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It was common knowledge that Marta had never truly forgotten Fina. It wasn't a secret, and Marta never even tried to hide it. She simply couldn't. For a long time, Cloe told herself this didn't bother her.
After all, everyone knew Fina had been the great love of Marta’s life.
Cloe used to believe that love doesn’t just vanish when someone leaves. She understood that Fina was important, not only to Marta but to everyone around. Cloe tried her best to accept it. She truly thought she was strong enough to live in the shadow of that past.
Until last night. In a moment of total vulnerability, just when Marta was about to come undone, she let a name slip without thinking. Fina.
In that heartbeat, they both realized what had happened, but neither had the courage to speak. They lay in bed facing opposite directions, staring into the dark for hours. The space between them felt wider than ever before. Marta wanted to apologize, but the words felt too small for such a heavy mistake. Cloe waited for an explanation that never came.
By the next morning, everything had changed.
Cloe was cold. She wasn’t shouting or angry; she was just... distant. She gave Marta short answers, avoided eye contact, and stayed busy. When they passed each other in the hallway, Cloe merely nodded and kept walking. Marta felt every bit of that silence.
By the afternoon, the quiet was unbearable. Marta couldn't focus on work; she kept seeing the look on Cloe’s face. Finally, she went to Cloe’s office.
The door was slightly open. Cloe was at her desk, staring at a document. She didn’t look up when Marta knocked.
"Do you have a minute?" Marta asked softly. Cloe sighed, her eyes still fixed on the paper. "If this is about work, yes."
Marta stepped inside and closed the door. "It’s not." That made Cloe look up. Her face was calm, but her eyes looked exhausted. "Then what is it about?"
"Us," Marta said. "About what happened last night." Cloe leaned back and crossed her arms. "I didn’t think there was anything left to say."
"There is," Marta insisted. "You’ve been avoiding me all day. I don’t want to pretend this is fine."
Cloe stayed quiet for a moment. "I needed some space, Marta. If I didn't take it, I might have said things I’d regret."
Marta stepped closer, her voice trembling. "I already regret what I said."
"It’s not just about what you said," Cloe replied. "You didn't just make a mistake, Marta. You reminded me that a part of you is still living in the past with her."
Cloe stood up and walked toward the window, unable to stay still. “When you said her name," Cloe said, her back to Marta, "it didn’t sound like a slip of the tongue. It sounded natural. Like that was the name your heart was expecting to say."
She turned slightly, though she still wouldn't look at Marta. "And this is the problem. It’s the way you talk about her," Cloe continued. "She’s never just a memory. It’s like she’s still a part of your daily life. And everyone else acts the same way, as if she still belongs here among us."
She took a shaky breath. "I know you loved her. I know everyone here adored her. But she’s gone, Marta. She left you. And I am so tired of hearing her name. From you, from everyone else. No matter where I go, Fina is already there."
Marta took a step forward. "Cloe, I never intended—"
"And whenever I go into Valentina’s room," Cloe interrupted, "I see her photo. Every single time. It's like she never actually moved out." Marta froze. "Her photo?"
“Yes," Cloe said with a bitter laugh. "There’s a photo of her on Claudia’s bedside table. A photo of her with Carmen and Claudia. They're all smiling, like a perfect family." Marta looked stunned. "There is a photo of her?”
Cloe laughed again, but there was no joy in it. "Why? Are you going to go look for it now? Are you going to cry over her again?"
The words cut deep. They both felt the sting. Marta looked down at the floor. "No, I just.. I didn't know."
"I believe you," Cloe said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But it doesn't matter if you knew or not. I can feel her everywhere. I know she was the great love of your life. I’ve tried to live with that, I really have. But last night made me feel like I’m just a placeholder, standing in her spot instead of standing next to you." Her voice broke. "It felt like proof."
"Proof of what?" Marta asked quietly.
"Proof that no matter how hard you try to move on, your heart is still with her," Cloe said. "Not just in your memories, but in the moments that should belong only to us."
She finally looked Marta in the eye. "I don’t think you’re doing this on purpose. But I don’t think I can compete with a ghost who is still the center of your world."
Marta was at a loss for words. Cloe was right, and the weight of the truth felt suffocating. Although Marta wanted to reach out and comfort her, she felt like a hypocrite. How could she offer comfort when her heart was so clearly elsewhere?
"I'm so sorry, Cloe," Marta whispered, her voice barely audible. "I truly am." Cloe remained motionless. "A simple apology isn't enough anymore, Marta. You have to decide once and for all: are you actually here with me, or are you still waiting for her to come back to you?"
Cloe brushed past Marta and exited the office, letting the door click shut quietly behind her. Left alone, Marta felt her pulse racing. She couldn't stay in the office; instead, she went straight to Valentina and Claudia’s room, driven by a desperate need to see if Cloe’s words were true.
She pushed the door open cautiously. The room was quiet. She approached the bedside table, and there it was: a small wooden frame.
In the photograph, Fina was laughing, looking vibrant and full of life as she stood between Carmen and Claudia. A sharp ache flared in Marta’s chest. It was that specific, devastating pain that only surfaces when you realize you’ve lost the person who was once your entire universe. The same feeling Marta once tried to soothe with alcohol.
Picking up the photo, a sharp, painful sob broke from Marta’s chest. For the past year, she had lived only with her memories. Every night, she had tried to remember Fina’s face, terrified that the details were starting to fade. She was scared of forgetting the exact color of Fina’s eyes or the specific way she smiled.
She had been starving for a glimpse of her for months. Now, seeing her, really seeing her, felt like a physical blow to her heart.
"Fina," she whispered, her thumb gently touching the glass. For the first time since Fina had left, Marta wasn't just imagining her.
She traced the glass over Fina’s face with her fingertips. "I tried," Marta whispered to the stillness of the room. "Fina, I really did my best to move on."
Yet, staring at the image, Marta finally understood why she had uttered Fina’s name the previous night. It hadn’t been a random mistake; it was because, in her heart, she was still holding a conversation with Fina every single day. Cloe had been right all along. Marta was only pretending to move on. She was physically there with Cloe, but the space in her heart still belonged entirely to Fina.
Marta sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the picture against her chest. She knew another conversation with Cloe was inevitable, but she couldn't deny the truth anymore.
For the past year, Marta had been trying to learn how to live with the empty space Fina had left behind. She had tried to fill the silence with work and her relationship with Cloe, but seeing her now changed everything. It was a painful reminder that her efforts had failed. She realized that she wasn't "moving on"; she was simply surviving in a world that felt empty without Fina.
Outside, the colony was silent, but for Marta, the ghost of Fina was louder than ever.