, and when her face tilts to find the Cupid’s, perhaps the most singular pair of brown eyes she had ever seen in her hundreds of years of work. But maybe they feel singular and completely unique in this moment, because this woman is seeing her, and oh God, this woman is seeing her.

Two indissoluble rules had always been true for the Cupids: the only person who can see you is the person you’re working for for the day (Violetta Castillo). You can only make yourself visible to people who are strictly indispensable for the accomplishment of your mission (the treecreeper receptionist).

The blonde in front of her is neither of those things, and yet, their eyes lock, and hers fill up with the most unfiltered rage Naty has ever had the displeasure to be faced with. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she screeches, so loudly everyone around her turns before apparently recognising who the voice belongs to and returning to their tasks at hand.

“You…” Naty’s still completely speechless, not yet moving from the weird embrace with the stranger, looking like they’re two people hugging for the first time - who also have no idea what hugging as a concept means. “You can…you can see me?”

“What?!” The woman pushes her off, a scowl on her porcelain face. “Is this another PSA for me to get my eyesight checked out, Vilu?! Your creativity is off the charts here.”

Violetta, the only person in the whole room who seems willing to give her the time of day anyway, snorts. “You seriously think I hired someone to spill coffee all over you just for you to get glasses?”

“Well,” the woman looks Naty up and down. “You could’ve just picked this one up off the street and promised her a place to sleep for the night.” Naty doesn’t know if she should be offended by this: she was never good at nailing down the latest human fashion trends, still, she already doesn’t like this woman very much. But oh well, no time to lose here, she needs to go.

“Hey, play nice,” Violetta rolls her eyes, going for the lift. “I’m sure…Natalia, was it, won’t mind paying you back for coffee now, would she?” Her stare falls on Naty again and no, no, no, she’s getting too involved, she has to leave. “Actually, I’m pretty busy-”

“And so am I,” the blonde scoffs. “Do you even have money to pay for coffee?”

Well, technically no, because the only thing she was put on this Earth to do was to get Violetta in the wrong room where she would meet with León. This was way out of her expertise. Still, the mean-spirited remark somehow gets to her pride. “Of course I have money.”

“You’re just the latest intern my sister took on for her basket case project, aren’t you,” she shakes her head. Turning to Violetta again, she hisses: “I have a job, I can’t look after her.”

“Well, I’m your boss, and I say take the day off. Have fun!” Violetta gives her a huge grin, disappearing behind the doors of the lift. The other woman watches incredulously as it goes up, then focuses back on Naty. “She wasn’t serious, you know. Well, I mean, she was, but- I’m not getting coffee with you, I hope that’s clear.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t in my to-do list for today either,” Naty pushes her head of untamed curls back, a gesture that apparently catches the blonde’s attention, as she crosses her arms and just stares at her attentively. Naty, not understanding what she’s done, squirms ever so slightly. “What?”

“What?” the woman repeats, jerking her head the other way, a gesture so sudden her neck is certainly going to hurt soon. Every single thing she does paints her as even more of a mystery to Naty than the one before it. She looks out of place in a firm such as this, and there’s a strange aura she carries around with her, everywhere she goes: Violetta’s was bright and blinding, but this mystery lady just feels as if her world is hellbent on spinning the other way as opposed to everyone else’s, a strange dull grey surrounding and plaguing her every move.

Finally, it hits Naty the way it was supposed to hit her from the first moment she looked her way: this woman must be part of her job, somehow. That’s why Violetta felt so easy to accomplish. This was the catch. And this is why she can see her: Naty has to find her soulmate, she has to tie her loose knot today, make that grey aura colourful beyond imagination. That’s what she does best, anyway.

A surprise mission is not what she’s usually accustomed to, she’s generally given strict orders and names and profiles. This time, she might have to work on some investigation of her own. Angie was definitely getting creative with her assignments. It could be impossible, it might very much be, but there must be a reason why this is all happening. Naty has never backed away from a challenge, and she’s not going to start now. What could possibly go wrong?

“Actually, I would like to make it up to you,” she tries again, offering a smile. “What’s your favourite coffee shop around here? My treat.”

The woman eyes her with arched eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“Your boss said it’s your day off, live big,” Naty winks. The blonde grimaces. “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that,” she sputters, then her hunched posture slowly but surely deflates. “You need to pay for my dry cleaners, too. Look at this mess,” she points at her top, now the brownish stain starting to take shape. It almost looks like a butterfly caught in the act of flying, wings open against the wind. “I think it looks fine.”

“Well, yeah, with what you’re wearing, I wouldn’t expect any less,” she rolls her eyes and walks to the sliding doors of the building again. When she sees Naty isn’t trailing right behind her, she stops. “So? Are you coming? You said you’d pay, you can’t back out now.”

Suddenly ecstatic that her plan has worked - as if it ever hasn’t, but the Cupid seems to have a physical aversion to cockiness…as a matter of fact, anxiety flows in her celestial veins, which doesn’t seem fair - Naty beams, the biggest grin growing on her lips. The blonde, once again, just stares for a few moments, then again: “I said, are you coming?!”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry!”

“So, Natalia.” The blonde takes the drink to her mouth’s height, catching the straw between her teeth and starting to chew on it slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here.”

Naty rocks on her chair, taking in every single little detail of the small bar the stranger’s chosen to get her coffee back. It’s cosy - few tables, few people, basically hidden in an alleyway not too far from the building she’s presumably working in - and at first glance not what she’d associate with the loud and theatrical woman in front of her at all. But this only contributes to the mystery she’s now dead set on unravelling.

“What were you doing at the firm today?” The blonde points an accusatory finger across the table, Naty’s attention falling on the perfectly manicured pink nail now inches away from her face. “Oh, um, I was looking to get…” Naty tries going through the information she was given for today’s mission in her head if what the firm itself consisted of was ever mentioned, blanking miserably. “…A job!”

“A job?” the other woman snorts, “You showed up to a job interview with two different pairs of shoes? You know we’re not a clown firm, right?”

“I- I was nervous. Apparently I didn’t think this through, oh well, better luck next time.”

“Now I know my sister takes a liking to strays, but even she must draw a line somewhere. She’s learned nothing from her father.” Shaking her head slightly, she adds: “I guess that’s a good thing more than a bad thing.”

Naty dissects every word at record speed: they’re sisters, or well, stepsisters, since she emphasised the her on her father. They didn’t look - or acted, for that matter - much alike anyway, so that made sense. And she doesn’t seem too pleased with working under her stepsister - of course, with someone who wears her boundless pride on her sleeve, that’s a given. Frustration in work life is the first thing that easily weasels its way in personal life, especially on the romantic side. Things are slowly starting to take shape.

“What’s your job like?” Naty asks. “You know…so I can, um, show up more prepared next time.” The blonde eyes her suspiciously, but shrugs: “It’s a job. It gets me money. That’s really all there is.”

“Well, that sounds depressing.”

The other woman emits a guttural shocked sound, “Excuse me?! Who are you to come and make assumptions about how depressing my life is?!” She stands up abruptly, the kicked-back chair screeching loudly. “I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time with you-”

“No, wait, wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that- I’m just-” Naty stands up too, grabbing her by the arm and finding the sleeve of the now buttoned-up coat to hide the coffee stain unexplainably soft. The rich fabric, combined with the delectable scent her wrist is tainted with, sends Naty in a trance for one moment, as her hand only keeps the hold, which makes the now puzzled blonde redder by the second. She sends her a glare that words can’t contain the venom of, though if Naty had to guess it’d sound something along the lines of Get your hands off me, you perverted fucko, so she’ll follow the voice in her head’s instruction.

“Uh- I’m just too blunt for my own good,” she clumsily finishes her sentence when she realises the quietness has been going on for too long. “And I really love my job, and it’s crazy to think about someone hating theirs for me. Why don’t you just…quit and find another?”

Somehow this gets her to soften up, her grimace slowly relaxing into a pitiful frown. “I wish it was that simple, Natalia,” she mutters, easing back into the seat.

“You can call me Naty.”

“Ok. I won’t.”

“And what’s your name?” Naty blurts out, realising only now that she’s waited too long to ask her. But the blonde smirks, closing her eyes as if the sound of her own name could send jolts of amour propre throughout her body. “Ludmila Castillo,” she enunciates like she’s announcing the latest princess arriving at the ball.

“Ludmila Castillo,” Naty hums, again going through her mental database and having to come to a screeching halt way too soon for her liking. How come she knows nothing about this woman she’s supposed to save today, a woman who can see her, no less, and how ever can she find her missing piece at this pace? It’s already well into the afternoon, and Naty doesn’t know what happens if a mission isn’t completed before midnight - and she does not want to find out. “It’s a really pretty name. It suits you.”

“Why thank you,” Ludmila crosses her legs on the chair, her smirk even more smug now - a cat who got the cream, if the cream is the attention of a tall muffin-sized fashion disaster. “I like yours too, Vidal- you sure are full of life, I can confirm.”

Naty doesn’t exactly know where her name or last name or bodily form comes from - Cupids don’t have families, mothers, fathers or whatnot, though a familial bond has been formed throughout the years as it was bound to. Lena, for example, has been a sort of sister ever since they went on a double mission together once and had to act as such. But other than that, who called her Natalia, day of birth, or Vidal, bringer of life, who gave her her head of black curls and, as the humans she’s met have remarked, Spanish accent, was a complete mystery to her.

The idea that there was some sort of omnipotent entity above the Cupids was not one she particularly liked anyway. The grander scheme of things is not something her frail mind could ever hope to tackle as a subject, and meeting her maker is not anywhere close to the top of her to-do list. She’s content with her job, she is satisfied with what she does, and as long as today ends well then there will be no further questions from her.

And that’s not what interests her the most anyway. “Oh, so you got my full name? Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with your sister?”

Ludmila pffts loudly, “Get over yourself, I just came in with her, I happened to overhear because I was right there. And also because you’re loud.”

Naty shrugs. Ludmila’s tone is sharp and fleeting, as if she’s dancing around in a labyrinth, wrapped around an impossible shape like a terrible Christmas present nobody wants to open, as it’s painfully obvious what it’s concealing. And Naty has always taken a liking to the desperate cases: that’s why she’s the best in her field. In front of her now sits perhaps a golden eagle, an elusive bird of prey whose presence would scare most, but the experienced Cupid sees through the facade and knows that eagles care more than most about family, and all they want is a destination safe enough to fly to: they’re good fliers, perhaps the best in the raptorial bird game. And it’s not hard to see that Ludmila does care for her sister, but she won’t press to make her say it upright. The eyes, though, never lie.

“So you work together?”
“We do pretty much everything together, ever since we were teenagers,” Ludmila sucks up what’s left of her iced coffee - she was adamant about not getting a hot beverage again - with an indecipherable look. “We live together, we work at the same place…we’re just a- a two-headed disaster of a supposedly adult woman.” Looking at her shoes, gorgeous shiny black heeled boots, she admits: “I want to look out for her, I’m the oldest- and yet she’s got it all figured out a thousand times better than me.”

“Age doesn’t matter in that regard…and you are young enough to still be able to start from scratch and get away with it,” Naty muses, one hand slowly massaging her chin. “It’s nice that you’re sticking together this way.”

“Sure,” Ludmila concedes, clearly done with the topic at hand. “She’s lucky to have had the parent with the money and the firm to take after. I had the parent with the mental illness and the court cases.”

Naty cringes despite herself, and knows that across the table from her, Ludmila can feel it too. The air steadily keeps growing thicker with tension as the Cupid desperately tries to connect the dots in her head. Maybe she needs to be upright. Mentioning it immediately after that bombshell of a statement might be mean-spirited, but time is running out - and Naty does feel terrible humiliating herself like this, but alas, it’s not like she’ll ever see Ludmila again. Shots must be shot as unsure as Naty is of her own arsenal. “So…do you have any-”

“But enough about me,” Ludmila immediately cuts her off. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself, and I’m still suspicious of your real intentions.” She shakes her glass as if she doesn’t already know there’s no more left of her coffee. “What is it that you do? I want to believe you’re not actually homeless.”

