The Sierra Nevada mountains are dark silhouettes against the fading light, watching over the city like sleeping giants.
The air is cool and crisp, carrying the scent of olive trees and dust.
I’m standing in the clubhouse, watching the last rays of sunlight stream through the windows.
The room is buzzing with activity.
Members are filing in, taking their seats, shuffling papers and lighting cigarettes.
The monthly executive meeting is about to start.
But I can’t focus.
My mind is elsewhere.
It’s been elsewhere for weeks now.
Ever since the accident.
Ever since Aitana’s father screamed at her in front of everyone.
Ever since I watched her run out of the clubhouse with tears streaming down her face and did nothing to stop her.
I look at the empty chair beside me.
Her chair.
The one she always sits in.
She’s not here.
She’s never here anymore.
I remember how it used to be.
She’d walk into these meetings with her head held high, her dark curls bouncing, her blue eyes blazing with determination.
She’d take her seat beside me, and within five minutes, we’d be arguing about something.
“The club needs more resources for the garage,” she’d say, her voice sharp and demanding.
“The club needs better security,” I’d counter, rolling my eyes.
“Security is useless if we don’t have functioning bikes.” “Bikes are useless if we’re all dead.” Around and around we’d go, fighting and bickering until the meeting was adjourned.
Everyone would watch us like we were a tennis match, their heads swiveling back and forth.
I used to hate it.
I used to think she was so annoying, so stubborn, so impossible to reason with.
But now I realize I loved it.
I craved it.
It was the only time she looked at me like I mattered.
Now she doesn’t look at me at all.
“The meeting will come to order,” I say, my voice flat and hollow.
I take my seat at the head of the table.
The members fall silent, their eyes fixed on me.
I should be focused.
I should be leading.
This is my responsibility.
This is what my father trained me for.
But all I can think about is her.
“We have several items to discuss tonight,” I continue, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“First, the garage repairs.
Second, the upcoming race in the Alpujarra.
And third, the issue of security along the eastern border.” The meeting drones on.
Members speak.
Proposals are made.
Decisions are reached.
I nod.
I agree.
I pretend to care.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
My mind keeps drifting back to her.
I think about the accident.
The way Elena crashed.
The way Aitana screamed for help.
The way her father yelled at her like she was a criminal.
The way she looked at me, begging me to defend her.
And the way I stayed silent.
I was frozen.
Paralyzed.
My father’s voice echoed in my head: “Weakness is a disease, Leo.
Don’t show emotion.
That’s how they get you.” So I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
I just stood there like a coward, watching the girl I love break into pieces.
I should have defended her, I think, my fists clenching under the table.
I should have told Rafael it wasn’t her fault.
I should have told him that Elena begged to switch bikes, that Aitana was just trying to be kind.
But I didn’t.
I stayed silent.
And now she’s pulling away from everyone.
She’s been so distant lately.
So withdrawn.
She used to be fire and energy and life.
Now she’s quiet and hollow, like a ghost haunting the hallways.
I watch her sometimes.
From across the room.
From behind the garage door.
She doesn’t see me.
She doesn’t see anyone.
She’s retreating into herself, building walls so high that even I can’t climb them.
And I don’t know how to reach her.
“Leo?
Leo!” I blink, pulled back to the present.
Diego is staring at me, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.” I clear my throat.
“I’m fine.
What were you saying?” “I was saying that we need to vote on the budget for the garage.
Are you in favor or opposed?” I look at the papers in front of me.
Numbers and figures blur together.
I don’t care about any of it.
“In favor,” I say.
“Now let’s move on.” Diego raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
He just nods and continues with the agenda.
The meeting drags on for another hour.
I sign papers.
I make decisions.
I pretend to be the leader everyone expects me to be.
But inside, I’m falling apart.
I can’t keep doing this, I think.
I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when she’s drowning.
When the meeting finally ends, I’m the first to leave.
I push my chair back and walk toward the door, my boots heavy on the wooden floor.
“Leo, wait,” Carmen calls out.
“We need to talk about—” “Later,” I say, not turning around.
I push open the door and step outside.
The cool night air hits my face, and I take a deep breath.
The sky is dark now, dotted with stars.
The moon is a silver crescent hanging over the Sierra Nevada.
I stand there for a moment, letting the silence wash over me.
I think about Aitana.
About the way she used to smile.
The way she used to laugh.
The way she used to fight with me like her life depended on it.
She was never afraid to challenge me.
She was never afraid to stand up for herself.
But now she’s afraid of everything.
I think about the night she left.
The night she rode out of Granada with nothing but her mother’s wrench and her broken heart.
I should have stopped her.
I should have chased after her and begged her to stay.
But I didn’t.
I just stood there, frozen, watching her disappear into the darkness.
I won’t make that mistake again, I tell myself.
I won’t let her slip away.
I walk to my bike and swing my leg over it.
The engine roars to life, vibrating beneath me like a heartbeat.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I just need to ride.
I need to clear my head.
I need to figure out how to reach her.
The streets of Granada blur past me.
The Albaicín.
The Sacromonte.
The winding roads that lead up into the mountains.
I ride until I reach the Mirador de San Nicolás, the viewpoint overlooking the Alhambra.
I park my bike and stare out at the ancient palace, its walls glowing in the moonlight.
I think about Aitana.
About the way she used to come here with her mother.
About the way she’d stare at the Alhambra like it held all the secrets of the world.
I think about her mother’s words: “Feel that?
That’s freedom.
Never let anyone take it from you.” She lost that freedom.
She lost herself.
And I don’t know how to give it back to her.
I close my eyes and let the silence surround me.
I will find a way, I promise myself.
I will find a way to reach her.
I will find a way to bring her back.
I will not let her drown alone.
I open my eyes and stare at the Alhambra.
The moonlight casts long shadows across the ancient walls.
I think about Aitana.
About the fire in her eyes.
About the way she used to challenge me.
About the way she made me feel alive.
I’m going to save you, Aitana, I think.
I’m going to save you, even if it kills me.
Because losing you would be worse than death.
I start my bike and ride back down the mountain.
The wind whips against my face, cold and unforgiving.
But inside, I feel something stir.
Something I haven’t felt in weeks.
Hope.
I will find a way, I think as I ride into the night.
I will find a way to bring her back.
I will not be frozen anymore.