4
Fina kicked off her shoes the moment she walked through the door, sighing as the tension of the night melted away. Carmen and Claudia had tried to convince her to go out for drinks after the show, but she had declined, claiming exhaustion from the run of performances. They only half believed her.
"You just don’t want to admit you’re hoping to run into your mystery goddess again," Claudia had teased, smirking over the rim of her beer bottle.
Carmen had laughed, nudging Fina’s shoulder. "Or maybe she’ll spend another night scrolling through videos and photos of the show, hoping someone tagged her."
Fina had rolled her eyes, brushing them off. But the truth was, they weren’t wrong. The moment the set had ended that night, she had rushed into the viewing area, hoping for a chance to introduce herself. But the woman and her friends had already disappeared. She had asked around, but no one seemed to recognize her.
Since then, Fina had been resigned to seeing her only in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she had stood out, tall, elegant and composed, yet visibly affected by the music. Those eyes had held her captive, a feeling so profound that it had reshaped Fina’s very understanding of connection, making every past attraction seem trivial in comparison.
All she needed was a name, the internet would take care of the rest. But so far, "beautiful, tall goddess with a jawline that could cut glass" had yielded no useful results. At least, not ones that were suitable for work.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment, imagining what she would say if she ever got the chance. Then, after indulging herself for a few moments too long, she let out a frustrated sigh and laughed at herself. "Get a grip, Fina."
Just as she was finally drifting off, her phone buzzed from inside her jeans, still on the floor where she had peeled them off. With a groan, she leaned over, grabbing the phone and squinting at the bright screen. A new notification.
She nearly ignored it, assuming it was just someone tagging her in another post from tonight’s show. But curiosity flared, and she opened the app.
Marta_DLR liked your post.
Nothing out of the ordinary, except for which post it was.
Fina frowned, then clicked on it. It was from last Thanksgiving, a throwback picture of her at a rented country house with friends, wearing a red plaid shirt and an embroidered apron, laughing at something out of frame. It was an old post. Which meant whoever had liked it had scrolled. Had searched. Surely not, it couldn’t be.
Her pulse quickened as she clicked on the username. The profile opened.
There, in the circle-shaped profile picture, was her.
Fina almost dropped the phone onto her face before scrambling to sit up. The image was black and white, an elegant woman sitting next to a fountain, poised yet relaxed. There was no mistaking it. The arms, the hands, the jawline. Those eyes.
The world seemed to still.
After all her searching, she finally had an answer. A name. Five letters. Two syllables.
To test how it felt, Fina whispered it into the darkness around her.
"Marta."