“I’m not homeless,” Naty immediately replies, “but what would be wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Ludmila shrugs. “So what is it about you, Natalia Vidal?”

The Cupid’s eyes slowly widen with anxiety as Ludmila’s chocolate stare pins her down to her chair, amusement clear in her growing smirk. Perhaps this was her power, to strip her interlocutor of their defences until eventually they’d be too worn out to make up lies. And Naty knows there is no way in Heaven Ludmila has caught onto her - how could humans possibly believe in the supernatural? Especially someone who looked and sounded and exuded as much sceptical energy as the woman in front of her - but still, it’s the stare that makes her doubtful. Lies must be told, good lies, to protect the humans. Another fundamental rule.

“I work in- well. My job is to…” How to put this without sounding straight out of a madhouse? “I help people be happy,” is the explanation she decides to settle on. The delighted gleam in Ludmila’s eyes turns sour as her eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “What?”

“Well, you asked!”

“Yeah, I asked expecting an actual normal answer, what is this poetic bullshit?! It’s ok if you’re jobless, I wouldn’t judge!”

“You’ve done nothing but judge me since the moment you saw me.”

“Ugh, whatever. Let me try to decipher your stupid riddle-” Ludmila puts a hand on her forehead, mustering up whatever can possibly be left of her patience. “Are you a…therapist or something?”

Naty hears herself laugh before she can stop the giggle from coming out her mouth, and when Ludmila clearly doesn’t like that as an answer, she only shrugs: “Sure, yeah. I guess you can say that.”

“You guess you’re a therapist?” Ludmila’s the one laughing now, a hoarse dry chuckle dripping in irony. “What, do you guess your patients’ diagnoses too?”

“I can definitely guess yours, Ludmila Castillo,” Naty sits straighter, locking eyes with the blonde who despite herself loses a smidge of her confident facade. “I can guess you think you’re playing this smart game, but I’ve got you figured out. You’re lonely. You’re unsatisfied with your life. You need help. And you need me.”

Ludmila only stares at her, eyes dull and unblinking. The Cupid realises she’s made a terrible mistake, as blood - or whatever the equivalent in her body is - rushes to her cheeks. “Crap. I’m- I’m sorry I- I got too blunt again-”

But Ludmila is smiling. For some reason, Naty’s outburst got the most genuine smile she’s seen the woman make out of her. “That…that’s all correct,” she nods, head bobbing like a figurine. “Well- except the needing you part, that’s presumptuous of you to assume- and I’m not sure I actually do need help. And well, I’m not exactly lonely. But more or less, yeah, that’s me.” She flashes her shiny white teeth, a gesture that doesn’t help Naty’s face to cool down. “I’m unsatisfied. Welcome to the game of life, Natalia.” A little tsk escapes her lips, “Oh Vilu, you sneaky little piece of shit. Did she put you up to this? An impromptu therapy session?”

“Once again,” Naty sighs, “I came looking for a job-”

“How could a therapist be looking for a job at a construction company firm? Do you even have qualifications? You make absolutely no sense.”

“Well, neither do you. You don’t look like someone who knows that much about constructions.”

“And you know that how? Do you read minds?”

“No, but I read souls,” Naty says, not even bothering to correct her slip-up. “You work in the firm because of your stepfather, don’t you?”

Ludmila’s lips form a straight, thin line. Her eyebrows crinkle. “Now you’re judging.”

“I’m…I’m trying to understand you. I’m not even supposed to be here. I should be home.”

The blonde’s last expression is doubtful as hangs her head, and finally it seems like she’s not going to speak anymore. Naty fears she’s broken her. A shiver spreads throughout her entire body, because this could very well mean she’s gone about this all wrong, and she’s failed her mission, for the first time in centuries. Natalia Vidal, first in her field, love expert, just failed her first mission.

But somehow that’s not the thing that saddens her the most. Because when Ludmila hangs her head and her incessant high-pitched blabber comes to a striking halt, Naty’s first thought is that she misses it. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and this time she truly means it. “It’s been a weird day for me and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Surely she can talk to Angie about this, find a solution to this problem and have someone else assigned to Ludmila before the end of the day - there must still be a few hours left. Every ticking second could be fatal, and as much as Naty hates having to go back empty-handed, she knows in her gut this woman needs someone to take care of her. Someone who can truly love and see her, despite the clumsy packaging and the rough eagle exterior. Though it could be that Naty had gotten her all wrong, for she couldn’t see a regal golden eagle in front of her anymore, but a rare example of a California condor: a species at risk of extinction purely because of the fact that it doesn’t need to mate to reproduce. Does Ludmila not need a partner? It could be, not everyone in the world felt romantic attraction and the Cupids were way past that old stigma. But Naty wouldn’t have been assigned her if she didn’t need her laces to be tied.

The sun is starting to set, and she needs answers. She wants answers now. Ludmila won’t be left alone. “Tell me everything.”

Ludmila’s eyes meet her again, darker than earlier. “What?”

“Tell me what makes you unsatisfied. Or tell me what would make you happy. Just talk to me. I’ll listen.” A soft smile finds its way on Naty’s lips at the sight of Ludmila slowly fixing her slump. “And not in a therapist way. In a friendly way. That’s what I figured out about you…you need a friend.”

Ludmila blushes to the tip of her ears. Her mouth opens in a response, but then her phone rings and she quickly shuts her jaw. “It’s my fiancé,” she says distractedly, “I wonder what he wants now.”

Naty blinks. Her whole body goes stiff. “Your…what?”

“My fiancé,” she repeats, her tone as unimpressed as ever - she clearly isn’t enthusiastic about this phone call. As much as Naty feels numb, her eyes dare dart to the phone screen as Ludmila sets it on the table. And she reads the last name she would’ve wanted to.

No mistake, calling Ludmila right now is a number she’s saved as León Vargas.

Naty’s stomach - or whatever she’s got inside her celestial body - turns on itself.

Ludmila isn’t a mission.

Ludmila is an active threat to the mission.

Ludmila’s fiancé is her sister’s soulmate.

Ludmila needs to be taken down.

“My God, Lion, take a hint,” she rolls her eyes at the phone. “He always does this- I told him that if I let it ring more than three times I’m not gonna pick up, and yet he always acts as if his calls are of dire necessity. He’s just gonna ask me to listen to one of his stupid demos again. Men,” she makes a fake barfing sound. “I’ll be right back, sorry. Will you get yourself something, Nat? You just went pale. You could really use the sugar.”

Naty can do nothing but mechanically nod, her lips painfully grinding into a forced smile. Ludmila furrows her brows, but gets up from her chair anyway and walks presumably to the bathroom or a quieter spot where she can talk to him.

As soon as she disappears from her view, Naty lets out a high-pitched, panicked huff, letting her head precipitate in her hands. Had she gone about this all wrong? How could she have been this wrong? Ludmila was nothing but a pawn in her mission for today - yet, how had she not been summoned back yet? Why was Naty still on Earth, if her work was done? What had she done to deserve such an impossible task?!

No, no, everything was still fine - maybe she only needs to keep Ludmila at bay, as far from Violetta and León as she possibly can.

León. Her fiancé.

Mentioning one of the two soulmates was soon to be married to another woman felt like too important of a notion to neglect on a job description for a Cupid, of all things. If Naty didn’t know and love and trust Angie, she’d say that eternal life crisis was hitting her pretty hard this year. It would happen, when it came to immortality.

Another thing Naty was starting to take issue with as endless time passed, was the notion that there simply would be no end to this job of hers. Humanity would go extinct and the Sun would leave the Earth to rot before Naty could ever rest, and even though she hadn’t lived nearly as many years as Angie or other colleagues of hers like Pablo or Beto, who had become some sort of mentors or ‘teachers’ to the more inexperienced bunch, inexplicable tugs would take over her mind at the end of every February 14th, at the end of every job: wouldn’t it be so much easier if she had it like them? Like humans, living pointless lives, waking up every day and not having to face an empty void? Making connections? Finding joy in the little things? Like friends and lovers?

Why can’t Naty find a soulmate for Naty, for once?

What cruel irony, the angel who wishes to become human.

“Look, here’s a free one,” someone says behind her, and suddenly a couple is approaching her table. Naty furrows her brows, “I’m sorry, I’m sitting here with my-” She can’t even finish the sentence as one of the two strangers literally sits through her, reminding her once again of her non-corporeal existence, of her impossible dreams and of her ridiculousness in even daring to dream them.

Weirded out by the fact that she’s being sat on, she stands up and leaves the table to the couple, just by one glance recognising the power and chemistry that runs between them: soulmates, of course. Scarlet macaws, mating for life, loving each other endlessly because what else would they do? Trudging all the way through the cafe to the door, she feels her eyes start to burn, and her heart in her throat - another sadistic trick of whoever created her, futile human emotions and an endless existence to feel them.

She pointlessly looks back at the crowd, almost as if she could count the people sitting in the bar and match them together with ease, because she could. And as it slowly hits her that sitting at every table are romantic partners, her eyes land on the other side of the room, where she finds Ludmila.

And for a second she sees her completely emotionless, standing in the corner of the room like an electric toy someone forgot to turn on, eyes hollow, staring at the crowd too, chest terrifyingly still as if she stopped breathing. Then her gaze finds Naty, too, and her shoulders slouch as she starts her stroll through the bar, voice already shrill: “I thought you had abandoned me or something! What was that, a prank?!”

“I- I-” Naty tries, feeling herself start to blush. Every word now passes through her mouth like she’s been choking on sand for the last ten minutes, but as she sees colour returning to Ludmila’s face and visible relief taking control of her every feature, a hint of a smile despite her wrinkled brows and brown, brown eyes eagerly waiting for any next move, Naty realises and remembers all at once that today was never about her.

If she’s still here, it means that Ludmila needs her. And she won’t stop helping until those needs are satisfied.

“I’m here,” Naty breathes. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion swims in Ludmila’s wide eyes, but still, the smile tentatively stays. “You wanna leave?”

“Well- um, I…”

“It’s ok, you can say you were getting bored.” The smile turns into a mischievous smirk. “Plus, you still owe me a new top, since you ruined this one.”

“A new-” The Cupid abruptly remembers how they met in the first place, and she finds herself nervously giggling. “Right. Sorry about that again.”

“It’s just a white shirt, I’ll survive. But we better run if we wanna make it to my usual store, they’re just closing.” Ludmila opens the door in a hurry, wind sweeping in the moment she does, ruffling the few loose strands of her bun. “That is, if you’re not sick of me yet, of course. I can just take your money and go.”
“Sick of you?” Naty asks genuinely, like the assumption could have offended her. Ludmila pauses at this, her smile dropping and her stare turning somehow brighter, cheeks now slightly pinker. And seeing her reaction makes Naty laugh again, not nervously this time. “Let’s go.”

With that, the two disappear into the chaotic evening, traffic and city lights brightening up the busy streets of the city centre. To guide the clueless Cupid, Ludmila makes the bold decision to take her hand. “Follow me,” she says, picking up the pace. Naty shivers at the touch, the cold hand sending jolts through her body she had never experienced before, but ultimately obeys.

And in the swarm of lovers and couples that plagued the city on this day of the year, suddenly, hand in hand, they blend right in.

(Why Naty keeps staring at Ludmila’s hand, she doesn’t know exactly. But the lack of a ring on her finger somehow hypnotises her.)

