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I’M NOT REALLY ALONE / REALMENTE NO ESTOY TAN SOLO
Rafael was returning to New York after a year after Forlini's after Wheatley. His visits had become more sporadic, and now that his mother was moving permanently to Florida and he to Washington, he saw no reason to keep his Upper West Side apartment.
The move had begun. There wasn’t much to pack. Lucía had offered to do it, but he turned her down without hesitation.
He walked through each space. In the kitchen, inside the cabinet, was the green mug she always used.
He picked it up, poured coffee into it, letting it fill every inch, and added a spoonful of sugar.
Just the way she liked it. When he took a sip, for a moment, the coffee felt like one of those kisses they used to share in the mornings.
He could see her silhouette in the kitchen, sitting nearby while he cooked.
She was still there…
In the bathroom, Olivia’s toothbrush was still there.
He held it in his hands and smiled for a brief moment before tossing it away along with his own.
He wasn’t really alone she was there, in every memory, in every space.
When he reached his bedroom, he took out a suitcase and began packing his perfectly pressed white and blue Armani shirts.
As he opened another drawer, he found a green silk blouse and a scarf she had forgotten that night she arrived quietly to argue over a case that turned into a clash of arguments. It still smelled like her subtle and elegant.
He breathed it in for a moment.
—Should he take those things with him?
—Was he ready to be alone?
_______
Olivia had found out, almost by accident, that Rafael Barba was back.
In a session with Dr. Lindstrom, they had talked about closure.
—Did she really want to close that chapter?
It seemed like the perfect opportunity to face it.
—Would he be there?
In her apartment, she found a navy-blue umbrella. It was his.
An excuse to say goodbye… or maybe something more.
____
That same afternoon, she took a taxi. The address came to her easily one she had gone to many times before.
At first for something professional, then to talk with a good friend… and then something more.
Olivia arrived at the building and stepped into the elevator. Her finger trembled slightly as she pressed the floor number.
“No… no.”
The chime sounded and the doors closed.
When she stepped out, she took a deep breath and walked down the familiar hallway where they had talked so many times.
With each step, her breathing steadied it was like reclaiming a part of herself.
Calm. Balance.
The Olivia she used to be.
She reached the door and closed her eyes, promising herself she would only knock twice no more.
_____
In Rafael’s apartment, the doorbell rang twice. He checked his watch. The real estate agent wasn’t due for another two hours.
Outside, Olivia stood with her gaze lowered, her eyes fixed on the umbrella.
She took a step back and closed her eyes for a moment just before hearing the door open.
Rafael turned the handle, and there she was. Olivia Benson.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Her hair was slightly longer, her brown eyes tinged with melancholy.
He still had his beard, his expression marked by quiet exhaustion.
“Olivia…”
“Rafael…”
“Do you want to come in?” he asked politely.
Olivia didn’t answer but her body did. Before she realized it, she was already inside.
Everything looked empty. Her eyes quickly moved across every corner.
She recognized the mug she always used when she visited him.
The apartment felt silent.
“Are you alone?”
“That depends on what you consider company.”
She glanced around and sat on the couch, still covered with a sheet.
Rafael moved quickly, pouring two glasses of whiskey.
“The memory was always with me.” His voice was steady, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Rafa…” Her voice broke, her body tensing.
The umbrella slipped from Olivia’s hands.
“What are you doing here, Olivia?”
“I…”
Her mind went blank no answers, or maybe they had always been there.
Olivia looked at him in silence, not as a colleague, not as a friend, not as a memory but as the one thing she had been avoiding for far too long, and wanting just as much.
Rafael didn’t move. He just held her gaze.
“Rafa, why…?” Her voice was soft. Not quite a plea, not quite an accusation.
Her eyes said everything.
“Are you going to listen to me this time?” Rafael said.
“I…”
Neither of them knew who moved first, but the distance between them quickly disappeared almost nonexistent.
They reached for each other’s hands, as if their bodies had finally spoken what words had failed to hold for so long.
Their hands fit perfectly.
Rafael brushed a strand of hair away from Olivia’s face, damp from her tears.
Olivia traced Rafael’s face gently with her fingers.
The kiss wasn’t a surprise. Their lips knew where they belonged to the place they had missed, warm and familiar.
When they pulled apart, there was no rush. Their hands remained intertwined.
That afternoon, they defied the melancholy. They had never forgotten.
There had been distance, yes but the memory had always been there.
And now, so was the present.
The apartment was still almost empty but it no longer felt that way.