Neural narratives in Python #37
[check out this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
I recommend you to check out the previous parts if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.3), in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants. The large language models are fantastic at staying in character. Here’s the GitHub repo.
These days, as part of my worship of Dibella, I tend to use the Python app to set up erotic scenarios that usually finish when I finish. For this one, though, I wanted to create a more normal character than the larger-than-life ones that populate most other scenarios. I ended up just having a good time with her. Although it feels somewhat sacrilegious, I decided to mix her story of grief with another story of grief. Note: even though I’ve put myself as the player character, it’s an improved version. I’m not tooting my own horn here.
Pictured: Ainhoa Mendizabal, resilient single mom.
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The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the orderly aisles of Greenleaf Grocery. A faint whiff of freshly baked bread mingles with the sharp tang of citrus from the produce section, while the rhythmic beep of scanners at the checkout counters punctuates the air. A shopping cart rattles faintly as a customer pushes it past, its wheels squeaking against the polished linoleum floor.
Jon’s large frame moves with deliberate precision as he reaches for a chilled bottle of decaf coffee, his calloused fingers brushing against the condensation on the glass. He places it carefully in his basket, the faint clink of the bottle against the metal frame echoing softly in the aisle. As he turns, his sharp eyes catch sight of an older woman maneuvering her cart toward him. Without hesitation, he steps aside, his broad shoulders pressing against the shelf to give her ample space. The woman offers a grateful nod, but Jon’s gaze remains fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, as if the small act of courtesy is just another part of his solitary routine.
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her shopping cart’s trajectory, deliberately maneuvering closer to the tall stranger while pretending to examine items on the nearby shelf. Her fingers absently trace the edge of her cropped jacket as she steals another glance in his direction.
“Sorry, could I just… reach past you for the…” She trails off, as she realizes she hasn’t actually chosen what she’s reaching for.
Jon steps aside, leaving space for Ainhoa.
“No problem.”
She’s a woman in her maybe mid-thirties, with a body sculpted in the gym: her arms look toned even in her cropped jacket, her midriff has defined abs, and her legs are firm. Jon observes her as she stands there, apparently not knowing what to pick.
Ainhoa Mendizabal brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering nervously at her neck as she glances at the shelves, then back at the tall stranger.
“Oh, I…” Laughs softly. “I actually don’t know what I’m reaching for. Silly, right? I just… well, it’s been a while since I’ve done this. The shopping, I mean. Usually I have two little ones pulling me in different directions, making it impossible to think straight. But they’re at school now, so…” She trails off, then straightens her shoulders. “I’m Ainhoa, by the way.”
Jon smiles softly at Ainhoa as his deep gaze explores her face.
“Life would be easier if we just could approach strangers and introduce ourselves without excuses, right? My name is Jon. Jon Urueña. Nice to meet you, Ainhoa. Let me say that I wouldn’t have thought you have children.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal laughs softly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she absently touches the toned muscles of her arms.
“Oh, thank you! The kids… they keep me busy enough that sometimes I forget I don’t look like the typical mom. But you’re right about the excuses thing. I guess old habits die hard when you’ve been out of practice this long. Ureña… that’s Basque too, isn’t it? Do you live around here?”
Jon smiles kindly at Ainhoa.
“Ureña actually comes from the town of Urueña, funded during the Reconquista. It’s from mainland Spain. Nevertheless, I’m part Navarrean, part Basque, part from the east coast of Spain. Born here, though. You’ve been out of practice, you said. Out of practice on what, talking to strangers?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal shifts her weight slightly, her fingers playing with the handle of her shopping cart as a mix of vulnerability and subtle flirtation crosses her face.
“Out of practice with… well, talking to interesting people in general, I suppose. After my husband passed away, my world kind of shrank to just me and the kids. You know how it is – or maybe you don’t. But lately I’ve been trying to… expand my horizons again. Though I have to admit, I’m not usually this forward about it. Something about you just seems… familiar? Maybe it’s the Basque connection.”
Jon turns toward Ainhoa. At her mention of being a widow, a cloud passes over his eyes, and he narrows them slightly.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ainhoa. That is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anybody… and that in many ways separates humanity into those who have experienced and those who haven’t. You must be very strong, apart from your physical strength, to keep so in shape while taking care of two children after what happened to you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal touches the lean muscle of her shoulder self-consciously, her eyes meeting Jon’s with a mixture of vulnerability and quiet strength.