When Ludmila storms into the clothing store of her choice, still stubbornly holding onto Naty’s hand, the sun has almost completely disappeared. The guard at the door gives her an aggressive side-eye, and she only rolls hers. “What? I still have fifteen minutes.” She flashes a shit-eating grin and disappears between the aisles. The place looks too white, too empty - too fancy for someone like Naty to walk in looking like a dumpster harlequin. But there’s no stopping Ludmila, that much is clear by now.

Strutting her way to her desired section of the store, she turns to Naty, who’s been staying awfully quiet the whole walk through, only listening to Ludmila’s incoherent rantings. “You still alive?”

“Considering you’ve dragged me across what felt like half of Buenos Aires…I’m fairly o-”

“Good, good, now. Be a darling and help me sort through this mess.” As soon as her hand leaves Naty’s, she starts rummaging through hangers and hangers of clothes, and before Naty can even blink Ludmila’s shoved an entire mountain of tops and dresses her way. “Hold onto these?” Naty helplessly nods, feeling like she doesn’t have much of a choice. Ludmila’s lips curl. “That’s my girl,” she pats the shorter woman on the head, and disappears behind the curtain of one of the dressing rooms.

When Naty starts to feel herself growing hotter and hotter after that interaction, she thinks she’s dying. Maybe this is her punishment for not completing her mission.

No. What she’s settling on now as an explanation is her mission was Violetta and León - this is collateral damage. She’s just taking longer at being beamed back up in her world, and she doesn’t mind pretending to be human for a few hours more.

But then again…that gnawing feeling hasn’t left her. She might’ve never done anything wrong before, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a first time for everything. She needs to get in contact with Angie, there’s simply no way this is all a coincidence. Because if it is, then she might quit her job. If that’s even possible.

But back to the topics at hand. “Everything okay with León?” she asks, and Ludmila’s head pops out from the curtain, hand holding onto the fabric clearly indicating she was in the middle of trying some item of clothing. “What?”

“I- I mean your fiancé, I- I read his name from your phone. What did he call for?”

Ludmila’s eyes narrow. Naty squirms, “You- you don’t have to tell me, sorry for prying.” The blonde stares at her for a few beats more, before going back to the dressing room, and Naty gulps, afraid she’s said exactly the wrong thing.

Could there be a possibility that…Angie messed up between the sisters’ names? That Ludmila was actually the one who needed rekindling with her fiancé, and Violetta was somehow a trap?

Except- no, Naty saw the woven string between her and León, it couldn’t be. There are rules to this game. This woman- she can’t have disregarded them so easily.

Ludmila’s hand emerges from the curtain. “Next.”

Naty looks at the hand, puzzled. “Next!” Ludmila repeats, grabbing fistfuls of air. “We don’t have all day!” Naty picks one random top from the pile in her hands and throws it Ludmila’s way, who mumbles: “Thank you. Finally.”

And that’s how Naty thinks the story is gonna end: her words as her own tombstone, her mission as her own doom. How can she help a woman who has the words I don’t want to be helped tattooed on her forehead? Maybe everyone’s lied to her, and she actually isn’t as good at her job as she thought she was. Because the second the challenge gets trickier, evidently, she isn’t up to it anymore. But what is Naty if not her job?

What is even going to happen to her, when she goes back empty-handed?

Has Ludmila Castillo officially broken the system?

Has Ludmila Castillo officially broken her?

A sense of pungent rage washes over her, mixed with the nastiest kind of self-loathing her mind can muster. It’s all Ludmila’s fault. But it’s not her fault at all.

“Natalia, did you fall asleep or something? Talking to myself is like second nature now, but-”

“Wh- what?”

“I was telling you about the…” Ludmila pulls the curtain to one side, now face to face with Naty again, eyebrows furrowed in a way that the Cupid could only describe as so typically Ludmila. “Are you ok?” she questions quietly. Naty’s eyes widen, her words bringing her back to Earth all at once: “Why do you ask? Of course, I’m ok!” And she tries her hardest to hold her stare, gulping nervously when she realises Ludmila’s forgotten to put her shirt back on and now stands in front of her only in her bra.
“You look…woozy.”

“I look what?”

“I don’t know, you’re acting strange- like you’re hiding something!”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Naty shrieks, but the way her words come out makes it sound more like a question. “What, you need more clothes? Let’s get you more clothes,” she spins on herself, like clothes will magically materialise on the already impossibly big pile she’s holding if she just wishes it hard enough.

“Actually, I’m hating everything I’m trying on,” Ludmila rolls her eyes. “Today is not my day.”

“Yeah, mine either,” Naty nods in agreement.

“Makes sense that we would meet today then-” the blonde cuts herself off. “Wait. I got it.” Her eyes light up again, and the curtain swallows her whole once more. Naty lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding once she can finally blink again.

Ludmila reemerges from the dressing room fully clothed, a smirk Naty can’t quite place on her lips. Worn out, she asks, “Now what?”

“Now it’s your turn,” Ludmila grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her inside the dressing room. Naty only yelps, “Wait-!”, but her protesting is fruitless as Ludmila runs away, almost cackling as she dances through the isles looking for God knows what. Naty watches her ravage everything her manicured hands set on, and again, she finds this somehow endearing. In centuries she has never seen a mess of a woman quite like Ludmila: it might be because she’s never had the opportunity to actually meet and get to know a human, but then again, her heart (or whatever it is beating in her chest is) seems to think with a mind completely of its own that Naty didn’t want to meet anyone else that wasn’t Ludmila, either.

As if they were meant to meet, in all the centuries she’s lived.

Kind of like a…

Naty drops the pile of clothing all at once, her jaw now seconds from dislocating and falling on the floor with it. What is she thinking now?! This is past the point of madness, this is outright delusion of the worst degree. She needs to get ahold of Angie, now. Whatever Earth fumes she’s been inhaling are damaging her beyond repair.

Makes sense that we would meet today then.

It would…wouldn’t it?

Naty aggressively shakes her head, curls bouncing everywhere with her, as if forcing the thoughts out of her brain. When she looks back ahead, Ludmila’s walking - or running, at least that’s what it looks like - her way. “We have like, five minutes, so you need to be quick. Quicker than quick.”

“Ludmila, I don’t get it.”

“Consider it a charity act-” she finally reaches her, struggling to make the landing so she crashes into Naty. A mess of tangled limbs and clothes all over, Naty is now so close to Ludmila she can hear her heartbeat. And with her ear pressed to her chest, in that split second, she could swear it starts beating faster. Looking up at her, Ludmila is now flushed. “W-what are you doing?! Get off me!”

“You ran into me!”

“Yeah, blame me for trying to do something nice- whatever, just put this on.” She shoves a shirt her way, and with a swift gesture, she closes the curtain. “And don’t come out until you’ve tried it!”

Naty remains speechless for the millionth time in one short day at the woman’s antics. “Why are you forcing me to-”

“I said five minutes, Nat!”

With a drawn-out, resigned sigh, Naty starts taking off her impossibly big hoodie. Chest now exposed, she stares at the mirror in front of her, taking in her figure. “Nat…” she repeats, whispering so quietly to herself, like she can’t let anyone know that for the first time this name she’s been given feels hers.

She feels so human despite not being a human at all.

Is that so much of an issue?

Deep dark eyes stare back at her from the mirror, lips and ears and hair and hands and legs, and doesn’t she look the part enough? She could fool anyone, even herself.

It wouldn’t be impossible to just…stay on Earth.

With Ludmila.

And maybe with time she would finally help her find her soulmate.

If not…she could be the one to stay by her side.

She wouldn’t mind it. 

She wouldn’t mind it at all.

“Natalia, you have to hurry up or we’ll get kicked out-” Naty’s aggressively jolted awake by Ludmila’s high-pitched screech. “What the fuck!” She puts a hand to her eyes, so fast she literally slaps herself in the process. “Why aren’t you wearing a bra?!”

“Uh…” Naty grows red. “I’m…sorry?”

If Ludmila was flushed before, now she’s a full-blown tomato. “Close this curtain- where’s the curtain?!” Her other hand, the one that’s not momentarily blinding her, goes everywhere, the wall, Naty’s face - squeezes on Naty’s upper arm, and if Naty wasn’t just as stupid as her, she’d have known better than to think that was completely random - until finally the Cupid gives in and closes the curtain for her. “It’s just boobs, Ludmila,” she forces herself to laugh, knowing full well that she was none the wiser not two minutes ago.

“Oh, shut up.”

“You know, actually, there’s a type of seabird called booby-”

“Shut up!”
“But they’re so pretty! They have huge wings and they hunt for fish and squid around the Pacific Ocean. Would you consider yourself more of a red-footed booby or a blue-faced booby?”

Ludmila bangs her head against the wall, hoping one hit will be strong enough to take her out. “Are you done?!”
“And wait ’til you hear about the tit!” Naty laughs to herself now, as if she just said the funniest thing in the world. Then her eyes finally settle on whatever Ludmila’s forced her to try on, a soft red and black flannel shirt. Her laughter fades into a sweet smile. Ludmila had picked this…just for her?

Sliding her arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up, she can’t help but imagine this is what a hug must feel like: warm all over, familiar and gentle and so, so necessary.

“Do you like it?” Ludmila asks from the other side of the curtain, voice uncharacteristically small. Naty walks out of the dressing room with an ecstatic grin, “I love it.”

Before Ludmila can be caught staring for too long, she narrows her eyes in pure pride. “I knew you would.”

“May I ask, though- why did you make me…?” Naty trails off, puzzled, but Ludmila only softly pats her on the shoulder: “Well, I thought your wardrobe was in dire need of an intervention, so…consider this a gift.”

“Wait…” Naty’s eyes widen, “You…you wanna buy this for me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Oh, Ludmila, you’re- I can’t accept this.”

“Aw, Nat,” the blonde smirks, “so sweet of you to think you have a choice in the matter.”

“Two minutes to closing time,” the cashier groans as she scans the flannel shirt through the reader. “Do you think this is funny?”

“I’m a busy woman, you know me, Julia. Why don’t you close up the shop earlier if you don’t want me to come in?”

“Because every time you come in here I pray it’s the last.”

Naty watches the two interact, not surprised that yet another person has Ludmila on their blacklist. “This is not your style at all, either. A new girlfriend you want to impress?”

Ludmila grimaces, instinctively putting herself slightly more in front of Naty as if to shield her. “Ha-ha. For your information,” she looks back at the Cupid for just one second, “this is my- assistant.”

“Your what?” Julia laughs. “Your what?” Naty repeats, though not so much as laughing. “They’re just giving out assistants to anyone nowadays,” the cashier continues, putting the shirt in a bag. “And anyway, I don’t see anyone with you.”

“Seriously? Now I know she’s short, but you’re being really rude to a potential customer.”

“You’ve literally been talking to yourself since the moment you stepped in, darling, are you so lonely now that you’re hallucinating your friends?”

“What the-” Ludmila spins to face Naty again. “Natalia, will you please say something?!”

But Naty is eerily quiet, as she plays back in her head every interaction she’s had with Ludmila today and coming to the horrifying realisation that the whole world around them must have only seen a deranged woman rambling by herself. At the café, in the streets, and now in this store…the notion is as gut-churning as it is somehow also hilarious, and an uncontrolled burst of giggles escapes her mouth before she can tape it shut with her hand. “Um, maybe I should…” She can’t just- make herself visible to the woman now, appearing out of thin air. As much as she doesn’t want to make Ludmila look like a nut-job, there’s not much else she can do. “I’ll just wait for you outside,” she resolves to say.

“No need,” Ludmila growls as she snatches the bag from the cashier’s grasp and leaves the money on the counter. “Keep the change, I won’t be coming back.”

“You said this last time too, you know. But I guess madness goes hand in hand with the Ferro surname,” Julia chuckles to herself.

