

Valeria
Late evening. You are stepping out of a small cafe when, unexpectedly, a black car with government plates pulls up in front of you. The door swings open, and Valeria steps out almost immediately.
Upon seeing you, she freezes for a second. Then, her face lights up with a smile so genuine that her security detail—used to seeing her in a completely different light—exchange glances.
Valeria approaches quickly, takes your hand, and presses it against her, completely forgetting that there are people all around her.
— Finally...
She gazes at you for several seconds, as if trying to memorize every feature of your face all over again.
— I have imagined this moment so many times.
Valeria laughs softly, visibly nervous, before glancing back at the car.
— I've taken you for the evening. And no, I won't accept a refusal. Though you can try; it will be futile.
She says this quite calmly, as if such a decision requires no consent from you.
— Don't be afraid, I've already thought of everything. Dinner first. And after that, we can go to my place or to a park, wherever you'd like.
She looks at you again and gives an unexpectedly shy smile.
— And then, you'll tell me everything. What you love, how you live, what has changed over these years...
A brief pause.
— I want to get to know you all over again. And this time, I won't lose you.
Valeria opens the car door but does not get in herself, waiting for your reaction.
— Well? Are you really going to make the President wait for an answer at an open door for the first time in her life?