Selma's mood changed when he realized the house was still full of his father’s things, even after the burial, even after the soil swallowed him completely and nothing had changed.The smell was still there, engine oil on old work clothes. A faint trace of him in the air, Selma stood in the middle of the living room without moving.His shoes were still slightly damp from the cemetery and behind him, Matilde shut the door quietly like she was afraid noise might disturb something that was already gone.Selma didn’t turn, he kept staring at the couch. The same couch where Rafael used to sit tired while drinking, breathing like the world was too heavy.Matilde walked past him, her heels clicked softly against the floor. She dropped her handbag on the table then stopped. She looked around the room like she was checking what remained after a storm.Selma’s voice broke the silence “Why is his cup still there?” Then I looked at the small chipped cup on the table, She shrugged.“I forgot.” Selm

Selma noticed that the board members stopped speaking the moment he entered the room, not because he was late but because no one expected him to look that calm after everything he had built.The glass doors shut behind him with a soft click. The conference room was bright, clean and too expensive. A long table stretched across the center, filled with men in suits who were already pretending to understand his silence.Selma didn’t greet anyone; rather he simply walked to the head seat and sat down. One of the men cleared his throat.“Mr. Elias, we were discussing the expansion proposal.” Selma nodded once.“Continue.”The projector flickered on the wall. Growth projections and voices filled the room again but Selma didn’t listen to most of it.He stared at the screen like it belonged to someone else. A life he had stepped into without feeling it happen and hours later, the meeting ended.People stood, hands were shaken and smiles exchanged. Selma remained seated until the room emptied,

Selma look immediately when the elevator doors opened and she was already standing inside his private floor. He didn’t even remember letting anyone up, yet there she was with same calm eyes, same unshaken posture like boundaries were only suggestions to her. Selma stepped out slowly, the elevator doors slid shut behind him.“You shouldn’t be here,” he said flatly.She didn’t move from her position near the glass wall. “I know,” she replied. The city stretched beneath them like a living thing, lights blinking, cars crawling like ants, noise trapped far below.Selma walked past her toward the bar counter and he didn't offer her a seat, he didn’t ask questions, he poured himself a drink and stopped halfway then set the glass down untouched. She watched him, not judging, just observing. “You always do that,” she said. Selma didn’t look at her.“Do what?” “Start something then stop before it reaches you.”Selma picked up the glass again, this time he drank slowly and controlled then place

Selma paused when his car headlights caught the figure standing in front of his apartment building, he didn’t slow down immediately because he thought it might be a mistake.A trick of exhaustion but as he got closer, the figure didn’t disappear, she was still there waiting like she had decided the night belonged to her as much as it belonged to him.Selma finally pressed the brake. The car stopped a few meters away, he didn’t get down nor did she move.Rain had started again, light at first then steady. Selma stared through the windshield then finally stepped out of the car and the door shut behind him with a sharp sound. Water immediately soaked into his shoes but he didn’t care and walked toward her slowly.“You’re crossing boundaries you don’t understand,” he said. She didn’t flinch.“I understand them.” Selma stopped a few steps away and his voice hardened “No. You don’t.” She looked at him calmly.“You think boundaries are about distance,” she said softly. “They’re not. They’re a

Selma was shocked when he realized he had been standing in front of the mirror for almost twenty minutes without recognizing the face staring back at him, not unfamiliar, not new, just distant. The bathroom light was too bright, making everything sharper than it needed to be, every line on his face exaggerated, every tired shadow under his eyes feeling like evidence. He leaned closer slowly, and his reflection didn’t move; it just waited like it had been waiting for him for years.A knock came at the door.“Selma,” Matilde’s voice said, not loud, not angry, just cautious.He didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “Yes.”Silence then she spoke again. “I saw the notebook.”Selma’s jaw tightened slightly as he turned off the tap. “I know.”A pause then “I didn’t know you kept things like that,” she said.Selma looked at his reflection again and replied quietly, “I didn’t either.” Silence settled between them.Matilde hesitated.“Where did it come from?”Selma stepped away from the m