Finding out that Camila was my best friend hadn’t made things easier.
It made everything worse.
Because I had been the one who introduced them.
When Camila joined the company eight months earlier, she had called me first.
“Lucía, save me. I don’t know anyone there.”
So I helped her.
I introduced her to every department.
I explained the office politics.
And when Mateo initially thought her first proposal was too superficial, I defended her.
“She just needs time.”
Later, Camila thanked me.
“You’re lucky, Lucía. Mateo listens to everything you say.”
At the time, I believed her.
Now, sitting across from them at lunch, I wondered when that had changed.
Camila was still discussing the photography exhibition.
“We should go early Saturday. The lighting is better in the morning.”
Mateo nodded.
“I’ll pick you up.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, he looked at me.
“Lucía, you can come too.”
I stared at him.
A month ago, I had invited my boyfriend to the same exhibition.
Now I was being invited to tag along.
“No.”
Mateo frowned.
“What?”
“I have plans.”
“What plans?”
Before, I would have explained everything.
Now I simply said:
“Mine.”
For some reason, that irritated him.
The next Monday, I submitted my application for an internal transfer.
Content Planning Department.
I didn’t tell Mateo.
I didn’t tell Camila either.
Three days later, Director Alvarez called me upstairs.
He closed my portfolio and looked at me.
“You’ve been preparing this for six months?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you apply sooner?”
I smiled faintly.
“I wasn’t sure I was good enough.”
He pushed my proposal back toward me.
“The summer campaign concept was yours?”
“Yes.”
“The community market activation?”
“Yes.”
“The tenant interview series?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“Then someone has done an excellent job convincing you that operational work is the only thing you’re capable of.”
I didn’t know how to answer.
He approved the transfer that afternoon.
Starting the following month, I would move from facility operations to content planning.
My salary would increase.
My responsibilities would change.
And most importantly—
I would no longer report to the project structure Mateo controlled.
I walked out feeling lighter than I had in months.
Then I saw Camila standing outside.
She had obviously heard.
“You’re transferring?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I almost laughed.
“You didn’t ask.”
Her expression became awkward.
Then she smiled.
“Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
That evening, Mateo found me packing files.
“What’s this about you transferring departments?”
I didn’t look up.
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
“You applied without discussing it with me?”
“Yes.”
His voice sharpened.
“Lucía, changing departments affects our schedule.”
I stopped.
“Our schedule?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Explain it.”
He gestured toward my desk.
“Who’s going to handle the site details? You know the tenants better than anyone. And when we work late—”
He stopped.
I finished for him.
“Who will bring dinner?”
His face changed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Who will remember your medicine?”
“Lucía.”
“Who will carry your keys?”
“Enough.”
For the first time, I wasn’t angry.
That was what frightened him.
I smiled.
“You’ll figure it out.”
I walked past him.
He caught my wrist.
“Are you still angry about the movie?”
I looked at his hand.
He released me.
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
“This is me realizing I don’t like my life anymore.”
His expression froze.
“I’ve spent four years arranging my time around you.”
I continued quietly.
“I thought that was love.”
“Was?”
The single word slipped out.
I noticed it.
So did he.
Neither of us corrected it.
The following weeks changed everything.
I stopped staying outside meeting rooms.
I stopped preparing three portions of dinner.
I stopped carrying Mateo’s belongings.
And strangely, the world didn’t collapse.
Mateo forgot his charger twice.
He missed his stomach medication once.
Camila had to take a taxi back to the cinema because she’d forgotten something there.
They survived.
So did I.
Then Friday came.
My last day in operations.
My new department held a small welcome dinner.
For once, I didn’t check the time.
I laughed.
I drank.
I discussed campaigns with people who actually wanted my opinion.
At 10:47 p.m., my phone rang.
Mateo.
I declined.
He called again.
Then Camila.
I ignored that too.
At eleven, I returned to my parents’ house.
Mateo was waiting downstairs.
I stopped.
“What are you doing here?”
His face was cold.
“You didn’t answer.”
“I was busy.”
“With whom?”
“My colleagues.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve changed.”
There it was.
As if changing were an accusation.
“I hope so.”
He stepped closer.
“Are you trying to punish me?”
“No.”
“Then come home.”
I looked toward my parents’ apartment.
“I am home.”
His face tightened.
“Lucía.”
“We should break up.”
Everything became silent.
Even the traffic seemed farther away.
Mateo stared at me as though I had spoken another language.
“What did you say?”
“We should break up.”
“Because I went to a movie with Camila?”
“No.”
“Because of the exhibition?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I looked at the man I’d loved for four years.
The answer was surprisingly simple.
“Because somewhere along the way, being your girlfriend turned into being your assistant.”
His face went white.
“I never treated you like that.”
“You didn’t notice you were doing it.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“It is to the person receiving it.”
He shook his head.
“You’re emotional. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
That sentence almost made me smile.
Even now, he believed he could decide when my decision became valid.
“No, Mateo.”
I took his apartment key from my bag.
For four years, I had carried it everywhere.
I placed it in his palm.
“We’re talking now.”
He stared at the key.
Then at me.
For the first time, panic entered his eyes.
“Lucía, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“I already regret something.”
“What?”
“Waiting this long.”
I went upstairs.
Mateo didn’t follow.
Monday morning, I moved to the ninth floor.
New desk.
New department.
New projects.
At eleven, an internal email arrived.
The old shopping center campaign had been shortlisted for the company’s annual innovation presentation.
My proposal.
Director Alvarez wanted me to present it.
I read the email twice.
Then someone knocked against the divider beside my desk.
Camila.
Her eyes were red.
“Can we talk?”
I followed her into the hallway.
She crossed her arms.
“Did you break up with Mateo?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
Then I added:
“But you helped me understand why.”
She stiffened.
“Lucía, there’s nothing between us.”
“I didn’t say there was.”
“He loves you.”
I looked at her.
“Does he?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I smiled.
“That isn’t your problem anymore.”
I turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Something in her voice stopped me.
When I looked back, Camila was pale.
“There is something I need to tell you.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
Then pulled out her phone.
“I wasn’t the person who recommended myself for this company.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“Eight months ago, someone sent my portfolio directly to HR.”
My stomach tightened.
“I thought you applied.”
“I did. But HR told me afterward that a senior project manager had already recommended me.”
I already knew the answer.
Still, I asked.
“Who?”
Camila looked toward the elevators.
“Mateo.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she added quietly:
“He contacted me before I joined.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“How long before?”
“Almost three months.”
That was before she’d told me she was even considering leaving her previous company.
Camila unlocked her phone.
“I thought you knew.”
She opened an old conversation and handed it to me.
Mateo’s name was at the top.
I scrolled upward.
Work messages.
Portfolio discussions.
Late-night conversations.
Photographs.
Then I reached a message dated eleven months earlier.
Three months before Camila joined us.
Mateo: Don’t tell Lucía yet. She’ll overthink it.
Another message appeared beneath it.
Camila: Are you sure this is okay?
Mateo: Trust me.
And then the final line.
The one that made my fingers go completely still.
Mateo: Once you’re here, everything will change.
I looked up at my former best friend.
“What exactly was supposed to change?”
Camila’s eyes filled with tears.
And when she answered, I finally understood that the movie theater had never been the beginning of my breakup.
It had only been the first time I’d stopped looking away.
“Lucía,” she whispered, “there’s something about Mateo and me that I should have told you eleven months ago.”
