The story
The silence between Clara and her cousin Elena had been gathering dust for years. They grew up together under the blazing sun of Cali, spending whole afternoons sharing childhood games and secrets, but time and family feuds eventually drove an insurmountable wedge between them. It had been a long time since they had exchanged a single word; distance had become a habit that was both comfortable and bitter. And yet, blood ties sometimes find invisible cracks to seep through, especially when the soul is left unguarded in sleep.
It happened on a heavy, stifling night, the kind where the Cali breeze barely stirs the branches of the guayacanes, the native flowering trees, and the mugginess makes sleep impossible. Clara sank into a deep slumber, and suddenly found herself in an unfamiliar place. It was a bare room, bathed in the dim, sickly glow of an unseen lamp. Elena was in a corner of the room. Her figure was unmistakable, but her condition chilled Clara to the bone: she was weeping with a grief so heartbreaking that the echoes seemed to rattle the faded walls.
Her heart heavy with someone else’s immediate pain, Clara closed the distance between them. All at once, she forgot the old grudges and the years of mutual indifference. Moved by her cousin's fragility, she leaned in close and asked what was wrong—what profound sorrow had left her so utterly broken.
Elena was trembling from head to toe. Tears streamed relentlessly down her cheeks, soaking her clothes and catching in her throat. She could barely get the words out, choked by a knot of bitterness tightening around her throat. Between ragged sobs and cries of sheer despair, she managed to confess the tragedy consuming her: she had separated from her husband. The marriage had completely crumbled, trapping her in an abyss of loneliness. She was crying so hard and with such inconsolable grief that it was impossible for her to clearly explain what had happened; she was simply devastated, shattered beyond repair.
It was at that moment Clara realized they weren't alone. Standing right beside Elena were two people in complete silence. They didn't utter a word, but their mere presence filled the space with a thick, enigmatic air, like silent companions in the midst of desolation.
Deeply moved, Clara took in the scene. She looked her cousin in the eye and, with a touch of nostalgia and gentle reproach, called her out for never having trusted her enough to share her troubles, choosing instead to always put up walls. Yet, brushing the grievance aside, Clara pointed toward the two figures lingering at Elena's side and suggested that, even if she had never trusted her, she should at least place her faith and find peace in those two people standing with her.
Hearing this advice, Elena wept even harder, shaken to her very core, and gave a slow nod, confirming she would do just that. Feeling the urgency of the moment before the dream shattered, Clara urged her with both tenderness and resolve:
"Please, do it. Trust those two people. Please trust them."
Clara woke up gasping for air, the echo of the sobs still vibrating in her chest. In the dim shadows of her own bedroom in Cali, she was gripped by the chilling certainty that those tears hadn't been a trick of the mind, but a real cry for help that had crossed the mystery of the night.
