The Silence Between Us Also Knew How to Love

The morning woke with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and damp earth. The birdsong—that kind you only hear far from the noise of the city—seemed like a luxury after so much bewilderment. Renata and I had barely spoken since what happened the night before, but we didn’t need to.

Daniela’s father, a man with a noble gaze and a deep voice, had warmly invited us to stay in the house.

—It’s late already, and here you have whatever you need —he said without preamble, with elegant but sincere courtesy.

It wasn’t a suggestion: it was the real thing, hospitality in its truest form. I didn’t find it hard to accept, perhaps out of respect, or perhaps because I knew I still wasn’t ready to return to my usual solitude.

Saturday dawned under a clear blue sky. My leave was still valid until Monday, so I wanted to make the most of it. Even so, as my body had taught me, I woke at five in the morning to go jogging along the nearby trails. Just a short run, because Renata had to take her mother back home. And, as expected, I offered to go with them.

After breakfast and thanking them for their hospitality, we left. No matter how much I begged Daniela to come, she refused.

—Enjoy every moment —she added, kissed her friend on the cheek, and with a huge smile said goodbye to the three of us.

***

The drive was calm. The road wound between green mountains, fields opening out like fans, and a breeze that brought the clean scent of the hills. From the passenger seat, Renata described every corner as if it were a postcard.

—Look over there. That ravine drops straight down to the river where we used to fish —she said at one point, with a smile that lit up her face.

I listened to her in silence, with an attentiveness that wasn’t usual for me. I wasn’t thinking about answering, only about recording every detail of her voice, about how speaking of her land made her even more herself. Between laughter and anecdotes, we kept on driving. The trip felt so natural it seemed familiar, so full of honesty it didn’t feel like the first time we’d gone through there. It felt like traveling with family, and that filled me with peace.

When we arrived, Renata’s mother insisted we come inside so she could prepare a simple but flavorful lunch. We ate on the corridor, with the distant murmur of the river slipping in among the conversations. The woman had that spontaneous sweetness of women who have raised children alone, who have fought with time and not stopped loving because of it.

Without wanting to admit it, I felt something tightening in my chest. A mixture of nostalgia and a soft envy, like a twinge that didn’t hurt but could be felt. I never knew that kind of steady tenderness, not even with Lorena.

We didn’t stay long. The place was beautiful, yes, but the calm had sharp edges: you could see it in the reinforced bars, in the watchful looks from certain corners, in the whispers about the gangs that controlled certain routes. When we left, part of me silently thanked the fact that Renata no longer lived there.

***

It was on the way back that silence stopped being just that and became a space of connection.

—Do you want me to put on music? —she asked softly.

I shook my head.

—This is fine. I like hearing the wind.

Renata smiled, glancing sideways as the sun touched my skin.

—Okay —she said—. But if you fall asleep, I’m going to be incredibly bored.

I let out a small laugh. It was impossible for me to fall asleep, especially since I was driving. But it was true: exhaustion often shows.

—I didn’t sleep well last night. And it wasn’t because of the bed —I admitted.

She looked at me.

—And why was that? Did something happen without me noticing?

—No, nothing like that. It’s just that… —I searched for the right words to say it.

—Was it because of what happened? —she added, with a certain nervousness in her voice, almost afraid of the answer. She fell silent for a few seconds, her heart pounding a mile a minute.

—Not exactly because of what happened. More because of what I felt. I’m not used to… that. To feeling so much without knowing why.

Renata lowered the window a little. The wind barely tousled our hair.

—You don’t have to understand everything —she said—. Or explain it. Just… live it. Let’s live it. And if you need me to stop, just tell me.

I turned my face. Looked at her in profile.

—You seem too patient.

—It’s not patience —she said, not taking her eyes off the road—. It’s that what I feel for you doesn’t make me rush. It gives me peace.

And that sentence, so simple, so clean, made me bite my lip. If I said anything, I would break. And maybe, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to. It was like a caress that undid me from the inside.

I looked toward the road, swallowing the knot forming in my throat. I felt free and, at the same time, so vulnerable that I didn’t know whether to cry or stop the car just to hug her.

Renata kept her eyes ahead, but her fingers toyed with the hem of her pants, as if her heart needed to vent through the smallest gestures.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. That phrase… it gives me peace… was still echoing in my chest. I said nothing. There was no need.

On a long, gentle curve, where the trees opened like a tunnel of light, I slowly stretched out my hand and laid it on hers, resting on her thigh.

It was a simple gesture. But in that silent caress we said many things. Yes, I’m here. Yes, I want to try. Yes… I want you.

