Summer Night

The European leg of the tour passed in a blur of flashing lights, rehearsals, and performances that felt more mechanical than alive. I had learned to move without thinking, smile without feeling, and exist without truly being present.

Stefani and I kept our distance. I became good at pretending. When the group was around, I laughed at the right times, nodded when I needed to, and even managed to keep things with Stefani civil. We could be friends—or at least I could fake it well enough.

But outside of that, I isolated myself. I threw myself into training, into dance, into my body. I focused on perfection. If I exhausted myself enough, I didn't have to feel anything. And that was better than the alternative.

The tour was halfway over, and the week-long break had arrived—something we had planned months ago, before any of this had happened. Before I had ruined everything.

We were in Puerto Rico now. My home.

My aunt had agreed to host us—Stefani, Tara, Freddie, and a few of the other dancers—at her house, which sat just outside of San Juan, close enough to the beach that you could smell the salt in the air.

As soon as we arrived, I was reminded of one crucial detail I had somehow managed to forget.

Stefani and I were sharing a room.

And not just a room.

A king-sized bed.

I stood in the doorway, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, staring at the bed like it had personally wronged me.

Stefani brushed past me without a word, tossing her suitcase onto the far side of the room and unzipping it.

I clenched my jaw and stepped inside, throwing my bag down and busying myself with unpacking. The silence between us was thick, but neither of us broke it. Not a single word passed between us.

It was fine.

It was better this way.

Downstairs, my aunt had prepared a huge dinner, welcoming us all with open arms, warm smiles, and the kind of home-cooked meal I hadn't had in years. The air smelled of sofrito and fried plantains, the sound of overlapping voices filling the small house.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something close to comfort.

The conversation flowed easily over the table, laughter and stories filling the spaces between bites of food. Even Stefani and I spoke, though only in passing. It was easier here, surrounded by others, where neither of us had to acknowledge the silence that lingered between us when we were alone.

I could feel her eyes on me sometimes. But I never met them.

After dinner, we all sat outside on the porch, the night warm and heavy with humidity. The sound of coquí frogs filled the air, their rhythmic chirping a familiar song of home.

Freddie leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. "I could get used to this."

Tara laughed. "Right? Can we just never go back?"

My aunt grinned. "Stay as long as you like, mija. Mi casa es su casa."

I smiled softly, sipping from my glass of rum. This was nice. This was good.

Beside me, Stefani shifted, her arm brushing against mine.

I went still.

Stefani turned to me at the dinner table, her eyes warm but hesitant. "Lena, you should show us around. Take us to your home turf."

A small flicker of excitement lit up in my chest—an unfamiliar warmth I hadn't felt in a long time. So much of me had gone numb, but this... this still brought me joy.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go. But you all need to put on swimsuits and something warm for later. Trust me."

A wave of excitement spread through the group as they all stood, pushing their chairs back and hurrying to get changed. Stefani and I made our way upstairs to our shared room in silence. It should have felt awkward. It used to feel awkward. But tonight, it didn't.

I grabbed my bikini from my suitcase, changing quickly and throwing a loose linen button-down over it. Stefani did the same, slipping into her suit and pulling on a pair of denim shorts.

Right before we left the room, she turned to me. "I'm happy you get to be here. You seem happier."

I exhaled, staring at the floor for a moment before meeting her gaze. "This is my home. Sometimes... you just need a bit of that."

She nodded, offering me the smallest of smiles before following me out the door.

⸻

The night was alive as I led the group to a beachside bar not far from my aunt's house. It was nestled right against the shore, the kind of place that didn't cater to tourists—just locals looking for good music, strong drinks, and the sound of the ocean only a few feet away.

A wooden stage stood at the front, where a live band was setting up. The place was buzzing with energy, the scent of rum and fried food mingling with the salt air.

As soon as we stepped inside, an older man caught sight of me. His face lit up with recognition, and before I could react, he was already rushing toward me.

"¡Mi niña!" He kissed my cheek, gripping my shoulders as he beamed at me. "Mira qué grande estás. Te hemos extrañado."

A lump formed in my throat. "Tío..." I whispered, embracing him tightly.

He pulled back, squeezing my arms. "Tu papá estaría tan orgulloso de ti."

My breath hitched, but I swallowed the emotion down. "Lo extraño mucho."

"Todos lo extrañamos."

I nodded, forcing a smile. I could feel the weight of Stefani's gaze, but I didn't look at her.

Tío grinned, finally acknowledging the rest of the group. "¿Estos son tus amigos?"

I nodded. "They're family."

He clapped his hands together. "Then tonight, we celebrate!"

The group cheered as he waved for drinks, and I gestured for everyone to follow me down to the beach.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. The waves lapped softly against the shore, the horizon painted in fiery oranges and deep purples. I waded in first, feeling the warm water against my skin, and turned back toward the others.

Without warning, I splashed Freddie, who yelped before laughing and charging toward me.

Chaos erupted.

Water flew everywhere, laughter filling the air as we chased each other through the shallows. Tara shrieked as I got her in the side, and she retaliated by grabbing a handful of water and throwing it right in my face.

Then, suddenly, Stefani jumped onto my back, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

I nearly stumbled, but her laugh was warm against my ear, her voice soft as she whispered, "I've missed this."

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

The band had started playing back at the bar, and one by one, we made our way out of the water, dripping and breathless.

As we stepped onto the deck, the singer stopped mid-song, eyes going wide as he spotted me.

"¡Lena está aquí!" he exclaimed into the microphone.

The entire bar turned to look, and suddenly, cheers erupted. People came up to hug me, kiss my cheek, pat me on the back. My chest tightened at the overwhelming wave of love, of familiarity.

The singer grinned, waving me toward the stage. "Tienes que cantar con nosotros."

I hesitated. "Ay, no. No puedo—"

"¡Vamos, Lena!" someone in the crowd called.

I turned toward my friends, who were already grinning and nodding, urging me forward.

Stefani sat at a table in the back, watching me closely.

I exhaled sharply. "Está bien."

The band started playing, the fast-paced rhythm of Suavemente by Elvis Crespo filling the air. The second I grabbed the mic, the crowd erupted, clapping to the beat as I sang the opening notes.

It felt good—it felt right—to be here, to let the music move through me, to let the crowd lose themselves in the energy of the song. People started dancing, spinning their partners, moving their hips in time with the merengue beat.

And then, the music shifted.

The band transitioned into something slower, something softer—Amor Eterno.

A hush settled over the bar.

I closed my eyes, letting the weight of the lyrics settle into my bones. Tú eres el amor de mi vida, el destino no quiso que fueras para mí...

When I opened them again, my gaze found Stefani's.

She was watching me like I was the only person in the room.

Like I had just said something to her without ever speaking.

And maybe I did.