Valeria

Valeria

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?