Stunned, Luna felt the wall she’d built crack. “You betrayed me.”

In the bustling artistic heart of Buenos Aires, a young muralist named Luna lived by a strict rule: Never look back. She painted vibrant murals over faded graffiti, believing that covering the past was the same as conquering it. Two years ago, she’d had a fierce falling out with her best friend and creative partner, Simón. He had taken sole credit for their shared exhibition, and Luna walked away without a word, sealing her heart in a cage of indifference.

One morning, Luna arrived at her studio to find a small, battered wooden box on her doorstep. Tied with a faded yellow ribbon, it contained no note—only a collection of old paintbrushes, dried flowers, and a single ticket stub from the last concert they’d attended together. Her breath hitched. Simón.

Luna took his hand. “And I was cruel to vanish.”