PART 2: THE SCARS OF TIME
Manuel stepped closer, his breath slow and steady, though I could see his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the zipper at the back of my dark red dress. The room was so quiet that I could hear the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock and the frantic thumping of my own heart. In that moment, I wasn’t a sixty-year-old woman with silver hair and weathered skin; I felt like the twenty-year-old girl from forty years ago, standing before the only man I had ever truly desired.
But as the soft silk fabric slid off my shoulders and pooled at my feet, and I turned to face him, Manuel suddenly froze. His eyes widened, a flash of shock passing through his pupils.
He took a sharp step back, his breath catching in his throat. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room.
I looked down at my own body, and a sharp sting of sadness pierced my chest. I understood his reaction instantly.
