"You can't live your life waiting for the perfect moment.
Life is what happens while you're waiting for that to happen."
— John Lennon
The gym was buzzing.
The stands were shaking, the drums were booming, and the lights seemed to revolve solely around Dylan.
He jumped, he scored, he smiled… the crowd roared.
It was quite a show.
But amid all the noise, his eyes were searching for something.
Or someone.
Ailín.
And when he didn't find her, a faint shadow crossed his face.
…
At the other end, Vivian posed for the cameras with her rehearsed smile. Every sparkle on her uniform seemed to shout "look at me," but inside, something was falling apart.
She saw Dylan scanning the stands — anxious, searching for someone else.
Not her.
"He's probably looking for his parents," said one teammate.
"Or that weird girl from the volleyball team," laughed another.
Vivian let out a fake laugh.
But inside, something cracked.
Her smile had always been her armor. Her beauty, her refuge.
And for the first time, it wasn't enough.
The fear of being invisible tightened her chest
…
The next day, it was Ailín's turn.
The gym was full, and the air smelled of nerves and sports deodorant.
From the stands, Dylan watched her with a focus that felt almost exclusive.
Ailín prepared to serve.
And just when she thought she was calmest—
"Oops!" Oscurita blurted out, appearing without warning. "That pass was so disastrous it could be studied as a historical error."
"Don't start," Ailín thought, clenching her teeth.
"Me? I'm just reporting. Emotional public service."
The score was tied.
The murmur in the stands grew.
"There you go," continued the shadow, crossing her arms. "You always fail when it matters most. It's like your hidden talent."
"Shut up."
"If every time you told me that you got an extra point, you'd have already won the match."
Ailín took a deep breath.
And then, on the next serve, she jumped.
She hit the ball with all her might.
The point was hers.
The match, too.
The gym erupted.
Applause. Laughter. Hugs.
From the stands, Dylan looked at her as if the rest of the world had vanished.
"See?" said Oscurita, half-smiling. "Now he looks at you like you're the trailer for his favorite movie. But don't get confused, honey. Today they applaud, tomorrow they forget."
"Why do you have to ruin everything?"
"I'm not ruining it, I'm just adding realism. I'm your anti-expectation filter."
Ailín rolled her eyes.
But even she couldn't help but smile a little.
…
That night, in her room, she opened her notebook and wrote:
"I failed. I won in the end, but I still failed. I don't know if I'm good enough."
"Wow," said Oscurita, reading over her shoulder. "Not even the tragic poets of the 19th century dared to be so dramatic."
"It's my way of processing things."
"Oh, sure. I process by eating ice cream, you process by writing tragedies. To each their own method."
Ailín sighed.
"I just want to rest."
"Perfect. Rest in me," said Oscurita in a commercial tone. "24/7 self-criticism service — no peace of mind guaranteed."
A knock on the door interrupted her internal conversation.
It was Andrea.
"Can I come in?"
"Yes, of course."
Andrea sat next to her, with that calmness of hers that always disarmed everything.
"I know you're still thinking about the mistake. But you made it to the final, Ailín. You're incredible, even if you don't believe it."
Ailín looked down.
"Sometimes I feel like I don't fit in. That I should be stronger, brighter... less me."
"I felt that way too," Andrea said with a soft smile. "But liking yourself is worth more than liking everyone else."
Oscurita snorted from the shadows.
"Yeah, right, how profound. Coming soon to motivational mugs."
Ailín ignored her.
For the first time, Andrea's voice was louder than hers.
…
That night, there was a celebratory dinner.
Laughter, music, cell phone flashes.
The place overflowed with noise and joy.
After a while, Dylan approached Ailín, looking a bit nervous.
"Hey… can we go outside for a moment?" he asked.
They stepped out into the quiet night.
The air was cool, the sound of distant laughter fading behind them.
"Ailín," he said, voice trembling slightly, "I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?"
Ailín's heart did a somersault.
For a second, even Oscurita fell silent — as if her sarcasm button had been switched off.
"What's happening?" she murmured, offended. "Are you really going to let a guy into our emotional comfort zone?"
"I don't know, Dylan," Ailín replied honestly. "I need time."
He nodded with a calm smile, and they both went back inside — not quite the same as before.
When he left, Oscurita crossed her arms.
"Excellent. Romantic suspense. You're keeping the audience interested."
Ailín chuckled.
"You know, sometimes you sound like a reality show commentator?"
"Yes," said the shadow, "but a stylish one."
…
That night, Ailín couldn't sleep.
She thought about Dylan, volleyball, her future.
And Oscurita, lying somewhere in the corner of her mind, watched with a half-smile.
"You're pulling away from me, aren't you?" she asked softly.
"I just want to understand who I am."
"Aha. The existential phase. The dreaded season two."
Ailín smiled tenderly.
"Thank you for taking care of me. But now I want to learn to take care of myself."
Silence.
Only the murmur of the early morning.
At dawn, Ailín walked to college.
Dylan was waiting for her, nervous.
"You're someone very special," she said, "but I'm not ready for a relationship. I want to focus on myself."
Dylan nodded, understanding.
As she walked away, Oscurita followed behind, looking like a proud but dissatisfied mother.
"Well, at least you didn't cry. That's progress."
Ailín smiled.
"You're still unbearable."
"And you're still listening to me. So we're even."
The shadow settled quietly behind her.
It no longer dictated the course.
It just accompanied her.
And, for the first time, both seemed at peace with that.