An entire beat passes as Naty’s eyes dart to Ludmila’s figure. Her posture straightens so suddenly it’s almost as if her back will snap the other way. Then everything goes silent, and Naty only registers Ludmila’s clenched fists trembling, before she storms out of the shop. The Cupid’s curls fly with the momentum her sudden movement creates, but she knows for a fact that her common sense exits the store with the blonde.

So, as the cashier is putting her money into the cash register, Naty decides to make herself visible out of the blue. “Actually,” she exclaims so loud the woman almost falls back from how terrified the unexpected sound makes her, “as Ludmila’s assistant, I think she will take that change. Thank you!” A huge plastered smile makes its way on her face, which does not help placate the cashier’s racing heartbeat - precisely the reaction Naty was hoping to get. The woman directs her glance to the guard at the door, who just helplessly shrugs. “I-I…I didn’t see you before…I’m sor-”

“Ooh, but I’m not the one who should be apologised to,” Naty winces. “Don’t worry though, as her assistant, I’ll make sure she never steps foot into this…” She looks around herself, lips pursed in deep thought, and then a description from earlier that day comes back into her mind, “ah, dumpster again. Honestly, with the way you’ve been so rude to your customer, you should at the very least give her that shirt free of charge. But I won’t tell you how to do your job,” she pats her hands on the counter, “since you clearly have everything under control, don’t you, Julia.”

Julia tries to make her face as void of emotion as she possibly can, but Naty can see it in her soul anyway, that she’s probably ten seconds away from completely breaking down. Screaming? Crying? Losing it and jumping across the counter to start beating her up? Being an expert in human psychology means Naty knows exactly what tiles to move to send a tower tumbling down, but having used these expertises for good only so far in her life means she has no idea just what happens when the tower does tumble down. So once the change money reluctantly gets dropped into her palms, all she does is smile again and finally run out the door.

The sun is completely gone, there’s not a lot of people around, and when Naty walks out, Ludmila’s standing perfectly still on the sidewalk, clenching her fists like whoever walks by her next is going to get sucker punched.

Naty frowns. How did she make things even worse? All she was supposed to do was help Ludmila, or get out before interfering as much as she did. Instead she only managed to ruin her coffee, her top, and her whole day. Stupid, stupid Cupid. Why couldn’t she just do what she was told? Help Violetta and leave? Find a way to go back even without being beamed up, without waiting for Angie’s final word? Because Naty will follow an order perfectly, but when she’s left to her own devices - that’s when the trouble starts.

A brainless machine filled to the brim with heedless wants and desires, that’s what Naty was. Broken. And Angie isn’t bringing her back up because she wanted to get rid of her anyway. A pretty shitty way to fire her.

And even now she’s only thinking of herself and not Ludmila, her presumed mission, or side mission, or anything in between, who is the first one to speak. “Well, it’s getting late, and I’m sure you want to go back to your place, so…” she holds out the bag for Naty to grab. “This is yours.”

Naty’s eyes go from the bag all the way to Ludmila’s awkward stare. Clearly she’s mortified over whatever happened inside that shop. Naty doesn’t exactly know what her next move should be. She has about a thousand questions locked and loaded to throw Ludmila’s way, but given the woman’s state, she’d rather keep them to herself.

Should she…leave her be now? Well - she’s made enough a mess to last her a lifetime, that’s for certain. But however she looks at it, there’s something stronger than her self-commiseration that drives her hand to linger when she grabs the handle of the bag, as she and the blonde’s fingers brush together and she gets the most comfortable jolt of goosebumps she’s ever felt. By all logical accounts, the smartest option is to walk away and never look back.

But every time their eyes have met today, there has been a sort of hunger in their stares, a force that started with Ludmila being able to see her at the firm, and that should end now - and yet Ludmila’s breath is stuck between her lips, as she waits for Naty to do something, anything to not leave things the way they are. That woman in the shop brought her down. It’s only natural Naty picks her back up. It’s time to give up on trying to understand whether the force is simple magnetism or the magnitude of an upcoming devastating earthquake, and just go with it. If Naty’s stuck on Earth she’ll go down swinging.

“What’s your favourite place in this town?” she says, still holding onto the bag but not taking it away from Ludmila’s grasp - this way it looks like they’re one stupid out loud word away from holding hands. Ludmila tilts her head. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer it, ok? What’s your favourite place in Buenos Aires?”

For a moment, it looks like the blonde seriously takes the question into consideration. Then she shakes it off with a slight shiver. “Why do you want to know?”

“I wanna take you there,” Naty admits sheepishly. Ludmila’s eyes widen. “Nat-”

“I’ve been nothing but a nuisance to you today,” the Cupid forces out a hearty laugh that sounds more like a cough. “I want to make it up to you, please. Tell me wherever you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

“Natalia…” Ludmila runs a hand down her face, exhaustion and consternation both clear in her features. “Why don’t you go have dinner and call it a day?”

“I don’t- I barely ever eat.”

The blonde eyes her up and down with a scoff, “Yeah, you don’t need to tell me, I can see that. Look, I just want to go home.”

One thing right. Naty needs to do one thing right tonight. She cannot give up. She’s the best Cupid that’s ever walked the Earth, and she’ll be as stubborn as all hell if it means Ludmila can have at least a good ending to a terrible day. “You won’t ever see me again after today. I’ll disappear from your life, and you can forget you ever met me. But let me do this for you now.”

Ludmila suddenly drops her hold on the bag, and crosses her arms with unease. “Where are you going?”

“I…” There’s no need to fabricate plausible lies now, but Naty still tries her best to come up with something that makes at least a bit of sense. “I’m leaving tonight, I’m going back to uh- to Spain.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, the train’s at- um, midnight.”

“You’re taking a train to Spain?”

“Well-” Crap. Naty isn’t great at geography. “The train to…the airport, I mean. Of course.”

“Right…so you came here for a job interview, and now you’re leaving? What did you need a job for if you’re not staying in Buenos Aires anyway?” Ludmila’s tone isn’t sarcastic, or sour, mean-spirited as it was earlier. She’s almost having fun with questioning Naty’s ulterior motives, and the hint of a laugh dancing around her perfect teeth as her breath steadies is incredibly endearing. Naty wants to laugh too, though this is no laughing matter. “I’ve got a lot of things going on, ok? My schedule is all over the place-”

“There’s an observatory,” Ludmila cuts her off, her voice wistful. “I guess you could say that’s my favourite place,” she mocks Naty’s choice of words and exaggerates an awful impression of the Cupid, who just shakes her head in confusion. “But it’s not like you can take me there, Natalia. It closed hours ago.” She sighs, looking at her shoes again, “I appreciate that you’re trying to do something nice for me, I do. But I…I don’t deserve it. What that woman said in there-”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Naty chimes in, “that woman is a douchebag and I hate her. I don’t care what she thinks of you. I know it’s not true.”

“Natalia, you’ve known me for not even half a day.”

“You’re a good person, Ludmi,” Naty says firmly as if she was stating an indisputable truth. Then, when she realises the woman in front of her’s reaction is less than favourable, red in the face and mouth agape, she hurriedly corrects herself: “La. Ludmi-la. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Naty, no, Angie’s teachings ring distantly somewhere in her head. I understand your first instinct with tough nuts to crack is to leave them be, but you need to push until you hear the click. They’re always worth the trouble.

And damn it, Angie really was the wisest among them, when she wasn’t casually toying with Naty’s entire existence. “Wait, no, I know why I did. Because I believe it. You’re good.”

Ludmila snorts hoarsely, “I think half the world’s population would love to disagree with you.”

“Screw the world, it’s you I’m talking with, isn’t it?”

With nowhere else to turn, Ludmila’s features gradually get less tense, a neutral if cautious expression spreading over her entire face. “You’re quite the charmer, Nat.”

“I just want you to take a chance on me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, you could be a serial killer who’s flirting with me just to get me alone somewhere where you can slit my throat, cut me into tiny pieces, put me in a blender and drink my-”

“That is not gonna happen,” Naty raises her voice, one second away from putting her hands over her ears. “I am not a serial killer.”

Ludmila looks at her unimpressed. “Wow. Now I’m totally convinced.”

“Look, I’m not gonna force you, ok? I just think I’m way better company than another night alone in your apartment!”

“And how do you know I’ll be alone?” The blonde mutters. I can see it in your aura would be the truth, but that’s such an insane answer that if Naty’s point was to have Ludmila trust her then this is definitely not the way to go. So let’s scratch the entirety of the conversation. “I wasn’t flirting with you.”

“I sure hope you weren’t,” Ludmila gawks, “there’d be no point in that. You’re leaving in like- three hours.”

“And you have a fiancé,” Naty points out. Ludmila’s gaze is impenetrable. “Right.”
“Right.”

You couldn’t call it silence - they’re still in the middle of a very busy metropolis - but another long minute of quietness washes over the two of them, now the ball in Ludmila’s field. The moment is fatal and it’s all a question of whether she’ll slam it back into Naty’s side of the stadium like in a bloody massacre of a volleyball game, or-

Naty sees it before Ludmila actually replies, that in her grey aura flickers with pink and yellow for just an instant, a shade of bright lilac blossoming in the pits of her stomach and arriving right where her heart is. So even before she opens her mouth the Cupid can’t help but grin in anticipation.

“Ugh, fine! Let’s go to the observatory. It’s not like there’s anything we can do there, but if you care so much-”

“Yes!” Naty beams, and in a moment of joy that stems from a part of her she was never aware she possessed, a flock of emotions takes the best of her and before she knows it, she’s twirling her way to hug Ludmila.

Ludmila. A complete stranger who reasonably freaks out. “No,” she takes one step to her right, making Naty stumble and nearly fall to the ground. “That’s too much.”

“Sorry,” Naty says sheepishly, but the grin doesn’t leave her. “Shall we go then? You said yes so no take-backsies.”

“How old are you to still be saying take-backsies?” Ludmila buries her face in her hands, “I’m already regretting this.”

“So sweet of you to think you ever had a choice in the matter,” Naty echoes her earlier words, and with a sigh that comes from deep within her, Ludmila leads the way to what will hopefully be the end of an impossibly long evening. “Did you call me Ludmi?”

“Uh-” the Cupid blushes, “I’m sorry, spur of the moment-”

“I remember I used to call myself that in elementary school. I would sign my schoolwork with a glittery yellow pen. Ludmi, with a little bright star right next to it.” Ludmila chuckles to herself, then takes a contemplative moment to consider her next words. Ultimately, she just shrugs, as if the sentence she wanted to try out couldn’t stand on its legs not even in her brain. “I don’t mind it.”

Ludmila Castillo is a predator, big and scary and ruthless and unapproachable, but Ludmi? Ludmi is…a finch. A tiny, bouncy cute finch that could fit in the palms on anyone’s hands. And trotting behind her right now, Naty almost wants to cup her cheeks and fly her in the night sky herself. Would it impress her, to see Naty’s angelic wings in all its majesty? Would she gape at knowing Naty’s a celestial being sent from above? How would she react?

Naty doesn’t want to know, because for now, until she has to be reminded, she’s just as much human as Ludmi is.

(Also, judging by her intermittent sneezing in the quiet moments they’ve shared, Ludmila might be actually be allergic to feathers. That would make things a lot more inconvenient.)

About thirty minutes - and thousands of frivolous questions - later, Ludmila can finally unclench her teeth at the sight of the dome she knows so well.

Naty had positively worn both her ears off by asking anything her mind could come up with: favourite colour, favourite animal, whether or not she believed in the existence of phoenixes - that last one was plain weird, but Naty had justified it by saying she needed to settle an argument with her sister.