Renata didn’t take her eyes off the road, but she smiled. She didn’t need answers in words. That warm, trembling hand intertwined with hers was enough.

And so we went on, together, crossing the mountain. Without promises, but with a connection neither of us could deny anymore. The car kept moving through curves and landscapes. We, meanwhile, had begun crossing a deeper border: the one where words become less necessary, because the soul starts speaking on its own.

***

The sun was beginning to set when the car left the mountains behind. I was driving in silence, my gaze steady ahead, but my heart still trembling from everything we’d lived through. Renata was beside me, with a serene expression, although our hands were still intertwined.

No need to talk.

After dropping off her mother, the atmosphere inside the car was different. Almost sacred. As if something had been sealed between us. As if the air were full of words not spoken, but understood.

When we arrived in the city, I turned toward my building. I didn’t say anything. I just parked, turned off the engine, and got out without looking at her too much, waiting for her to follow me. And she did.

The elevator climbed slowly. I dared to brush the back of her hand with the tips of my fingers. I didn’t take it. I only touched it, as someone who asks without words if they can stay a little longer. Renata didn’t pull away. She didn’t speak either. She let that gesture remain there, and a soft smile settled inside her, like a leaf on a still lake.

When we entered the apartment, it felt as if we were holding our breath. One of expectation, the other of curiosity. It wasn’t an empty place, but it did hold a thick silence. The trace of someone who has lived more among shadows than in company. Even so, there was warmth. An open book on the sofa. A blanket folded with almost military precision. And a lonely mug on the table.

Renata looked at me.

—Thanks for bringing me.

I didn’t answer with words. I just turned toward her, with a mix of uncertainty and resolve. I wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing, but it was what I had felt drawn to do. I needed a space alone with her. A safe place.

Renata, her heart beating far too hard, took a step. And then another. Until she was standing right in front of me.

—Can I stay… a little longer?

And I, without thinking, without running, took her hand. I didn’t need explanations. Or certainties. Just that gesture. She felt me tremble slightly, as if the contact were undoing me.

And that was when, without warning or hurry, she leaned in and kissed me. Small. Honest. One of those kisses that don’t seek promises, only permission.

—Let me be here —she whispered—. I don’t want you hiding from what you feel.

—I’m not hiding —I said, my voice trembling—. I just… I don’t know how to do this.

Renata rested her forehead against mine.

—Then we’ll learn together.

I closed my eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to be strong. Or invincible. Or perfect. Just… human. A tear fell, but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t sadness. It was relief. And when our lips met again, it was my way of saying yes. That she should stay. That she should give me time. That maybe love wasn’t a weakness, but another way of fighting.

The kiss, which had begun timidly, quickly got out of my hands in the space of two blinks. Renata opened her mouth against mine and her tongue sought mine with a hunger she hadn’t shown until then. I slid my hands to her waist and pulled her against my body, feeling her nipples harden under the thin fabric of her T-shirt, feeling her breath enter my throat like a barely contained gasp. There was no rush, but there was a decision that no longer allowed any turning back.

—Are you sure? —I whispered against her lips, barely biting her lower one.

—Shut up and take me to bed —she answered, and her fingers were already slipping under my T-shirt, seeking my tits without asking permission.

I pushed her slowly down the hallway, never stopping kissing her, stumbling against the edge of the sofa and my own knees. I pulled her shirt up until it caught at her shoulders; she broke away for a moment to take it off completely and stood in front of me without a bra, with hard pink nipples pointing at me like a provocation. My mouth went dry. I lowered my head and filled my lips with one breast, sucking it slowly, circling the nipple with my tongue until I felt her moan for the first time, a short, surprised moan that came from deep in her chest.

—Fuck… —she whispered, throwing her head back—. Suck me harder.

I did as she asked. I bit her nipple carefully, tugging it between my teeth, while with my other hand I kneaded her other breast, squeezing it whole, pinching the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Renata dug her nails into my nape and pulled me against her as if she wanted to push me entirely into her skin. Under my palm I felt her heart pounding, her breathing turning irregular, her starting to move against my thigh, looking for friction.

—To bed —I told her, my voice already hoarse—. Now.

We fell onto the mattress without turning on the light. The city filtered in through the window in a blue strip that painted Renata’s belly when I unbuttoned her pants. I pulled them down slowly, tugging the waistband along with her underwear, until she was completely naked, open before me like an offering that had long been waiting without even knowing it. Her pussy was nearly bare, shiny, and the wetness was already visible between her lips. I looked at her for a second without touching her, and she writhed under my gaze.

—Stop looking, do something to me… —she whispered, her voice sounding like a plea.

