The sky was painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple as another day succumbed to the allure of night. Sofía stood at her window, a habitual spot to count the sunsets she had witnessed over the years. It had become a peculiar hobby of hers, one that brought her a strange sense of comfort and peace. She had lost count years ago, but it wasn't about the number; it was about the moment.

Since then, they would often exchange pleasantries. He'd borrow sugar; she'd lend books. Their interactions were brief but pleasant. Yet, Sofía couldn't help but feel there was more to Mateo than what met the eye. A depth she longed to explore.

"Counting sunsets, Sofía?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

She smiled, caught off guard. "Just enjoying the view."