One thing about this Natalia Vidal is that it feels like she’s plummeted from another dimension all the way down to Earth, from the fact that she acts like everything is so distant and new and fascinating to her. She walks around staring at simple trees and signs and mailboxes and always finds something to say, clumsy anecdotes and questions Ludmila feels obligated to answer, incredibly unfunny jokes, and bird facts. From her clothes to her behaviour, her incredibly bright eyes glowing of light themselves, and her infectious grin, Ludmila has to start wondering where the hell this perfect mess of a woman has spawned from.

Spain? Ludmila knows Spain, as a matter of fact her best friend (Diego would hate to be called that and it’s exactly why all these years later she still does) comes from Spain, and she’s lived there herself for a short while, too. Something else was in Naty’s water.

Maybe she’s just high or drunk off her mind. Could be, from the way she’s been acting this whole day. If that’s the case, then Ludmila can write this whole day off as charity work and not whatever storm’s been brewing in her brain - and heart.

“Alright,” she whistles unceremoniously, turning to Naty once they’re at the entrance. “Welcome to the Sally Ride observatory.”

“Ooooh,” Naty looks in front of her attentively, “I can see why you’d like it so much.”

“Natalia, that’s just the building. You’d need to get in to actually see the whole thing.”

The other girl raises an eyebrow, puzzled. “But it’s an observatory and- I’m observing it.”

Ludmila tries so hard to not just leave this woman right here and go home, but with only the breeze accompanying the quiet of the night, she can now literally hear the braincells exploding in her skull. “What you are observing is a closed fence. Because guess what? This place closed hours ago, as I’ve already told you.”

Naty frowns. “So we came all the way here for nothing?” Ludmila wants to bite down on her own fist so hard she sees at least some kinds of stars, but alas. “That’s what I’ve been telling you this whole time!”

The Cupid massages her chin, wondering what her next step should be. Just sulking on their own in a pretty deserted street, when Ludmila, her Ludmi’s favourite place in the whole world is just right in front of them? Now, she’s fond and respectful of her sacred angelic rules, but human ones? She can close an eye on. Plus, the end justifies its means, right? Naty feels like they have to get in there, one way or another, so maybe - just maybe - Ludmila’s soulmate is in there, stuck in the observatory, and in dire need of help? She has to trust her instincts even if she’s getting fired tonight. Maybe she won’t be able to give Ludmila a fairytale ending, but at least she’ll take her somewhere she likes. And who knows, maybe Naty can like it as well. She’s dabbled in terrestrial pleasures before.

“Do you wanna get in?” Ludmila glances at her smirk with a horrified expression, way beyond just being done with her. “Are you stupid?” Naty purses her lips, which makes the blonde sigh deeply, “Don’t answer that.”

“We could still…jump,” Naty gestures at the fence, short enough for both of them to be able to make it with each other’s help. “You- you realise that’s trespassing, right?” Ludmila guffaws, “Do you wanna extend your stay in Argentina by being locked in jail for Lord-knows-how long?”

“We won’t get caught,” Naty reassures her, but of course, just her words aren’t enough, because Ludmila has no idea Naty is quite literally invisible to the human eye. “You’re not seriously trying to talk me into this,” she deadpans.

Naty’s mouth twists into a little grin. “Maybe I am.”

“No.” Ludmila’s eyes are wider now. “Absolutely not.”

“What if I tell you I can get us in and out without anyone noticing we were even here? I have a little trick.”

“Yeah, a little trick called experience, I imagine. Are you some sort of master criminal? I’m not going to be your associate. I’m out of here,” Ludmila spins on her heels.

But you can’t fool a Cupid. Naty knows how badly Ludmila wants to get in as well. “Do you trust me?”

“How could you even ask that?” The blonde says, still walking away - albeit slowly enough that Naty’s words can still reach her ears. “Of course you don’t. Then trust yourself. You want this just as much as I do. I know you know tonight can’t end like this.”

Hesitantly, but with a curious gleam in her dark eyes, Ludmila turns Naty’s way again. The look is so earnest and sincere that it nearly knocks the wind out of Naty, sucking out of her lungs the words that have been spinning and spinning around her brain the whole day: “Don’t you feel like there’s a reason why we met?”

Ludmila looks inside herself to find some stupid remark, some disastrous joke that can get her off the hook. But instead, the usual sour feeling that fills her heart and pumps blood into her veins wanes to make way for something that, on her first breath after Naty’s words, makes her almost dizzy with childish glee. Reign yourself in, hija, a voice not too dissimilar from the woman who took that joy out of her reprimands her in her head. And that’s the final push Ludmila needs to give in.

“If the reason why we met is breaking and entering then we definitely are the stars’ least favourite marionettes,” she scoffs, but her silly little jog all the way back to Naty’s side makes the Cupid’s heart swell with so much relief she’s sure her fake human ribcage is seconds away from splitting in two. “So what’s the master plan, mastermind?”

Naty’s smug little smile barely curves the edges of her lips, her full cheeks giving in to a hint of dimples on both sides. She holds out her hand. “Just don’t ever let go.”

Ludmila looks her up and down for what must be the thousandth time that day. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“So the way to not get caught is holding hands?”

Naty shakes her head yes, wild curls bouncing with her movement. “Exactly.”

“I’m totally fucked, aren’t I?”

“Possibly. Or you’re in for the best night of your life. Your favourite place in the world all to yourself, that’s an interesting prospect, isn’t it? Well- I’d be there, but- I promise I know how to shut up.”

Ludmila snorts, “No, you don’t,” and for the second time that day, their hands meet and their fingers intertwine as if their skins were made of glue. And Ludmila can’t really explain it to herself, either, but the second they connect like that, it’s like every worry washes over her like a wave that only seemed scary from a distance. What she’s facing is at worst, a criminal charge, but at best, probably the best gift anyone’s ever offered her. A chance to feel, for once, like the only person in the universe - and that not being a bad thing. Naty must have some crazy magic powers to be able to achieve that.

It was a terrible, terrible idea, to trust this clumsy, air-headed fashion disaster of a stranger, but when was the last time she did something this spontaneous? The last time an endless and boring day of hers wasn’t planned to the last minute detail? Even more, when was the last time anyone ever thought to plan something like this for her and her only? When the only answer she can come up with for herself is never, she squeezes Naty’s hand tighter, and the woman reciprocates the gesture, silent acknowledgement that as long as she’ll let her, she won’t ever let go. For now, for today, for these last three hours she’ll probably ever see her in her life, it will be enough.

“If I get banned from here just know I’m moving to Spain with you.”

Every time Naty notices a surveillance camera in the corner of a wall, she tugs at Ludmila’s hand, jerking her closer than close: according to her knowledge, as weird and nonsensical as her powers are, there’s nothing that forbids her to share some of her magic with an unsuspecting human. Ludmila doesn’t know she is completely invisible right now - or at least Naty hopes it worked, but no alarms have blared and no hidden special guards have kicked them out of the premises yet, so it should be ok.

“You really aren’t gonna tell me how you did this?” Ludmila furrows her brows, staring right into the eye of a camera. “I’m kind of a tech wiz,” Naty only replies with a pathetically fake confident tone, as if that explained how she managed to open the lock of the gates with just one hand - yes, Cupids are also insanely strong. And they’re allowed to break a couple things as long as it’s in keeping with their assigned mission. The answer in her head has been flip-flopping, but now Naty’s more set on this all still being part of the mission. Whatever that word means now. After all, if Ludmila loves space, maybe her soulmate is a star. In that case, Naty will find the brightest centimetre of sky she can and deliver it to her personally.

“Alright, here we are,” Ludmila finally drags Naty through one of the doors: since the last person in the planetarium rightfully turned off all electricity before locking the place up for the night, the two have been using Ludmila’s phone flashlight to move around the building, though the blonde seemed to know this place like the back of her hand either way. “Usually, you’d get a guide to walk you through the tour, but well. You have me tonight.”

“Best guide I could ask for,” Naty says sweetly - though Ludmila, being Ludmila, only takes it as mean-spirited teasing. “Shut up,” she rolls her eyes. “Uh…ok, um, worst guide I could ask for…?”

“I said zip it, Natalia. Now…”

The room Ludmila’s led the two of them into is complete and utter darkness, as if they’d walked right into a black hole. Being where they are, Naty wouldn’t put it past them that this is only the newest type of space attraction. Ludmila puts her phone light between her teeth and crouches down by the entrance. “The panel should be here,” her words come out muffled. Naty, forced to get on the floor as well since Ludmila can only be invisible by proxy via handholding, offers: “I can hold the light for you, if you want.”

“I can do this myself,” Ludmila groans, Naty having great difficulty making out what she’s saying in the first place. “Hey, I mean it, you’re not here on your own. Let me help.”

“No-” The phone clatters to the ground, Ludmila quick to grab it with her free hand again. “I said I’m doing this.”

“And I said I’m going to help you,” Naty gets all up in her personal space. “Now, what are we looking for?”

“We are looking for nothing. But I’m searching for the panel to control the ceiling lights.”

“Ah, that one?” Naty points to a small box under a desk the legs of which stand right next to Ludmila’s foot. Blushing from the embarrassment of not having located it herself first, the blonde bites her lip, barely concealing an irritated shriek. “Yeah, duh. Now, if I remember correctly, which I always do, this electrical system runs independently from the rest of the building’s electricity, so we should be fine without turning the whole thing on.”

Naty nods, but a question lingers in her puzzled glance. “So…how does this work?”

“If you let me turn on the- things here, instead of interrupting me-”

“Sorry,” Naty whispers, “but I think you need a key to open that…”

Regrettably, Naty is right: the panel is trapped inside the greyish box, which is effectively locked up. “Will you stop stating the obvious?!” Ludmila mutters, “I’m trying to make this work, or I brought you all the way here for nothing!”

Naty’s features soften into a sympathetic smile, “Hey, I insisted…”

Ludmila sighs loudly, “No, I’m- I’m an idiot. For having trusted-” The abandoned phone light on the floor barely reaches her face, but even this way Naty can see her squeezing her eyes shut. “For thinking I could do this.”

“You can’t do impossible things,” Naty nudges her with the shoulder closest to hers, “and hey, I’m having fun anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re insane,” Ludmila scoffs. “You invited me out to coffee after ruining my shirt and you still stuck with me even after knowing I’m the daughter of a criminal, and you just broke your way into this place. This whole day, you’ve been doing impossible things. First of which, pretending to like me and being good at it- if the therapist thing ever falls through, you’ve got a promising acting career ahead of you, Natalia.”

Each word that comes out of Ludmila’s ramble breaks Naty’s heart even more, because how could she possibly think…? After all that happened, why would Naty fake liking Ludmila? What wasn’t there to like? Truth is, Naty probably should’ve left hours ago, not engage in silly human activities and risk compromising her mission. But something about Ludmila made her nearly magnetic, impossible to walk away from and with the ability to make you completely forget why you would ever want to walk away in the first place. The entire world seems to think the opposite from just the couple of interactions she’s seen this woman have today, but honestly, they’re missing out - though at least while she’s here, Naty’s glad she doesn’t have to share.

“You’re fun, and you’re smart, and you’re nice- you bought me a shirt, and you barely know me! You gave me no reason not to like you,” the Cupid smiles brightly, a smile Ludmila has to get closer to see properly, given the lack of proper lighting. “That’s not being nice, it’s an act of bribery to stop you from leaving me.” She shakes her head, “Can’t believe I just admitted that. I need to stop latching onto the first poor fool I come across like this.”

“I’m glad I’m the fool you latched onto. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages,” Naty says, and means it. “I really am sad to leave, you know.”

“That means the bribery worked,” Ludmila replies hoarsely, though there’s clear amusement in her tone. “No, that means you’re not as bad as you think you are,” Naty interjects.

