The Silence Between Us Also Knew How to Love

Morning awoke smelling of freshly brewed coffee and damp earth. The birdsong—that which can only be heard far from the noise of the city—seemed like a luxury after so much confusion. Renata and I had barely spoken since what happened the night before, but we didn’t need to.

Daniela’s father, a noble-looking man with a deep voice, had warmly invited us to stay at the house.

—It’s late, and you have everything you might need here —he said plainly, with an elegance that was both courteous and sincere.

It wasn’t a suggestion: it was genuine hospitality. I didn’t have trouble accepting, perhaps out of respect, or perhaps because I knew I still wasn’t ready to return to my usual solitude.

Saturday dawned beneath 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. Something short, 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 all three of us.

***

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

—Look over there. That ravine runs 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 attention that wasn’t usual for me. I wasn’t thinking about answering, only about recording every detail of her voice, the way she became even more herself when she talked about her homeland. We continued on our way amid laughter and anecdotes. The trip felt so natural that it seemed familiar, so full of honesty that it didn’t feel like my first time there. It felt like traveling with family, and that filled me with peace.

When we arrived, Renata’s mother forced us inside to prepare a simple lunch, but one full of flavor. We ate in the hallway, the distant murmur of the river slipping between our conversations. The woman had that spontaneous sweetness of those who have raised children alone, who have fought against time and haven’t stopped loving because of it.

Without wanting to admit it, I felt something tightening in my chest. A mixture of nostalgia and a gentle envy, like a pang that didn’t hurt but made itself known. I had never known that kind of constant 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 controlling certain routes. When we left, part of me silently gave thanks that Renata no longer lived there.

***

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

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

I shook my head.

—It’s fine like this. I like listening to the wind.

Renata smiled, glancing sideways at the way 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: tiredness often showed.

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

She looked at me.

—Why’s that? Did something happen without my 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, a certain nervousness in her voice, almost afraid of the answer. She fell silent for a few seconds, her heart beating 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 pull over, tell me.

I turned my face. I looked at her in profile.

—You seem awfully patient.

—It isn’t patience —she said, without taking her eyes off the road—. It’s just that what I feel for you doesn’t make me hurry. It gives me peace.

And that sentence, so simple, so clear, made me bite my lip. If I said anything, I was going to break down. And maybe, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to. It was like a caress that disarmed me from within.

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 hold her.

Renata kept her eyes ahead, but her fingers played with the hem of her pants, as though her heart needed to release itself through the smallest gestures.

I watched her from the corner of my eye. That phrase… it gives me peace… still echoed 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 over hers, resting on her thigh.

It was a simple gesture. But in that silent caress, we told each other so 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 continued, together, crossing the mountains. Without promises, but with a connection neither of us could deny anymore. The car continued along its course amid curves and landscapes. Meanwhile, we had begun crossing a deeper border: the one where words become less necessary, because the soul begins to speak for itself.

***

The sun was beginning to set when the car left the mountains behind. I drove in silence, my gaze fixed firmly ahead, but my heart still trembling from everything we had lived through. Renata sat beside me, serene, though our hands remained intertwined.

There was no need to speak.

After dropping off her mother, the atmosphere inside the car was different. Almost sacred. As though something had been sealed between us. As though the air were full of unspoken but understood words.

When we reached the city, I turned toward my building. I said nothing. I simply parked, switched off the engine, and got out without looking at her too much, hoping she would follow. And she did.

The elevator climbed slowly. I dared to brush the back of her hand with my fingertips. I didn’t take it. I only touched it, like someone asking without words whether she could stay a little longer. Renata didn’t pull away. She didn’t speak either. She let the gesture remain there, and a soft smile settled inside her, like a leaf on a still lake.

When we entered the apartment, we seemed to be holding our breath. One of us from anticipation, the other from curiosity. It wasn’t an empty place, but it did hold a certain dense silence. The trace of someone who had 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 solitary cup on the table.

Renata looked at me.

—Thank you for bringing me.

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

Renata, her heart beating too hard, took one step. Then another. Until she stood directly in front of me.

—Can I stay… a little longer?

And I, without thinking, without running away, took her hand. I didn’t need explanations. Or certainty. Only that gesture. She felt me tremble slightly, as though the contact were disarming me.

And that was when, without warning or haste, she leaned in and kissed me. Small. Honest. The kind of kiss that doesn’t seek promises, only permission.