I yanked off my T-shirt and pants. When I climbed back on top of her, skin to skin now, both of us moaned at the same time. Her breasts flattened against mine, her hard nipples rubbing mine, and I felt her belly flutter inside, felt her already soaked cunt grinding against my thigh and leaving a hot, sticky mark on me.

I kissed her neck, her collarbone, the base of her breast, biting her just enough to leave a mark. I worked my way down her belly, across the fold of her navel, over the soft curve where the skin grows thinner. Her thighs tensed when she understood where my mouth was heading.

—Open up —I ordered, pushing her knees apart.

Renata obeyed. She spread her legs for me without shame, with that mix of determination and curiosity that was so hers. Her cunt was at my face, swollen, wet, with the clit peeking out between her pink lips like a ripe fruit. I leaned in slowly, breathing in her scent of an aroused woman, and gave her the first long lick, from bottom to top, tracing her whole slit with my flat tongue.

—Ah, fuck! —she shouted, arching her back. She buried her fingers in my hair and pulled me against her.

I ate her out slowly, without rushing. I licked her lips one by one, sucking them from the inside, sliding my tongue between them until I found her entrance. When I pushed the tip of my tongue into her cunt, a guttural moan slipped out of her that raised goosebumps on my skin. She tasted like warm sea, damp grass, like something I’d never tasted like this before. I ran my tongue over her clit, first gently, circling it, then firmer, sucking it whole, tugging at it with my lips. Renata began to tremble and move her hips against my mouth, fucking my face shamelessly.

—Like that… like that, don’t stop… fuck me, fuck me inside —she panted between ragged breaths.

I slipped in one finger first. It went in easily, slick, and her cunt closed hard around it, gripping me like a hot fist. I added another. I opened her slowly, feeling her widen, feeling the wetness dribble down my wrist. I started moving them in and out, curling them to find that rough spot on the roof of the vagina, while I kept sucking her clit without giving her a break. Renata writhed on the sheets, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, moaning louder and louder, not caring if the neighbors heard her.

—I’m coming… ah, I’m coming, don’t stop, suck it, suck it hard… —she blurted out through clenched teeth.

I buried my tongue in her clit and drove my fingers harder, fucking her with my hand to the rhythm of her hips. I felt her break. Her whole body tightened, her back arched, her inner walls clenched around my fingers like a mouth swallowing me, and she let out a hoarse cry from deep in her belly. She came in my mouth, soaking my chin, and I stayed there drinking her release, sucking her slowly while the last shudders ran through her legs.

When I lifted my head, my lips were shining with her. Renata looked at me from the pillow, still panting, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, and held out her arms to me.

—Come here —she murmured—. Now it’s your turn.

I climbed slowly up her body, dragging my tits across her skin, and she let me kiss her on the mouth, still smeared with her own release. She licked her lips without looking away, savoring herself, and flipped me over in bed with a strength I hadn’t expected. I ended up on my back, legs spread, and she settled between them.

—Let’s see if you’re so bossy now —she whispered.

She licked my neck, sucked each nipple one by one until they were hard and red, bit the skin of my belly. Then she spread my pussy with her fingers and plunged into eating me with a hunger that tore a gasp from the very bottom of me. Her tongue was firm, precise, obscene. She licked my clit with the tip and then took it fully into her mouth to suck me slowly, making a wet sound that drove me out of my mind. She slid two fingers into my cunt almost without preamble and started moving them fast, fucking me with her hand while she kept eating me out nonstop.

—Fuck, Renata, like that… —I moaned, grabbing her hair with both hands—. Suck me harder, eat me all up, don’t stop…

I lost myself. I don’t know how much time passed. I only know that her mouth never let me go, that her fingers opened me from the inside with a fencer’s precision, touching me in the exact spot again and again. I felt the orgasm climbing from the soles of my feet, up through my thighs, tightening my belly. When it exploded, I arched completely and screamed her name. I came over her tongue, wetting her face, and she kept licking me slowly, drawing out the final tremor, until I had to push her head away because I couldn’t take it anymore.

She climbed on top of me, smiling, her chin shining with my wetness, and kissed me. Her kiss tasted like both of us.

—We’re not done yet —she told me in my ear.

And we weren’t done. We tangled again, this time with our legs crossed in scissors, cunt to cunt, moving slowly to feel each other. Renata held on to my thigh, I held on to hers, and we searched for the exact angle where our clits brushed. Every thrust pulled a gasp from us. Wet cunts, sliding against each other, sounding off with how soaked we were. I looked into her eyes and she didn’t look away. She was biting her lip, rubbing against me with more urgency, and I did the same, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t scream.

—Come with me —I begged her, barely able to speak—. Come with me now.