Ludmila breathes deeply, leaning her head against the wall behind her - despite the conversation having changed entirely, she still holds Naty’s hand with no sign of letting go anytime soon, the gesture now so spontaneous to the both of them they forget they’re even touching in the first place, they forget they’re not actually biologically attached at the wrists. “Let’s make this a proper therapy session, shall we?”

“Hey,” Naty leaves the bag at one side of the desk in front of them, and caresses Ludmila’s arm with her now free hand: the second she realises what she’s doing, she retracts it quickly, but Ludmila sends her a strange glance she can only translate to that felt good, do it again. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, ok? I meant it earlier at the coffee shop, I don’t want to be your therapist, I want to be your friend.”

“Why?” Ludmila asks, the most earnest word Naty’s heard her say this entire day. “Why would you? That’s what I can’t understand, Natalia, why are you still here?”

“Where else would I go?”

“The entire world, for starters, or- your home, God, you could cross the street and try your luck with the first person you bump into and it’d still be a luckier match than me.”

“I’m not interested in anyone else, Ludmi.”

Ludmila’s breath hitches, as if her heart had started throbbing at the mere idea that someone could possibly have the planet at their fingertips and still choose her. Well, if Naty is this much of an idiot, the least she deserves is a little honesty. “My name- my last name isn’t Castillo.” Naty shifts uncomfortably in her sitting position on the floor, “You don’t need to-”

“It’s Ferro. That’s what the cashier at that shop called me. Ludmila Ferro,” she winces at the sound coming from her own mouth, like it physically pained her to spit it out, like broken glass. “That’s how everybody knew me, and well…how some people still know me, and will ever know me, I suppose.”

Naty can’t say she isn’t curious to know what the story of Ludmila’s life entails, but the way she’s struggling to get through a few words saddens her more than anything else. “Ludmi, I mean it, if it’s too hard-”

“No, no, stop saying that. I do need to tell you. You have to know. I’m not a good person,” she lets out a breathy laugh that she may have wanted to sound reassuring, “and I can’t in good faith let you live under that illusion. The things I’ve done, Nat…the lives I’ve ruined-”

“I don’t-”

“And yes, it might’ve been my mother’s influence, how she raised me, but I- I still should’ve stopped way earlier than I did. I just…wanted to be at the top, and she told me to stop at nothing, and I followed her orders to a fucking t, Natalia,” another short, strange fit of laughter, that coats her every word as if she couldn’t get through her train of thought without thinking of it as some sick joke. “And no matter how far I go, how much I distance myself from her, no matter how much Germán insists on being a supportive father figure and how many phoney job positions Vilu offers me, I’m still a Ferro. I can use their last name and I can pretend my whole life, but I’m still my mother’s daughter.” With one last sharp chuckle, Ludmila turns to Naty, and finally the Cupid sees the tears swimming in her dark brown eyes: “I called you my sister’s basket case project, but that’s me. I’m the one who got hired out of pity. And she can say whatever she wants, but we both know very well what my presence there means. Her heart’s too big for her own good, she really wants to change the firm from her father’s ways. She truly believes she can change the world. Hah. She’ll probably manage to do all that before she gets to change me.”

Naty has no idea what to say now, as Ludmila wipes at her own eyes before those pesky tears threaten to crawl their way out. “So yeah, that’s me. The real me, not whoever I convinced you I was before. From now on, whatever you decide to do with that information, at least you’ve been properly warned.”

The Cupid can do nothing but stare out into the complete darkness, the only soundtrack to her spiralling thoughts the muffled and badly hidden sobs coming from Ludmila. So…this is it, then. A broken woman further broken, her fiancé definitely off with her sister by now, and just a few minutes to midnight for Naty to make sense of this apocalyptic, to say the least, scenario. At the dawn of February 15, Naty cannot stay on this planet any longer, so she’ll leave behind a complete failure of a mission. Was it really her fault, for trying to fix something irreparably broken? Was it her blinding optimism that cursed her? Was it finally time for Naty to retire her impeccable act? She messed up, badly. It’s over.

But Ludmila…she can’t just be destined to live the rest of her life in this hopeless predicament she built for herself, can she? Naty might have been the wrong person for the job, but it can’t be this hopeless, can it? There has to be a way. She meant what she said earlier: as hard of an exterior as she puts up, at the end of the day Ludmila is very fun to be around. She’s eccentric and loud and untameable, but she’s made Naty laugh and made her heart beat faster than ever and made her feel so, so human, so that has to count for something. She deserves a happy ending, a smile on her face before Naty leaves, going to sleep knowing the day ended better than how it started. Plainly, a reason to get up tomorrow morning. Poetically speaking, Naty needs to take the brightest constellation the night can offer down from the sky and put Ludmila in its place. No comparison when it comes to her shine. Everyone deserves to see, to look up into the darkness and-

Well.

Naty may not know who the guy upstairs really is, but at the end of the day, the word that comes closest to what she could be defined as is angel. And angels can do miracles. Is it highly advised against for her to use so much of her power this one day for a random person? Probably, yes, but Angie gave her a secret illogical mission, so she’s allowed to do whatever she wants at this point.

So with just a blink of her eyes, Naty turns on all the lights on the ceiling. Ludmila’s eyes go wide as she looks at the abandoned panel on the floor. “How did I…?” she starts, wide-eyed and with her lips slightly parted. She turns to Naty, and any other word dies right then in her throat.

She is beautiful, her big brown eyes aglow from the light of the reproduction of the night sky, curls adorning her face all the way down to her mouth, gradually breaking into a soft smile. A vision. Otherworldly, and in this moment Ludmila could almost say words she has barely dared to think in nearly thirty years of her life. Caught up in the moment, she has to stop herself from letting out a stunned wow. Naty is quite possibly the most gorgeous person she’s ever met. How could people possibly pay attention in therapy while they’re looking at that?

Naty stares back - that she thought Ludmila was beautiful, she was already well aware, but she has the advantage to say she’s seen many, many wonders and art and colours and life of any kind, and Ludmila is still the prettiest among them all. And she has no idea. The last time Naty allows herself a selfish thought, she recites it quietly in her head, I wish I could spend the rest of my life showing her how amazing she is. Then it’s done, and she starts again.

“You shouldn’t speak of yourself that way,” she states, standing up. Simple, concise, and right where it needs to land: Ludmila, still speechless, fights back a small blush. Naty’s hand picks her up, and there they are, staring into the night sky and all its constellations. Ludmila can’t help but grin at her favourite sight. And Naty grins at her favourite sight, too.

When she was tearing into herself earlier, her voice was rough, unforgiving, almost cruel with pathos. Now the tone she uses is full of care, as if she was meticulously folding every word like freshly ironed laundry in her favourite drawer. “I’ve never had this room to myself,” she says, “there’s always people visiting and schools and stuff…”

“It was worth it then,” Naty echoes what must’ve been her thoughts. “I’ve always wanted to work here,” the blonde continues, lost in her own world. “It must be a dream, to do the thing you love the most, every day.”

Naty nods, her mind drifting to her own words from way back earlier in the day: I really love my job, and it’s crazy to think about someone hating theirs for me. That was definitely true. Naty loved to help and to bring love and happiness into humans’ lives. She wishes it wasn’t just a Saint Valentine’s Day thing, that she could spread joy and happy endings all year long, and-

(Enough with the human longings, she’d sworn earlier, but still, she can’t stop herself from picturing a perfect scene: working all day long, and coming back home exhausted in the evening, Ludmila waiting for her in the living room with a sweet smile and a full day of stars and planets ready to recount. Falling asleep together, waking up together, being together at all. No sky separating them.)

“You can try me as your interviewer,” she jokes. Ludmila’s head spins her way abruptly. “What?”

“Yeah, like a job interview. Think you’ve got the stuff to work here? Let’s hear it.”

“Nat, I thought you were the one doing the interview today.”

“Well, let’s let at least one of us not fail miserably then.”

Ludmila hesitates no longer and races to the centre of the room, dragging Naty with her. She puts her free hand on a curious object, what appears to be a sphere-like sort of magnifying glass. And as she spins it underneath her fingertips, the lights on the ceiling change, making way to new constellations and sequences. “Ok, miss interviewer, ask me anything the night sky can offer and I’m pretty sure I can find it for you.”

Naty’s mind blanks. She’s seen stars up close and personal, and they’re not all that - they definitely look prettier from the Earth and in little kids’ drawings. Still, she can’t help the sheepish question at the tip of her tongue: “Are there any bird constellations?”

Ludmila goggles at her for a second before letting out a weird cackle, “Seriously, what is it with you and birds?” 

“Just a fan,” Naty shrugs. Ludmila shakes her head, as her fingers start dancing around the sphere, transforming the scenery in a game of alternate light and darkness that almost resembles a celestial dance floor. “Well, this one’s my favourite,” she finally lands on a set of stars that remind Naty of a cross more than anything. As Ludmila zooms in on the intersection between the two lines, she traces the perimeter of the constellation with her index finger. “Cygnus,” she says, looking up, her eyes completely mesmerised by the majestic scene taking place - mostly in her head, because all Naty sees is still a cross. But she knows what that word means. “Ah, a swan,” she murmurs with an unconvinced nod. “I totally see it.”

Ludmila sends a playful glare her way, then waits as if asking for confirmation to proceed with her spiel. Naty nods again, this time fully tuned in. “Please.”

Ludmila’s bright grins keep rivalling themselves in beauty. “Alright, so…I know it mostly looks like a cross, but that’s because Cygnus is formed by the Northern Cross, which is an asterism…” She narrows her eyes at Naty, but all she receives is a hopeless apologetic sigh. “Ok, doesn’t matter, just- an asterism is a recognisable pattern of stars, so basically every constellation features one.”

“So why aren’t they just called constellations?”

“Every constellation is an asterism, but not every asterism is a constellation, Natalia,” Ludmila says quickly, “keep up.”

“I’m trying.”

“Anyway, from Spain, you can find Cygnus during summer up until September. June is the perfect time, it’s when it’s the most visible.”

“I’ll send you a picture,” Naty dreams out loud. Ludmila stumbles on her next sentence, taking her eyes off the ceiling to look at the woman next to her. “Huh?”

With Ludmila’s eyes glued on her, the Cupid is forced to realise the impossibility of her words. “Uh- I mean, if you give me your number…I could send you a picture.” Don’t ask for mine, I don’t have a phone, she inwardly begs.

“Hm, better not,” Ludmila says instead, and even though it was the preferred outcome, Naty’s heart still breaks just a little at that. “I’d just ask you to come back,” are the words Ludmila adds the next breath, which superglue Naty’s heart back together in one instant. When she dares to look back at her again, Ludmila’s already back at staring up.

“Cygnus is one of the most widely known constellations not only because of the mythology surrounding it, which we can get into if you want, but also because it features so many of the most beautiful phenomena in the entire firmament. I mean, look at that,” she points to the most luminous star in the constellation, which should supposedly be the swan’s head. “That’s Deneb, or Alpha Cygni, a white supergiant that’s one of the brightest stars not only in its A-class category, but in the whole night sky. And if you look next to it, over there, you can see the NML Cygni, one of the biggest stars currently known. I mean, that’s…” Ludmila whistles, “It doesn’t get much better than Cygnus, trust me. Wait ’til you hear about the black hole. Actually, don’t wait any longer, basically…” 

As Ludmila continues her monologue, Naty’s focus drifts to the end tail of the swan, its contrasting colours fascinating her immediately. Of course, most things in this observatory are magnified to, well, observe, but the orange and the greenish-blue that collide within each other send a shiver down Naty’s spine, and as much as she knows it’ll irritate the taller woman right next to her, she can’t help the finger that reaches for that colourful star. “What is that?” she murmurs.