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

—I’m not hiding —I said, my voice trembling—. I just… 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 while, I didn’t feel 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, got away from me 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 that moment. I ran my hands along her waist and pulled her against my body, feeling her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt, feeling her breathing enter my throat like a barely contained moan. There was no hurry, but there was a resolve that no longer allowed turning back.

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

—Shut up and take me to bed —she replied, her fingers already slipping beneath my shirt, searching for my tits without asking permission.

I pushed her slowly toward the hallway without stopping the kiss, stumbling against the edge of the sofa and my own knees. I lifted her shirt until it caught on her shoulders; she pulled away for a moment to take it off completely and stood before me without a bra, her hard, pink nipples pointing at me like a provocation. My mouth went dry. I lowered my head and filled my lips with one of her tits, sucking it slowly, circling the nipple with my tongue until I felt her moan for the first time—a short, surprised moan that rose from deep in her chest.

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

I obeyed. I bit her nipple gently, tugging it between my teeth, while my other hand kneaded her other tit, squeezing the whole thing and pinching the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Renata dug her nails into the back of my neck and pressed me against her as if she wanted to push my entire body inside her skin. Beneath my palm, I felt her heart pounding, her breathing becoming irregular, her body beginning to move against my thigh, seeking friction.

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

We fell onto the mattress without turning on the light. The city filtered through the window in a blue strip that painted Renata’s belly when I undid her pants. I pulled them down slowly, taking her underwear with them, until I left her completely naked, open before me like an offering that had been waiting a long time without knowing it. Her pussy was almost hairless, glistening, and the wetness was already visible between her lips. I gazed at her for a second without touching her, and she writhed beneath my stare.

—Don’t just look, do something to me… —she whispered, her voice sounding like a plea.

I yanked off my shirt and pants. When I climbed back on top of her, skin against skin, we both moaned at the same time. Her tits flattened against mine, her hard nipples rubbing against mine, and I felt her belly quivering inside, her already-soaked pussy rubbing against my thigh and leaving a hot, sticky mark.

I kissed her neck, her collarbone, the place where her breast began, biting her lightly to leave a mark. I moved down her belly, along the fold of her navel, over the soft curve where the skin grows thinner. Her thighs tensed when she realized where my mouth was going.

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

Renata obeyed. She spread her legs for me without shame, with that particular mix of determination and curiosity. Her pussy was level with my face, swollen and wet, her clitoris peeking out between her pink lips like ripe fruit. I approached slowly, breathing in the scent of an aroused woman, and gave her the first long lick, from bottom to top, running my flat tongue along her entire slit.

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

I ate her slowly, without hurry. I licked her lips one by one, sucking them from the inside, sinking my tongue between them until I found her entrance. When I pushed the tip of my tongue inside her pussy, a guttural moan escaped her and raised goosebumps on my skin. She tasted of warm sea, wet grass, something I had never tasted like this before. I ran my tongue over her clitoris, softly at first, circling it, then more firmly, sucking the whole thing, tugging it with my lips. Renata began to tremble and move her hips against my mouth, fucking my face without shame.

—Like that… like that, don’t stop… put it in me, put it inside me —she panted between broken breaths.

I inserted one finger first. It slid in easily, slick, and her pussy clamped down around it, squeezing me like a hot fist. I inserted another. I opened her slowly, feeling her widen, feeling her wetness trickle down my wrist. I began moving them in and out, curling them to search for that rough spot on the roof of her vagina, while I kept sucking her clitoris without giving her a break. Renata writhed on the sheets, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, moaning louder and louder without caring if the neighbors heard her.

—I’m coming… oh, I’m coming, don’t stop, suck it, suck it hard… —she gasped through her teeth.

I pressed my tongue against her clitoris and thrust my fingers harder, fucking her with my hand in time with her hips. I felt her break apart. Her whole body tensed, her back arched, her inner walls tightened around my fingers like a mouth swallowing me, and she released a hoarse cry from deep in her belly. She came in my mouth, soaking my chin, and I stayed there drinking her orgasm, sucking her slowly while the final tremors 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 dilated, and held out her arms.

—Come here —she murmured—. Your turn.

I climbed slowly up her body, dragging my tits over her skin, and she let me kiss her on the mouth still smeared with her orgasm. She licked her lips without taking her eyes off me, tasting herself, and turned me over on the bed with a strength I hadn’t known she possessed. I ended up on my back, legs open, and she settled between them.

