Unstoppable Love

Chapter 7

The man had always been protective of Lily, even if their relationship had never been romantic. She was someone he cared for deeply, someone he had watched grow from a budding writer to a successful, accomplished woman. And now, seeing her unsettled by this boy—this "summer fling"—he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

It didn't take long for him to track down the boy's information. He was resourceful, had connections, and he was driven by the need to understand what had happened between them. He made a few calls, pulled a few strings, and soon enough, he had a location—a small recording studio in East London where the boy was working on a music project.

The man arrived at the studio late in the afternoon, the sun low in the sky, casting long shadows across the street. He hesitated for a moment outside the building, wondering if he was doing the right thing. But the image of  Lily's face as she held that card—the sadness she had tried to hide—pushed him forward.

Inside, the studio was a maze of corridors and soundproofed rooms, the air thick with the scent of coffee and old equipment. The receptionist directed him to a small studio in the back, and as he approached, he could hear the faint strains of music leaking through the door—raw, emotional, and hauntingly beautiful.

He knocked, and after a moment, the door opened to reveal the boy who had been at the door of the bookshop. He looked different from the last time the man had seen him—thinner, paler, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and too much time spent in his own head.

The boy blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting a visitor. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice wary.

The man stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I'm a friend of hers," he said simply, watching Santiago's reaction carefully.

The boy's eyes widened in recognition, and he took a step back, his guard up. "I sent the card... I didn't think she'd send someone after me."

"She didn't," the man replied, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "She doesn't even know I'm here. But I couldn't ignore what I saw. You mean something to her, and I don't think it's as simple as a 'summer fling.'"

Santi looked away, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had settled on them. "It's not simple," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's over. I'm nothing, and she deserves better."

The man frowned, stepping closer. "Is that what you really believe? That you're nothing?"

The boy nodded, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "She's accomplished, she's everything I'm not. And I don't want to drag her down with me."

"Then why send the card?" the man asked gently. "If you really believed it was over, why reach out at all?"

Santi was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "Because I can't forget her. But I don't know how to be anything other than what I am."

The man sighed, feeling a surge of empathy for the boy. He had seen that look before—the look of someone who was lost, who didn't believe they were worthy of love. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but I do know this: she's hurting too. And I think you both need to figure out what you really want before it's too late."

The boy looked up, his eyes searching the man's face for any hint of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, and it stirred something inside him—a flicker of hope that he had long thought extinguished.

"What do I do?" Santi asked, his voice trembling.

The man smiled faintly, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. "That's up to you. But if you care about her, really care, then maybe it's time to stop running."

As the man left the studio, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He had done what he could, but the rest was up to them. The boy and the woman had to decide for themselves whether to confront their pasts, their fears, and whether they could find their way back to each other.

Outside, the evening was settling in, the sky painted in shades of pink and orange. The man looked up, hoping that somewhere in the city, the two of them might find the strength to reach out to each other again.