Ludmila is forced to interrupt her - according to her - incredibly interesting info dump to find the source of Naty’s interest. And surely enough. “I would’ve gotten to that, if you let me-”

“Ludmi,” Naty pouts. The blonde sighs, but she can’t complain: there are fewer things more captivating than this one. “Albireo,” she muses, “Cygnus’ very own binary star.”

“Binary star…” Naty repeats, trying to make sense of the term. “Is that why it’s so colourful?”

“To the naked eye, it looks like just one single object, but when you observe it with the right telescope, you’ll find it’s two separate stars, one orange giant and one blue-green hued, bound to each other by gravity.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“But why?”

Ludmila furrows her brows. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why are they bound to each other? How does that happen?”

“Well, they’re symbiotic to each other for-”

“No, no, I don’t mean scientifically speaking, I-” Naty faces Ludmila completely, “why did they choose to stick together?”

Ludmila shakes her head, eyes wide with disbelief. “Natalia, do you think stars have feelings? They didn’t choose to stick together, they- the gravitational forces pull them in.”

Naty scrunches her nose up. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s not supposed to be nice, it’s- space! It’s science, it’s maths, it’s factuality, what else is there supposed to be?”

Huh.

Oh.

Oooooooooooh.

With a few minutes to midnight, Naty finds the answer to her riddle so incredibly obvious that she has to keep herself from giggling. “It is a little romantic though, don’t you think?”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah, like they’re holding hands.”

Ludmila tenses. The thing they’ve been doing ever since they entered the building isn’t as natural as breathing anymore, but even though Naty feels her stiffening, the blonde doesn’t seem to want to let go anyway. “I’ll give you romantic,” she whispers, her free hand spinning wildly around the glass globe once again.

Then, seemingly content, she settles on a series of patterns and bright spots Naty can’t make much sense of. “Look familiar?” Ludmila questions her, and Naty almost finds the question comical. “No,” she answers matter-of-factly. Ludmila rolls her eyes, “How do you not know anything?! This is- it’s Perseus and Andromeda, at least you know the story, right?”

Perseus and Andromeda…Naty probably wasn’t around yet. “No…?”

With a long exhale, Ludmila clears her throat. “You amaze me. I’ll make it quick: Perseus is a Greek hero, kills monsters, super handsome, yada yada. He’s the guy who killed Medusa- don’t you dare ask me who Medusa is. Read a fucking book. So on his way back from his heroic deeds he finds Andromeda chained to a rock, as a sacrifice to a sea monster, and he kills the monster and frees the girl and marries her.”

“That’s…quite the story,” Naty scratches her head. “Why was she being sacrificed to a- who put her there?”

“No, the real question is, why’s she marrying the first guy that shows her an ounce of respect?”

“Well, one thing is respect and another is killing a whole monster- isn’t that a great way to prove your love for someone?”

“Yeah, someone that you met while chained to a rock. She could’ve been dangerous, or a criminal- he’s a fool.”

Despite herself, Naty feels strangely insulted. “He- he must’ve known she was the one.”

“The one,” Ludmila whispers to herself and chuckles, once again shaking her head. “You’re hilarious, Nat. What’s next, red strings and soulmates?” Then she’s back to her professor mode again, finger pointed to the shapes in the starry sky. “Perseus is that constellation in the shape of a K right there, and if you follow the tip of it, that’s his sword, it goes all the way to An-”

Ludmila has to come to a sudden halt when Naty lets go of her hand.

“What?”

Naty stares at her, an unintelligible storm clouding her eyes. “Natalia, did I seriously offend you?”

The Cupid knows it’s silly, and her face grows red - something pricks at her eyes too, that she can’t seem to control, but she stands her ground. “What’s wrong with soulmates?”

Ludmila only looks at her dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” All day Naty’s tried to figure her out, to help her - and now, Ludmila’s discrediting her centuries-old work?

“Where do I start,” Ludmila sighs. “Honestly, it’s incredibly naive of you to reduce love to something that’s written in-” she looks to the ceiling with an incredulous laugh, “the stars. Soulmates are a trap. Once you’re fated to someone then that’s it forever and you have to love that someone for the rest of your life? That’s not love, that’s torture.”

“That’s not the point, Ludmila,” Naty groans, “you’re going about it all wrong.”

“Am I?”

Naty crosses her arms, a chill going down her spine at the sudden tone change in Ludmila’s voice. “Yeah.”

“Then please, enlighten me, soulmates expert.”

“It’s not that easy- people are guided to each other, not forced into loving each other. It’s not black and white, it’s- every colour of the rainbow-”

Ludmila’s laugh this time is so loud that for a second Naty fears they may have activated the security alarm. “Every colour of the rainbow?! How old are you?!”

“Just because you’re scared of loving doesn’t mean the rest of the world has to suffer because of you!” Naty screams, and- stumbles back. “What?” she says out loud. She didn’t mean that. Did she? This is her first time doing anything that even vaguely resembles an argument. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t apologise for finally saying the truth,” Ludmila says, accompanying her words with a slow, sarcastic clap. “See, I told you this is who I am. And you insisted there was something salvageable in me- well, let me tell you my little tale about soulmates.” She clears her throat, her words now sounding like she’s reading off of a storybook for children. “My fiancé of ten years just left me for my prettier, nicer stepsister. I made him promise he’d marry me, and he did promise, and I knew he liked her from the start but he was aware of my situation and decided to help me out. Now, breaking up with me on Valentine’s Day, what a true soulmate move, huh?”

Naty feels a pang of guilt hitting her right in the stomach. “He…he’s not your soulmate,” she says matter-of-factly, but quietly, her voice almost swallowed by the eerie quietness of the room, save for the buzzing lights. “You don’t love him.”

“So who do I love? Do I have to wait around for the perfect girl to fall out of the sky or can I just pick someone to be with for the rest of my life and call it a day? I’ve had crushes, I know what relationships are as a concept. I just decide to opt out of it. And I had León, who wanted to help me right up until a second ago, before my lovely little sister decided to once again take something from me. I will not subscribe to whatever love guru bullshit you want to sell me, because honestly? I can’t do it again. I’m good.”

“You’re being unfair to yourself, you’re not letting yourself have a good thing. When he left you…it was on that call at the café, wasn’t it? And you looked- not sad, not heartbroken, but scared. You were scared of losing your cover.”

“My- are you hearing yourself right now?”

“You talk of him as if you think a relationship is something you have to have in your life. Like just another box you’re ticking. That’s not what love is. You’re afraid of being vulnerable, and opening up to-”

“It’s too little too late to play therapist now, Natalia-” 

“It’s not like you’re incapable of loving, Ludmila, you just don’t know how to! Nobody’s ever taught you! You think it’s all awful and stupid and useless, but that’s because no one’s ever shown you the beauty of it, the power of it!”

“So who’s gonna show me that? You?”

When Naty doesn’t know how to come up with an answer for Ludmila right away, she realises she has to stop in her tracks, and…take a long, deep breath. She’s panting. And Ludmila’s panting too.

And they’re close.

And now an alarm is really blaring.

“Shit, shit, shit-” Naty takes Ludmila’s hand as fast as she can and speeds down the corridor, heart in her throat. No, no, no, no. It can’t possibly get any worse than this. There’s no deeper grave than the one she just dug. It’s over, it’s all over. Ludmila broke her, and she broke Ludmila. It’s done.

Naty?

It must be a few minutes to midnight now, a matter of seconds before she finally faces whatever cruel punishment she deserves for having disobeyed and ruined her mission so thoroughly.

Naty, can you hear me? I need you to breathe.

Is Ludmila still behind her? Is Naty still running? Where is she going? What is she doing? What is Naty, who is she, now that she’ll be stripped away of her high ranking? What sort of terrible fate awaits her for being the worst, most useless Cupid the world has ever had the displeasure of knowing?

Naty! Angie’s voice thunders like a siren in her brain, snapping her awake from her tornado of fear. When she opens her eyes she sees she at least managed to bring Ludmila and herself out of and far enough from the observatory, and the alarm has miraculously stopped punching their poor eardrums. Ludmila’s been staring at her speechlessly, and now that she notices Naty seems to have joined her again on this plane of reality, she sighs out of relief. “Oh, God, I thought I lost you there for a minute.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-” Naty takes quick, sharp breaths like she’s seconds from drowning. “I just wanted to help- I just wanted to help you and-”

“Hey, hey, you did help me! You got me out of there before anyone noticed!”

“No, this was supposed to be fun,” the Cupid heaves, and something breaks in her and now she feels warm drops lining her cheeks. Ludmila looks at her alarmed, and crouches down slightly to match her height: “Don’t cry, please, I can’t really- I’m not…good with people crying,” she stumbles over her words, trying to sound reassuring or comforting or Heaven knows what. Naty laughs through her tears, then sobs again - a rush of emotions she can’t explain hitting her all at once, “I’m not a person…”

“Yes you are,” Ludmila grimaces, patting her on the head, concern plastered on her face. “You’re a great person.”

“I ruined everything!” Naty covers her face with her hands, “I ruined your life!”

Ludmila snorts hoarsely, “You don’t seriously think that’s true, do you? How could you have ruined my life?”

“I-it’s my fault if- if-”

“It’s not your fault, for anything,” Ludmila says softly, and before she knows it, she’s wrapping Naty in her arms. “You tried your best and that’s what…counts- ok, I really have no idea how to be comforting,” the blonde’s hand travels up and down Naty’s back in some sort of uncanny caress. Anyone else would find the gesture stiff and unwelcoming, but Naty just holds onto her as tight as she can. She doesn’t deserve this, she knows it - she just came and wrecked everything she saw and now she’s right about to leave again, but…

warm all over, familiar and gentle and so, so necessary…Ludmila’s hugging her.

Her first, real human hug.

And judging from the fact that Angie just called to her, her last. “I have to go…” Naty whispers, though with no intention of letting go of Ludmila’s coat. “Right, your train,” Ludmila mumbles, but Naty’s words haven’t stopped rotating in her brain from the moment she heard them.

Afraid? Scared? Ludmila Castillo’s not scared of anything. If she wants something, she gets it. She’s been through it all and she’s come out still standing, despite everything. León might have deserted her but this is not how her story ends. She won’t let him, or Violetta, or anyone dictate what she does next. She makes her choice. Not strings of fate and not fated souls. If she wants to change something, she will do it, because she wants to. It’s-

Every fucking colour of the fucking rainbow. Ah, damn it.

“Or you could stay,” she says, pressing her mouth into Naty’s curls, a part of her - the very terrified of a response one - secretly hoping Naty hasn’t heard her. But it’s not because she hasn’t, more because she genuinely cannot believe her, that Naty goes, “What?”

“You could stay here and- get a real job at the firm, and- or! Or, you could set up your…um, practice here, and be a therapist in Buenos Aires! It’s a big city, and lots of people need therapy, so you wouldn’t miss out on work, I promise.”

“Ludmi…”

“Listen, I’m not asking you to do this all for- there may not be such thing as soulmates, but there are opportunities. And maybe this is an opportunity. Natalia, you took a chance on me. Now I’m asking you to let me take a chance on you.” Her expression is earnest and scared and hopeful, and Naty’s heart is in her throat, but Ludmila isn’t done yet: “I don’t know what this is. But it’s something, and I know you know it too. You saw right through me, I don’t know how you did it, and you don’t hate me, I have no idea how you did that either. I’ve never really- dated anyone before, and I don’t know what I…maybe this is all wrong, but maybe it’s not. I’m not good at speeches, ok? I’m just-” She passes a hand through her hair, face now completely red. “Stay. Please?”

Naty feels like her feet aren’t her feet, and her arms aren’t her arms, when she disentangles herself from Ludmila’s embrace, and looks her right in the eyes and cries out in a choked sob, “I can’t,” and there’s so much she could add to that, but even when she tries, it only comes out again, more broken: “I can’t.”