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

She licked my neck, sucked my nipples one by one until they were hard and red, and bit the skin of my belly. Then she opened my pussy with her fingers and set about eating it with a hunger that tore a moan from deep inside me. Her tongue was firm, precise, obscene. She licked my clitoris with the tip, then took the whole thing into her mouth and sucked it slowly, making a wet sound that drove me out of my mind. She pushed two fingers into my pussy almost without preamble and began moving them quickly, fucking me with her hand while she sucked me without stopping.

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

I lost myself. I don’t know how much time passed. I only know her mouth didn’t let go of me, that her fingers opened me from within with a fencer’s precision, touching the exact spot again and again. I felt the orgasm climbing from the soles of my feet, rising through my thighs, tightening my belly. When it exploded, I arched my whole body and screamed her name. I came on her tongue, wetting her face, and she kept licking me slowly, drawing out the last tremor, until I had to push her head away because I couldn’t take any more.

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

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

And we weren’t finished. We tangled together again, this time with our legs crossed in scissors, pussy against pussy, moving slowly to feel each other. Renata held on to my thigh, I held on to hers, and we searched for the exact angle at which our clitorises rubbed together. Every thrust drew a moan from us. Our soaked pussies slid against each other, making wet sounds because they were so drenched. I looked into her eyes and she didn’t look away. She bit her lip, rubbed against me with greater urgency, and I did the same, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t scream.

—Come with me —I begged, almost voiceless—. Come with me now.

We both quickened our pace at once. The mattress creaked, the headboard pounded against the wall, and when climax came, we had it together: my pussy contracted at the exact second hers pressed against mine, and we both moaned with our mouths open, looking at each other without breaking eye contact until we came undone over one another.

Renata collapsed beside me, chest rising and falling, skin gleaming with sweat. I remained staring at the ceiling, dazed, my pussy still throbbing and my mouth full of her taste.

—My God —she murmured, barely laughing—. If I’d known coroners fucked like that, I would have gone into medicine.

I let out a short, hoarse laugh. I searched for her hand beneath the sheet and squeezed it.

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

***

The apartment no longer seemed so silent. Renata walked barefoot across the polished floor, wearing one of my loose T-shirts that reached halfway down her thighs and pants fitted at the waist. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and even so, there was that light in her eyes… that mixture of freedom and curiosity that made her look even more alive. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the shirt, and every time she turned around I could see the shadows of her nipples showing through the fabric.

I, on the other hand, paced around the kitchen as though I didn’t know where anything was, even though it was my own space. My hair was hastily tied back, and I wore a sleeveless shirt and gray pants. Everything in me wanted to seem calm, but my body betrayed me: things kept slipping from my hands, I opened the refrigerator without knowing why, and at times I forgot what I was saying. My pussy was still throbbing, her taste still lingered in my mouth, and I could feel the dampness in my panties that refused to dry.

—Do you want me to chop the tomato, or… are you practicing cutting yourself? —she joked from the table.

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

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

—Yes, that’s perfectly clear. 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 stood, came over with a first-aid kit she carried in her bag, and took my hand carefully. She put a small bandage on me while glancing at me from the corner of her eye. She came so close that I could smell soap mixed with her own scent, and without meaning to, my hand went to her waist, squeezing it beneath the shirt.

—It’s nothing —I said, almost automatically.

—I know —she replied softly—. But you still deserve to have someone take care of you, even if it’s only for a silly little wound.

She leaned in and kissed me, a short kiss, the tip of her tongue barely brushing mine. I kissed her back and nipped at her a little, and she laughed against my mouth. My hand slipped farther beneath her shirt, and I found a naked tit; I slowly pinched her nipple, 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. Promise.

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

Meanwhile, Renata began preparing 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 captured me first. What about you? Did you always know you’d become a forensic examiner?

I hesitated. I cut in silence.

—Not exactly. At first it was out of anger. Out of necessity. —I shrugged—. Then it became my way of not losing myself. Of not turning into something else.

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

—And now? What would you like to be?

I fell silent for a moment. Then, without looking directly at her, I said:

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

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

***

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

—As long as you want —I replied.

And that small moment, that simplicity, held another kind of intimacy, different from the one we had shared in bed a few hours earlier. There was no hurry there, no moans, no grand words. Only 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 everything was… and how easy it felt at the same time.

That night there were no ghosts. Only us. And that was enough.