The university felt different. People no longer spoke Santiago's name aloud, but it was still there — in every gesture, every whisper, every interaction between students. He had stopped being a rumor. Now he was a scar.
Santiago walked through campus with a different air. Not arrogant, not defiant. Just... tired. He dressed the same as always, but something about the way he moved had changed.
He stopped in front of the faculty building, remembering all the time he had spent there, and the friends — or at least the people he thought were friends. A couple of professors nodded at him in passing. One of them, Professor Hernein, came closer.
—You don't have to leave so soon —said the professor.
Santiago forced a smile.
—There's not much left for me to do here. I'll be better off away from the stares.
The professor nodded, lowering his eyes. He knew. Everyone knew. But there were limits to what one could, or wanted, to say.
—I hope you find a place to start over.
Santiago extended his hand, and the professor shook it.
—Thank you for believing there was still something good in me.
—We all have light and darkness. Take care of yourself, Santiago.
The young man nodded and said goodbye with a small wave. He kept walking, knowing this would be the last time he'd walk those halls.
...
He found him waiting by the back gate of the campus, where the lights were dimmer and the city began swallowing the university. Semiel was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He didn't say anything when Santiago approached.
—I knew you'd come —Santiago said, staring at the ground.
Semiel looked at him with a neutral expression. For the first time in a long while, there was no hatred in his face. Only a kind of mourning.
—I didn't have another choice —murmured Semiel.
—Then... why are you here?
Semiel stepped forward. He looked him in the eyes.
—Because I wanted you to know something before you left.
—What?
Silence spread between them like thick cloth. Santiago held his gaze. Then, Semiel spoke:
—Thank you for everything.
That was all. No punches. No insults. Just that. Santiago looked down, swallowed hard. He wanted to say something, but no words came. Semiel was already walking away.
—Wait! —Santiago shouted.
Semiel stopped, but didn't turn around.
—WHY? WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME? SHE WAS OUR ENEMY!
—It was you or him... and I'll always choose him. Even if I have to make a deal with the devil.
And he left. Santiago stayed there, standing by the gate, as the night swallowed him whole.
...
Saval had spent the entire afternoon in the library. He didn't read. He didn't study. He just sat there, staring at a blank sheet of paper, while the clock ticked quietly in the background. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know who to believe.
When he got home, he found an envelope under the door. No name. No sender. He opened it with trembling hands.
Inside was just a note, handwritten in black ink. It said:
I didn't do it for you, but someone paid the price. Take care.
Saval froze. He read the note once, twice, three times. He recognized the handwriting, even if he wanted to deny it. He recognized the tone. He recognized the echo of something that once was.
He sat on the floor, next to the bed, clutching the note to his chest.
And then he broke down. For the first time in years.
It wasn't quiet sobbing. It wasn't a restrained cry. It was an eruption —
like time had snapped inside him.
Like guilt, sadness, love, and shame had finally found a crack to pour through.
He cried until he had nothing left.
Until the room was silent again.
Until only he remained, holding on to that last word Antonella had left him.
Goodbye, Antonella.