Even if she failed, even if she ruined everything, she can’t let Ludmila hope there could be something with her. She deserves someone who can actually give her what she needs, not a hopeless fallen angel with a silly crush who broke every rule in the book just to let her look at some lights on the ceiling. Naty is irresponsible, and reckless, and stupid, and selfish, and Ludmila needs someone good who will be good to her and who will be here.

“Nat, you can,” Ludmila tries to keep her tone levelled, “you have to allow yourself to be happy too. You just told me, why doesn’t the same thing apply to you?”

“Because I’m not- I don’t deserve it, Ludmila,” Naty wipes at her eyes as if it could do anything to prevent the stream of tears that seemed to not want to stop anytime soon. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I think I don’t deserve you either,” Ludmila scoffs, “but we owe it to ourselves to try this out, right?” She jokingly adds, “Come on, what if we’re soulmates?”

“I don’t have a soulmate,” Naty says soberly, and tentatively starts to walk away. In the distance, she can hear the first gong striking midnight. “I’m sorry, Ludmi.”

When she’s far away enough that she thinks Ludmila can’t hurt her anymore, the blonde lets out one last scream: “You’re the scared one!”

And then the night swallows her whole.

And Naty’s completely alone.

It all gets black, and Naty starts to feel herself lose her tethers to Earth, her body slowly becoming completely immaterial again.

That’s it.

See you next time, you unsalvageable mess of an incredible planet.

Until next time, human beings and birds alike.

And Ludmila? If there’s such a thing as karma - or a lucky star, or anything of the sort, though the choice of wording isn’t ideal at the moment - Naty will never, ever cross paths with her again.

Or in many years to come, perhaps they’ll cross paths: Ludmila’s hair will be grey, and she will have moved on with someone who truly deserves her, and she will have led a happy, satisfying life as Naty knows she will, and Naty will have remained the exact same fake human she was today. Timeless and immortal and utterly and inexorably alone.

Naty does not have a body anymore - and yet the feeling that tears are still pricking at her eyes is inescapable even now.

She’s right, you know.

Naty hears her from all around, sees the white around her, sees the mass of golden brown hair somewhere in her blurry reality - she knows she’s reached her home, the place the Cupids reside until next Valentine’s. It’s not life as a human being perceives it, after all, incorporeal beings have different senses and inhabit different lands. All Naty knows about Angie is that she’s her boss, and she’s the most beautiful and kindest soul of them all. And that this year around, she totally fucked up. I don’t wanna talk, Angie.

I owe you some apologies, Angie murmurs softly. I understand this was not the best-

No, it wasn’t! Naty explodes. What was that all about?! A mission inside a mission- inside a mission?! And what- why didn’t you tell me León had a whole secret fiancé?! Why could she…why could she see me? I did nothing and she could see me…

Angie’s warmth surrounds Naty in what could only be described as an embrace of some sort, I’m sorry, Natalia, I really am…you were great down there, you did all you could and you did it splendidly.

Splendidly? Naty laughs. I ruined it all. I ruined it because I wasn’t given instructions, Angie! Why did you do this to me?! I never did anything wrong, why this punishment?!

Oh, Naty… Angie softly strokes her curls, letting her openly sob on her shoulder. Today, on Earth, what did you feel?

What didn’t I feel? Naty snorts. Sad, angry, happy, I felt- everything. It was so…intense, and chaotic, and beautiful…surrounding me and destroying me and making me whole- it was so…

Human? Angie finishes her sentence, and Naty looks up to see her blinding light staring right back at her. What was all of it for, Angie?

Angie sighs lovingly, her comfort already washing away all of Naty’s anxieties. She’s not angry, so at least the little Cupid knows she did nothing wrong. My dearest Naty, you think you can hide your feelings from me. But I know what your heart harbours. I tried giving you something I knew you were after.

W-what do you mean?

I gave you humanity, Angie finally puts a name to Naty’s adventurous day. I gave you a challenge, something unexpected. A hard one. A difficult woman.

Naty thinks back to Ludmila. Difficult sure is a way to put it.

But today, I gave you an entire day to be Naty Vidal, on Earth, you as yourself. Not a messenger, not an angel, no one but yourself. And the feelings you felt, the day you lived - that was all you, as true as you can be on that planet.

Why- why didn’t you tell me? Naty says, her voice dry.

You know yourself as well as I do. Had I proposed something that would’ve benefited you and you alone, would you have accepted it? You’re good-natured, Naty, but sometimes it can be to a fault. I wanted you to have a day to think about yourself…to bring a happy ending to yourself, instead of another one of those humans you like so much.

This revelation catches Naty off guard. But then, it starts making more and more sense.

As much as she’d thought Ludmila was part of her mission, all along, she made the decision to go to the coffee shop, and she followed her to the store, and she took her to the observatory. There were no rules telling her to do all of that. For one day, one blessed day, she was completely human. And all her mistakes were human mistakes, and all her emotions were human emotions.

So why could she see me?

Angie pauses, pensive. I suppose you were also right, she concludes with a chuckle, it’s not black and white. Sometimes we as Cupids think we have complete authority over who meets when and where. But love, you’ll know this better than I do, is a kind of magic we will never be fully able to understand.

The words ring in Naty’s head over and over again, but this time she just lets them. Angie is right. And Ludmila is right, too. Love isn’t written in the stars. It’s not written anywhere, actually. It’s all about the choices you make, and the risks you take, and the people you choose. It’s everything you can feel and everything that you know can break you, but that you decide to face, in spite of the unpredictability.

Naty was not destined to meet Ludmila in any way, but she did.

My gift to you does not end here, Naty, Angie continues. You’ve consistently been one of our greatest assets, and you’re one of the Cupids that I trust the most. But I feel it in you, that you’re unsatisfied. This life is not the one you want.

I’m sor-

There is no need to apologise, please. You have simply outgrown this place. You’ve given all you could give me, us, and now you’re ready for more. Down there…I’ve seen you laugh, and cry, and be more alive than I’ve seen you in years and years. So I offer you this.

Naty perks up.

You can stay with me, with all of us, and continue your existence as it’s always been, working for love, helping others and everything that you’re used to. Or… Angie hesitates for just one moment. It pains her to continue on, but she must. Or you can go.

Go? Naty asks, alarmed.

Go back. To Earth. To her .

The curly-haired Cupid’s eyes go wide. You mean…?

You would be fully human, from your head to your toes. And you could lead exactly the type of life you want. Make your mistakes, meet new people, just…live how you want to live.

Angie… Naty whispers, the mere suggestion of a dream so big already making her woozy.

I know, I know this is a lot to throw on you this way. And I know you might not feel ready now. Nobody’s forcing you to make either choice. Both are completely justified and yours to make.

I would have to leave everyone behind…you…Lena-

I’m sure we could still find ways to visit, Angie reassures her quickly. You have to think about yourself now. What do you want?

Naty only hesitates for one moment, before a wide grin spreads across her face. She hugs Angie as tightly as she possibly can, and Angie sheds a tear or two, already aware since the beginning of this whole idea that Naty would’ve chosen this. Now, who she chose…is interesting, but life and love are surprising that way.

Vilu is still apologising by the time Ludmila’s miles away from the observatory. Honestly, Ludmila isn’t even really sure why she picked up her phone in the first place. “Vilu, I said it’s ok-”

“Promise me, promise me it’s a hundred per cent ok. Because if it’s not I can-”

“We weren’t actually dating, you know?” she laughs. “I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” Vilu interjects, and Ludmila thinks back to her metaphor: a two-headed disaster of a supposedly adult woman. Over the years they’ve grown more and more symbiotic as time passed: maybe this is the sword that cuts them in two. But swords make her think about constellations, and constellations make her think about wide brown eyes. “I think I’m happy,” she says softly, and she’s only half lying.

“How’d it go with Natalia? She was cute, wasn’t she?”

Cute is reductive. “Yeah, but she had to go back to Spain.”

“Huh. You know, she told me to go into the wrong room when I met her at the reception. That’s where I met León and…” Vilu cuts herself short, maybe not to irritate her sister further, though Ludmila sees her blinding smile all the way from where she’s calling. “Well, I guess you could say she was our Cupid of some sort.”

“What do you mean, she told you to go into the wrong room? Because she told me she was looking for a job.”

“That’s…well, maybe. She just said she wanted to speak to me, then that she’d come back another time.”

Ludmila scratches her head. Naty did not make any sense, and left her life as fast as she entered it. Ludmila’s no sentimental person, but she feels she’ll think this mystery over forever. At least, with no regret in her heart. She did what she could. “She was truly something.”

“I’m glad you had fun today,” Vilu says. “I did, strangely,” Ludmila observes, finally making it back to the firm, obviously long closed and locked. Ludmila has had enough trespassing for a lifetime, and only stares wistfully through the glass door, wondering what comes next for her. A romantic leap of faith gone wrong. What could possibly be more surprising than that? “Thank you for making us go have coffee. Maybe you were our Cupid.”

“Maybe. Oh- well, I think I should go, it’s getting pretty late. I’m at León’s, so the apartment is all yours. Anything else before I go?”

“No, just-”

Ludmila turns to her left, and at the very end of the road, she sees it, even as blind as she is, unmistakable: a cloud of dark curls running in her direction. “Actually…” Ludmila smiles broadly, “I think I’m quitting the firm,” she says, and turns off the call.

Naty reaches her, breathless in her run, but she doesn’t plan on catching her breath anytime soon: the moment she’s close enough to Ludmila, she grabs the hems of her coat and pulls her in, and connects their lips with the sort of need that’s only that powerful when it’s wholly mutual. Ludmila doesn’t waste any time, holding her by the waist - as she holds her even closer, her hands meet the fabric of a flannel shirt. She smiles into the kiss, and the second Naty breaks, she goes in again. Her new favourite place.

“I thought you were leaving,” Ludmila has to refurnish her lungs after a couple of minutes. “I missed the train,” Naty finds herself replying, not really sure of what the truth is. “But it seems I’ve caught the right one just in time.”

“Cheesy,” Ludmila sticks her tongue out, and Naty goes in again, not nearly having had enough of it. It’s between those kisses that a strange sound distracts them.

The sound is Naty’s rumbling stomach. The newly human woman blushes, “I am…now open to dinner, I guess.”

Ludmila laughs, “I’m not sure we’ll find plenty of open restaurants at nearly one in the morning, but…I can fix you something at my place.”

“Think I can stay for the night?” Naty tries her luck. “I don’t exactly have…a place to go.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” Ludmila holds her hand. It hasn’t been that long and she was already missing it. Naty looks…different now, not in anything apparent but- her aura, somehow, was more - at the cost of sounding crazy - human. But if Naty wasn’t human before, then what was she?

Ah, right, according to Violetta, Cupid. That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Plus, if you’re not super tired, you could help me go over my resume.”

“Your…” Naty’s eyes light up, beaming at Ludmila. “You’re gonna be an astronomer?”

“Let’s start at observatory worker, but we’ll see how far up the ladder I can climb,” the blonde giggles.

Naty squeezes Ludmila’s hand in hers, and in that moment, as she’s being led to her apartment, she knows: this was the best possible choice she could ever make.

(Her transformation has wiped her memory clean of ever being a celestial creature. Still, sometimes strange dreams and images take hold of her at night, and when she tosses and turns mumbling some strange language, Ludmila only distractedly goes along with it for a few moments before cuddling and kissing her back to silence. When she wakes up in the morning, the wings and feathers she remembers are so white she much rather likes to attribute them to swans.

Even if this was all the two of them, and no fate had bound them together, even if they found each other on their own, Naty still has a few constellations she thanks every now and then, and a couple of bright colourful stars in the night sky she’d shake hands with if they weren’t both so busy.)