We both sped up at once. The mattress creaked, the headboard hit the wall, and when the climax came, it came for us together: my cunt tightened in the very same second hers pressed against mine, and both of us moaned with our mouths open, staring at each other, not looking away, until we came apart on top of one another.

Renata let herself fall beside me, her chest rising and falling, her skin shining with sweat. I stayed looking at the ceiling, dazed, my cunt still throbbing and my mouth full of her taste.

—My God —she murmured, laughing faintly—. If I’d known forensic women fucked like this, I’d have gone into medicine.

I let out a short, hoarse laugh. I found her hand under the sheet and squeezed it.

A while later we got into the shower together. The hot water washed away the sweat, the sticky wetness on our thighs, the marks of our bites. Renata ran soapy hands down my back, kissed my shoulder, bit my earlobe, and slipped a finger in from behind just to make me laugh with a nervous half-laugh. We came out with wet hair and hungry—this time for food, or so we thought.

***

The apartment no longer felt so quiet. Renata walked barefoot across the polished floor, wearing one of my loose T-shirts that reached mid-thigh and pants fitted at the waist. Her hair was still damp from the shower and, even so, that light in her eyes… that mix of freedom and curiosity that made her seem even more alive. Under the T-shirt she wore nothing, and every time she turned I could see the outline of her nipples pressing against the fabric.

I, on the other hand, went back and forth through the kitchen as if I didn’t know where anything was, even though it was my own space. My hair was tied up in a hurry, I had on a sleeveless shirt and gray pants. Everything about me wanted to seem calm, but my body betrayed me: I kept dropping things, opening the fridge without knowing why, and every so often forgetting what I was saying. My cunt was still throbbing, her taste was still in my mouth, and I could feel the dampness in my panties that still hadn’t dried.

—Do you want me to chop the tomato, or… are you training to cut yourself alone? —she teased from the table.

I snorted, amused, when I saw the little cut on my finger, right after trying to fillet the chicken.

—I’m better at opening corpses than chickens —I said, wiping my finger with a napkin.

—Yeah, that’s crystal clear to me. You scare me more with a kitchen knife than with a scalpel.

—That’s because you haven’t seen me with one in my hand yet.

We both laughed.

Renata got up, came over with a first-aid kit she carried in her bag, and took my hand carefully. She put on a small bandage while glancing at me from the side. She came so close I could smell soap mixed with her own scent, and without meaning to my hand slid to her waist, squeezing it under the T-shirt.

—This is nothing —I said, almost automatically.

—I know —she answered softly—. But you still deserve someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a stupid little cut.

She leaned in and kissed me, a short kiss, her tongue tip barely brushing me. I answered and bit her a little, and she laughed against my mouth. My hand wandered farther beneath the shirt and found a bare breast; I pinched the nipple slowly and she closed her eyes for a second, breathing hard through her nose.

—Stop —she whispered, smiling—, or we’re going to burn the chicken.

—Let it burn.

—No, no. Later. —She gently moved my hand away, though her eyes were shining—. Later. Promised.

The silence returned, but it was that comfortable kind that doesn’t need filling. We looked at each other. I wanted to say something, but I preferred to lower my eyes and keep going with the chicken, this time paying more attention.

Renata, meanwhile, began making a salad and talking about her childhood in a light tone. I listened with half a smile. Between ingredients and memories, something more than dinner began to take shape: a space of trust.

—I always wanted to study psychology —she said at one point—. But fencing got me first. And you? Did you always know you’d be a forensic pathologist?

I hesitated. I kept cutting in silence.

—Not exactly. At first it was because of anger. Because of need. —I shrugged—. Then it became my way of not losing myself. Of not becoming something else.

Renata stopped. She set the knife aside and looked at me.

—And now? What would you like to be?

I stayed quiet for a moment. Then, בלי looking directly at her, I said:

—Maybe someone who doesn’t have to keep running.

And she understood. She didn’t ask anything else.

***

Dinner was ready and we ate together on the sofa, legs crossed and plates resting on a cushion between us. The television was on, but muted. Just a couple of dim lights lit the room.

At one point, Renata laughed at something I said and her head gently fell onto my shoulder. I tensed at first… but then I simply let her stay there.

—Can I stay like this for a while? —she asked, barely a whisper.

—As long as you want —I answered.

And that small moment, that simplicity, had another kind of intimacy, different from what we’d shared in bed a few hours before. There was no rush there, no gasps, no big words. Just two women learning to find each other, to respect each other’s rhythms, and to heal through the smallest gestures. I thought about how strange it all was… and how easy it felt at the same time.

For that night there were no ghosts. Just us. And that was enough.