Hello. And goodbye...
Just kidding.
Welcome to another chapter of this fic that is getting spicier every time. Little by little, so that my neighboring countries don't get upset.
The aroma of cumin and toasted chili filled Chilli's apartment before the sun even peeked over the horizon. Despite having slept little and poorly, her body moved with the automatic precision of someone used to finding refuge in the kitchen. If she couldn't resolve what she felt, at least she could drown her thoughts in the constant rhythm of chopping, mixing, and tasting.
She tied the apron around her waist and mentally reviewed her plan. That morning, she would cook red chilaquiles with shredded chicken, a simple yet comforting dish, ideal for a day after a night of partying.
In an iron skillet, she heated a bit of oil and began frying the tortillas cut into triangles. The sizzling was almost therapeutic, a sound that anchored her to the present. As the tortillas browned, she placed the guajillo chiles and tomatoes in a pot of hot water, letting them cook until the skin of the tomatoes began to wrinkle.
Time seemed to pass more slowly in the kitchen. Chilli lost herself in the repetition of the movements: taking the ingredients out of the water, blending the chiles with garlic, onion, and a bit of chicken broth, straining the mixture to obtain a smooth sauce. She added a pinch of salt and tasted it with the tip of the spoon.
Something was missing.
She opened the spice drawer and took a pinch of dried oregano, crumbling it between her fingers before letting it fall into the sauce. She mixed it with slow movements, as if each stir of the spoon could give clarity to her mind.
Last night, when Frisky had taken Bosco's hand without hesitation, something inside Chilli had sunk. It had been irrational, she knew. But the emptiness in her chest didn't disappear just because she understood that Frisky had the right to have fun with whoever she wanted.
Chilli sighed and poured the sauce over the browned tortillas, listening to the sizzle as the ingredients came together. The aroma of chili and tomato filled the kitchen, making her feel a little more in control. She added the shredded chicken on top and sprinkled fresh cheese, finishing the dish with a touch of cream and thin slices of red onion.
She served herself a plate and took it to the table, but instead of starting to eat, she kept staring at the steam rising from the chilaquiles.
What the hell was happening to her?
She sighed and took a bite. The flavor was perfect: spicy, creamy, with the crunch of the tortillas balanced by the softness of the chicken. But despite how good it tasted, she couldn't fully enjoy it.
Because with every bite, with every sip of water to soothe the spiciness of the chili... Chilli felt she didn't have to think about it anymore. The pain in her throat distracted her.
Chilli drummed her fingers against the table while looking at her home phone. Her breakfast was still there, half-eaten, but she no longer had an appetite.
Since she had woken up, she had felt the need to talk to Frisky. She didn't know what she was going to say, not even if she had a clear reason to call her, but something inside her was pushing her to do so. Maybe she wanted to hear her voice.
She dialed her number and waited.
One… two… three rings.
Nothing.
She frowned and tried again. This time, the call went straight to voicemail.
That was odd. Frisky usually answered quickly, and if she couldn't talk, at least she sent a message saying she would call back later.
Chilli bit her lip. Maybe she was still asleep. Perhaps she had spent the night with Bosco, and that's why her phone was unanswered.
The thought twisted her stomach.
She left the plate in the sink without looking at it and went to her room to change. She couldn't just sit and wait.
"Don't be ridiculous," she murmured to herself as she put on some jeans and a loose top. "It's not like she owes you any explanations."
But despite her attempt to rationalize it, she couldn't ignore the discomfort in her chest.
She grabbed her bag and left the apartment.
Frisky's building wasn't far. Sometimes, when they were too lazy to go out, they simply walked from one house to the other in their pajamas and spent the afternoon watching bad movies and eating snacks.
Chilli rang the doorbell and waited.
Nothing.
She rang again.
Silence.
Frisky's apartment was on the second floor, and from the street, Chilli could see that the lights were off and the curtains closed. She felt stupid for expecting anything else. Frisky clearly wasn't there.
She sighed and pulled out her phone again, sending a short message: "Hey, are you still alive? I called you a while ago. Let me know when you can."
She lingered a moment longer at the door, hoping Frisky would appear out of nowhere. But the city moved on without interruption, oblivious to her anxiety.
Eventually, she went home with a sense of emptiness in her chest.
A day passed. Then another.
And Frisky didn't call.
Chilli tried to convince herself it wasn't a big deal. They both had busy lives. Sometimes they went days without seeing each other. But they always talked, even if it was with short messages. Plus, they had made many plans for the holidays, only for the first week to result in fulfilling just one of them.
But this time, the silence stretched.
When she finally received a response, it was brief and without explanation.
Frisky: "All good, just been busy. See you soon."
Something in that message made Chilli tense up. It wasn't just the coldness of the words. It was the "see you soon." There was no "how are you?", no "I miss you, you idiot," or anything that sounded like the Frisky she knew.
Something was wrong.
A week later, the response came without her having to ask.
It was at the market while she was buying avocados.
She was picking the ripest ones when, among the crowd, she saw a familiar silhouette. Frisky.
For a second, she felt relieved. She was going to call her, asking where the hell she had been.
But then she saw Bosco.
They were together. Too together.
She watched them silently. Bosco had his arm around Frisky's waist, and she not only allowed it but leaned into him naturally.
Chilli felt something inside her curl up.
She hadn't realized she was crushing the avocado until she felt the skin give way under her fingers. She immediately dropped it back onto the pile as if it burned.
Frisky and Bosco continued walking, oblivious to her presence. Chilli should have looked away, pretended she hadn't seen them. But she couldn't.
She watched as Bosco whispered something to her, and Frisky laughed. She laughed like when they were together, like when they shared a private joke out of nowhere.
Only now, it wasn't with her.
The air in the market suddenly felt denser, heavier. An annoying beeping settled in her ears, and for a moment, the noise of the people around turned into a distant roar.
It's not what it looks like, she told herself. It doesn't have to mean anything.
But Bosco's arm stayed there, firm around Frisky's waist. And Frisky not only allowed it but leaned toward him, as if she belonged there.
Chilli blinked and felt a pang in her stomach.
Was she with him?
She felt something like an emptiness in her chest, a cold and bothersome hole that she didn't know how to fill.
She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to see more.
She grabbed the bag with the few ingredients she had bought and walked away from the stall. She wandered aimlessly through the aisles of the market, not really registering what she was seeing. Her mind remained trapped in the image of the two of them together.
"Why does it bother me so much?"
It was a question she didn't want to answer.
But the feeling in her chest didn't lie.