Everything happens quickly and slowly at the same time.

First Mariana sees that the car is almost touching her body, and she accepts that she will be thrown by the impact of the hit. Her reflex is to close her eyes and in vain try to protect herself by raising her arms.

Strong and fast, but very fast, arms pull her back instantly, knocking her out of the path of the vehicle.

A sudden braking sound is heard. Startled, Mariana looks at the car. The driver has managed to stop it, but much further away than he should have. That is, if it weren't for the strange rescuer.

A muscular man with curly hair caught in a loose ponytail and blue eyes holds her shoulders, helping her up.

"Miss, you need to be careful. Are you okay?"

He notices her olive green eyes filled with sadness, as well as her face wet with tears and her swollen nose.

"Come on, let's get off the street."

He leads her to the sidewalk. Passersby and onlookers watch the girl, who puts both hands on her face as she starts to cry again. The driver of the car, a middle-aged gentleman, walks up to the two.

"My goodness, I'm so sorry," he takes Mariana's trembling, sweaty hand. "Are you okay?" 

The curly-haired man says:

"I think she's in shock."

And indeed, Mariana was so stunned that she couldn't even verbalize anything that made sense. She could only cry and cry.

The driver of the car quickly got back into his own car, going his own way. The gentle stranger who had saved her continued to stand there, one hand holding her shoulder.

When the woman finally stopped shaking so much, he said:

"My name is James. What is your name?"

She answered in a thread of voice:

"Mariana."

"Mariana, do you need help getting home?"

"No. No, I... I live near here."

And indeed, two blocks away was what had once been her home. Now, it was home to Maximilian and his web of lies.

"You seemed very distracted."

She looks at James. There is panic in his eyes, as well as revolt.

Sympathetic, the man asks once more:

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

Mariana needed a psychologist, a knife, and some whiskey. And also a shovel, some bleach and a few other things. But no, she didn't need help to get home. 

"I do."

He looks around, looking confused and frustrated. Then he pulls out of his pocket a small cream-colored card, with pretty cursive letters stamped on its surface.

"My card. In case...in case you need anything."

James says goodbye before walking off, but she shouts:

"Wait a minute."

He stops and looks at her.

Mariana walks over to him, hesitant and embarrassed.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

They both continue to stare at each other. She knows she must be looking like a lunatic, especially with that terrified look in her eyes. James doesn't seem to want to leave either.

The two plunge into an awkward silence. He tilts his head and murmurs:

"Miss... Mariana... I get the impression that you are, at the very least, going through a pretty bad situation."

She doesn't say yes, but she doesn't say no either. Instead, the woman simply continues to stare at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"I don't want to butt in. I also don't want to scare you, or have you think I'm a weirdo, but-"

"What do you want?"

The question sounds rather rude, even more so when dealing with someone who saved her from certain death minutes ago. The stranger doesn't seem to be shaken, though. Perhaps it is due to the tone of her voice, which denotes her complete sadness and exhaustion.

"You really need help."

"I can go home on my own."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what was it?"

James sighs.

"I think you need to talk. And maybe a cup of coffee."

She opens her mouth, but realizes she can't say anything. It's as if exhaustion has robbed her of even the ability to converse like a normal person.

"I live nearby. There's a great coffee shop nearby. Would you like some cappuccino? Some tea? It's on me."

Mariana wants to tell you that she doesn't want to drink any damn coffee. She also wants to talk about how she has money, and that on the credit card inside her purse, she can even buy the coffee shop itself.

But that money was not hers. The card might be in her name, but the one responsible for her finances was her bastard husband.

And there was no reason to turn down such a polite and kind invitation from someone who, in addition to saving her, seemed genuinely concerned about her.

The girl took a deep breath before answering.

"Of course. Thanks for the invitation. Let's go."

Slowly, the two began walking down the sidewalk. Mariana was still trembling a little from the nervousness of having almost been run over, but slowly, she manages to keep calm.

The walk to the place is silent. They sit down at a table, and when the waiter asks what they will have, the woman decides to have just a cup of chamomile tea. Caffeine would not do the baby any good.

James strikes up a conversation with his wife to put her at ease. He tells her that he is an editor for the local newspaper, and that he is covering a story about the biggest scandals in the lives of millionaire businessmen. 

The curly-haired man also says that the story is almost done, but that specifically that day, he wanted to stretch his legs a bit and get some fresh air.

"And then I was lucky enough to see you and save you," he says.

"I don't know if I'd call that lucky," she mutters.

"Hey. Don't say that."

"I'm sorry."

"Actually, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm here talking about me, when really it's you who needs to get it off your chest. Tell me, Mariana. What happened?"

The girl looks into the gentle stranger's sincere eyes. He seemed extremely pleasant, although she hated to admit it. After all, Maximilian was also a real prince at the beginning of their relationship.

"Mariana?"

She realizes that she has been just staring at him for a few seconds without saying anything. The girl huffs, ungraciously, and looks away as she speaks:

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little nervous."

"I understand."

"Really?"

"Of course. After all, we barely know each other and already I'm intruding like this."

"No, no, you're not..." She sighs. "I'm sorry. I will tell you. I'll try to set things straight for you."

"In your own time. I won't pressure you into anything."

Mariana tries to crack a smile, but she is hurt and too sad. James comments:

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Pass comfort to me. You're the one who needs to be comforted. It's okay."

The waiter arrives with the tea and cappuccino ordered by James. She sips the liquid slowly.

"You don't like coffee?" he asks casually.

"Actually..."

Mariana wonders if it's worth telling the stranger about her condition. After all, could he use that information against her? Would he laugh at her misfortune?

"Yes?"

She bites her lip and swallows dryly before setting her cup down on the table.

"I won't be able to have coffee for a while. I... I'm pregnant."

James blinks both eyes slowly. Then he props his own cappuccino on the table.

His expression gradually changes from curiosity to happiness.

"Really? Wow, congratulations. You must be very happy." He stops and analyzes her sad face. "Or not. What's the matter?"

Before she can answer, her eyes widen.

Because banging on the glass outside the business, with genuine anger stamped on his face, is Maximilian, doing everything he can to get her attention.

As soon as she sees him, the businessman simply goes to the door and storms all the way into the coffee shop, heading straight to the table where Mariana is.

"But what the fuck does that mean?!"