The Space Between Us

Eduarda watched from the kitchen window as Emanuel’s laughter carried across the garden. He was lounging on the grass, a book open on his chest, while Sara leaned over him, her hair falling like a curtain. They looked perfect together—a photograph from a magazine. Eduarda’s stomach tightened. She turned away, gripping the edge of the sink.

She had loved Emanuel since they were eleven, when he’d shared his lunch with her after she forgot hers. Back then, it was simple: a shared crayon box, a secret handshake. Now, at twenty-three, it was a wound that refused to heal. Sara didn’t know. No one did.

Sara was her best friend, but also everything Eduarda wasn’t: bold, beautiful, magnetic. When Sara had moved to the city six months ago, Eduarda had been thrilled. Now she watched that thrill curdle into envy as Sara and Emanuel fell into easy intimacy.

“Eduarda! Come join us!” Sara called.

Eduarda forced a smile. “In a minute.” She poured herself a glass of water, stalling. The ice cubes clinked against the glass, a lonely sound. She remembered the last time she and Emanuel had sat in that same garden, talking about constellations. He had pointed out Orion and told her that her eyes held the same light. She had laughed it off, but the memory burned.

That night, Emanuel stayed for dinner. He sat beside Eduarda, their knees brushing under the table. She felt the familiar electricity, but when she glanced up, he was looking at Sara. “You should come to the gallery opening with me on Friday,” he said to Sara. “I have an extra ticket.”

Sara beamed. “I’d love to.”

Eduarda stabbed her pasta. She had been the one who introduced Emanuel to art, who spent hours with him in museums, explaining the brushstrokes in Van Gogh’s sunflowers. But he never asked her.

After he left, Sara collapsed on Eduarda’s bed. “He’s so sweet. Do you think he likes me?”

Eduarda’s heart cracked. “I think he does.”

Sara sighed happily. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”

Eduarda nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She made a decision. If she couldn’t have him, she would ensure his happiness—even if it meant breaking her own heart.

Over the next week, she became a matchmaker. She told Emanuel about Sara’s favorite coffee shop, her love for indie films. She told Sara about Emanuel’s shyness, his hidden humor. When Friday came, she feigned a headache and urged them to go together.

“Are you sure?” Emanuel asked, concern flickering in his eyes. He touched her forehead gently. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’ll be fine. Go have fun.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

They left, and Eduarda sat in the dark, letting the tears fall. She imagined them laughing over a painting, their hands brushing. The image was both beautiful and excruciating.

Weeks passed. Sara and Emanuel grew closer. Eduarda became a ghost in their presence, smiling through the pain. She wondered if this was love—a slow, quiet hemorrhage. She started avoiding their outings, claiming work or tiredness. The distance grew, and she felt herself fading.

One evening, Sara found her crying on the balcony. The city lights blurred through her tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Sara sat beside her. “You’ve been distant. Are you jealous?”

Eduarda shook her head, but Sara’s hand on her shoulder broke her resolve. “I love him,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved him.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Eduarda… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because he loves you.”

Sara was quiet for a long time. The wind ruffled her hair. Then she took Eduarda’s hand. “He doesn’t. He talks about you all the time. Last week, he asked me why you were pulling away. He said you’re his anchor, his best friend. I thought he just meant friendship, but now I see.”

Eduarda stared. “What do you mean?”

“He looks at you the way you look at him. I think we need to talk.”

The next day, Sara arranged a meeting at the garden where it all began. She told Emanuel the truth: Eduarda’s feelings, her own role as unwitting barrier. Emanuel’s face went pale. “I never meant…” He turned to Eduarda. “All this time, I thought you were helping me with Sara because you didn’t care.”

“I cared too much.”

He stepped closer. “It’s always been you. Since we were kids. I was too scared to say it.”

Sara slipped away, leaving them alone in the fading light. The garden smelled of jasmine, a scent that had always reminded Eduarda of summer nights and whispered secrets.

Eduarda’s tears fell freely. Emanuel wiped them away with his thumb, his touch gentle. “No more matchmaking,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

She laughed, a broken sound. “No more.”

They stood there, in the space between friendship and love, finally closing the distance. Above them, Orion was rising, and Eduarda knew she would never have to watch him from afar again.