Maximo's head was in a constant whirl. The figures and family accounts that used to occupy his thoughts had been banished this morning. The events of the previous night were still swirling in his mind. His interaction with Princess Priscilla had been different, surprisingly engaging, as if in that brief waltz they had shared something beyond words or rehearsed movements.

  Every detail of the dance came back to him: the soft texture of the princess's gloves as they brushed against his, her calm voice with a hint of shyness, and those eyes that sometimes seemed to look right through him. Something inside him longed for a similar encounter, as if this waltz was only the beginning of something deeper.

  But he also remembered clearly how Selene had burst into the party and broken any connection he had felt with Priscilla. Her red dress, a blatant challenge to the evening's code, had drawn everyone's attention and somehow destabilised the atmosphere of elegance and subtlety that had prevailed until that moment. Selene had not only interrupted his conversation with the princess, she had changed the tone of the evening, and until the end of the party her presence was felt like a hurricane.

  But Selene was not easy to judge, and he knew that very well. Although she had an arrogant attitude and a sometimes unbearable temper, Maximo understood that behind her haughty facade there was a history that had shaped her. His relationship with her was not just a friendship, but a bond born of understanding her deepest wounds.

  Selene had grown up in the shadow of a demanding father, someone who never saw enough value in his daughter's work. To Mr Akvis, Selene had always been inadequate, and this had led her to develop a personality that demanded constant attention and affirmation. She wanted to be seen, recognised, admired, even if it meant resorting to extreme methods or coming into conflict with others. Maximo couldn't really blame her. He knew that deep down, his girlfriend was just desperately seeking her father's approval, even though it seemed like a losing battle from the start.

  But still, "What was she thinking when she chose that dress?" Max wondered as he fiddled with the pen he was using for his notes. "Was she trying to impress? Provoke?" The tone of his thought was not one of annoyance, but of concern. He had known Selene for years, long enough to know that behind her haughty and sometimes rude demeanour was a girl who feared she was not enough, a girl who believed she had to fight tooth and nail for the world to notice her.

  But even if he understood her behaviour, Maximo could not ignore how he felt. The way Selene had interrupted his moment with the princess had made him feel uncomfortable, as if something important had been taken away from him. On top of that, her disparaging remark about Priscilla kept ringing in his head. "Don't hang out with that little princess, she gives me the creeps." Selene had said. Why did she seem to have such a dislike for someone who, in her opinion, had done nothing to her?

  Maximo sighed and got up from his desk to look out the window at the garden of his house. The day was bright, but his mind was clouded. He wanted to talk to her again, to understand her beyond the public image of the princess.

  Selene was also on his mind, but in a different way. Sometimes he felt that carrying his friend's insecurities was a burden that exhausted him, but he could not abandon her. She was not bad by nature, just shaped by circumstances and the wounds of her past. Still, her behaviour the night before had made him wonder how he should handle this friendship in the future. Should he be firmer with her?

  Maximo closed the ledger and rested his elbows on the desk, burying his head in his hands. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the figures danced chaotically in his mind, eclipsed by thoughts that confused him. The poppy tea and everything that had happened that night seemed to have settled in his mind like a constant echo, difficult to ignore.

  Priscilla, Selene and even the details of the evening made him restless. On the one hand, there was the moment he had shared with the princess on the dance floor, a waltz that, though brief, had changed something in him. On the other hand, the appearance of Selene in her scarlet gown and her disruptive attitude had cast a shadow over what would otherwise have been an unforgettable evening.

  As he collected his thoughts, he found himself reviewing every interaction with Priscilla. There was something about her that fascinated him. It wasn't just her beauty, though there was no denying that the princess possessed a grace that seemed innate, almost ethereal. No, it was something more subtle: the way her voice had trembled slightly as she agreed to dance with him, the sincere expression on her face as they exchanged glances. In that brief waltz, Max felt a connection that stunned him.

  "What was that?" he asked himself for the umpteenth time as he ran his hands over his face, trying to clear his mind. There was no denying it: something about the princess had caught his attention in a way he couldn't ignore. And while he longed to understand that feeling, he also knew it wasn't easy to process.

  On the other hand, his relationship with Selene was a constant source of frustration and confusion. Maximo had known Selene for years, and while he had always considered her a close friend, he was also aware of her flaws. Selene was a storm: intense, unpredictable and sometimes destructive. Her arrogant attitude and her tendency to ignore social rules were not always easy to deal with, but Maximo had learned to accept her as she was, or at least he had tried to.

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  Still, the tea party had been a revelation to him. Selene's red dress, a blatant challenge to the theme of the event, and her abrupt interruption of the waltz with Priscilla had changed the evening irrevocably. It was impossible not to notice how her friend had captured everyone's attention, as if the whole event had been designed to revolve around her.

  But Maximo knew that Selene was not acting out of pure malice. He was familiar with the circumstances that had shaped her character, and while that did not justify her behaviour, it made it understandable. Mr Akvis, her father, was a cold and demanding man who acted out of pure malice, someone who seemed incapable of showing affection or approval. Selene had spent much of her life trying to earn his respect, doing everything she could to excel and get his attention, even if it meant resorting to unconventional methods.

  Maxim remembered the times Selene had turned to him for comfort, tearfully confessing how her father had made her feel inadequate. Although her arrogant behaviour could be annoying, Maximo knew it was a mask, a shield Selene had built to protect herself from pain. That was why he had never been able to completely distance himself from her. He had been her friend for years, listening to her and supporting her even when he disagreed with her actions.

  But something had changed in him after that night. Selene had not only interrupted his moment with Priscilla; she had achieved something that Maximo could not ignore. For the first time, he was angry with her, not just for what she had done, but for what she represented. Selene was a constant reminder of what he did not want in his life: chaos, superficiality and conflict. Priscilla, on the other hand, represented something completely different.

  The princess was a breath of fresh air, with her discretion and calm. There was something about her presence that calmed him, that made him want to know more about her. Priscilla didn't need to speak loudly or hog the limelight to stand out; her mere presence was enough to fill him with curiosity. And although they'd barely exchanged a few words, Maximo felt that there was something special about her, something that drew him to her in a way he couldn't explain.

  He got up from his chair and went to the window to watch the sun illuminate the gardens of his home. The leaves on the trees were falling slowly, moved by the gentle autumn wind. — Priscilla... — he murmured her name, savouring it as if he were saying it for the first time. There was something different about that name, about that person. He wanted to see her again, he wanted to understand what it was that had captivated him so. But at the same time he knew he had to be careful. He didn't want to rush things or create a situation that could be misinterpreted.

  Selene, he knew he had to talk to her, confront her about her behaviour at the tea. He couldn't continue to ignore the way his friend treated others, especially Priscilla. But at the same time he knew it wouldn't be an easy conversation. Selene was not someone who took criticism well, and Max feared that trying to reason with her would only make things worse.

  He sighed deeply. — One thing at a time. — he told himself, trying to calm down. Max focused on the family accounts again, trying to drown his thoughts in the figures before him. He had always found a kind of refuge in calculations, a logic that did not fail, a certainty that did not require interpretation or emotion. The numbers were clear, predictable, and they never disappointed him the way people sometimes did. He immersed himself in them, checking and rechecking the income and expenditure columns, making sure everything added up.

  Though his mind seemed busy, every now and then, like an unwanted echo, the memory of last night would insist. The music, the waltz, the words exchanged with Priscilla, even Selene's interruption, it was all still there, in some corner of his mind, but Maximo did his best to keep it at bay as he continued to work.

  The sound of the door opening broke his concentration.

  Max looked up to see his older brother, Bastian, entering with his usual carefree smile.

  —How is my favourite mathematician? — Bastian asked, casually dropping himself onto one of the chairs in front of the desk.

  Maximilian laughed slightly and returned his gaze to the papers.

  —Quite well, thanks for asking. This week's accounts are perfect, we're bringing in more money than we're spending. — he replied without taking his eyes off his work.

  —Of course, I never doubted that for a second. — Bastian paused and looked at him curiously before adding in a lighter tone. — Though I've noticed something about you lately... you're distracted, lost in your thoughts. Tell me, are you in love with someone?

  Maximo suddenly looked up, surprised by the question, and let out a short laugh.

  —Now everyone wants to know if I like someone? — he replied with feigned disbelief, leaning back in his chair.

  — You look like a fool staring into space and smiling. It's hard not to notice. — Bastian replied with a laugh, not missing an opportunity to tease him.

  Maximo quickly shook him off with a gesture, trying to appear indignant, although the barely perceptible blush on his face gave him away.

  —I'm not smiling for anyone, I can assure you. — he said, looking back down at his papers as if to end the matter.

  Bastian did not seem ready to give in.

  —Of course I have, brother. I've seen it a thousand times. That dreamy expression has only one meaning: someone is keeping you awake at night.

  Maximo sighed and allowed himself to laugh this time.

  —Don't you have girls of your own to woo, Bastian? Leave me alone, man. — He gave him a funny look as he shook his head.

  They both laughed knowingly. Bastian finally got up and patted him on the shoulder before heading for the door.

  —Whatever you say, 'favourite mathematician'. Just don't get too distracted, or someone will end up taking those numbers you love so much away from you. — And with a mocking smile he left the room.

  When the sound of the door closing filled the room, Maximo was alone again. He looked at the papers in front of him for a few moments before plunging back into his work, trying to forget his brother's words.