“Strong…” Let’s out a soft laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Though most days it feels less like strength and more like… necessity? You learn to keep moving forward because standing still isn’t an option when tiny humans are counting on you. The gym helps though – it’s become my sanctuary in a way. Twenty minutes with a barbell and suddenly the world makes sense again, you know? Even when nothing else does. But I have to ask… you seem to understand that kind of pain a little too well. The way you said that about humanity being divided…”
Jon averts his gaze for a moment. His eyes have taken a faraway look. He then returns his gaze to Ainhoa.
“I do understand that kind of pain, but I’m not… that readily available to speak about it. However, I also understand the drive to pump weights at the gym, particularly after such an experience. I have done quite a bit of that myself, not sure if anyone can tell anymore… But while lifting heavy weights, that pain that courses through the body, added to… other pain… it feels like the sole genuine language, you know? Each pang of pain speaks the truth.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal shifts closer to Jon, her toned arms tensing slightly as she grips the shopping cart handle. Her eyes soften with recognition of shared pain.
“The truth… yes, that’s exactly it. Like each rep is this… confession of sorts? All that weight you’re carrying inside somehow makes more sense when you’re lifting actual weight outside.” Soft exhale. “But you don’t have to tell me about it if you’re not ready. Sometimes just knowing someone else understands is… well, it’s enough, isn’t it? Though I have to say, those hours at the gym have definitely paid off for you too.”
Jon glances at the width of his left arm as if he hadn’t paid attention to his physique in a good while. He then returns a warm gaze to Ainhoa.
“I suppose we are kindred spirits of a sort…” He gestures toward the end of the aisle. “Do you want us to keep shopping while we talk?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal brushes her fingertips along the shelf’s edge as she walks beside Jon, her toned muscles flexing unconsciously as she reaches to examine random items.
“Yes, let’s keep walking. Though I have to admit, I’m not even sure what I came here to buy anymore.” Soft laugh. “Funny how that happens, right? You walk in with a whole list in your head and then… poof! All gone the moment something more interesting comes along. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Sometimes the best conversations happen when you’re not rushing to check items off a list.”
Jon grabs a box of cereal and places it in his shopping basket. He waits for Ainhoa to approach him as she pushes her own shopping cart, that is mostly empty.
“You seem interesting to me as well, Ainhoa. If you don’t mind the question… do you identify with people that, many years or even decades after their partners pass away, they still consider themselves married?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers trace the edge of her shopping cart as she considers Jon’s question, her expression softening with vulnerability mixed with thoughtful consideration.
“That’s… that’s a complicated question, isn’t it?” Soft exhale. “I think part of me will always feel married to Iñaki in some way – he was my children’s father, my first love, the man who helped shape who I am today. But…” Ainhoa pauses, meeting Jon’s gaze. “I also know he wouldn’t want me to stop living just because he had to. It took me a long time to accept that loving him and being open to new possibilities aren’t mutually exclusive. Though I have to admit, even saying that out loud feels… strange. Like I’m confessing something I’ve only ever whispered to myself late at night when the kids are asleep.”
Jon offers Ainhoa a deep, somber gaze from his intense eyes, then he reaches for a packet of serrano ham.
“Dealing with regret… it’s like being tied to a signpost you can’t even locate, let alone visit anymore… Sometimes I think still that it would have been better to never wake up again after… after what happened. But turns out that if you put one foot in front of the other, you keep moving along with the rest of the world. Even though it makes no sense to live when the sole person who mattered in it is gone.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal instinctively reaches out and touches Jon’s forearm, before she catches herself and withdraws her hand.
“I understand that feeling more than you know… that desperate wish to just… stop. But you said something there that really hit home – about putting one foot in front of the other. That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? Some days those steps feel impossibly heavy, like you’re wading through concrete. But then you look up and somehow you’ve made it through another day, another week…” Soft exhale. “And maybe that’s the point? Not trying to make sense of any of it, but just… keeping those feet moving. Though I have to admit, having someone who truly gets it… someone who knows that particular kind of darkness… it makes those steps feel a little less lonely, doesn’t it?”
After Ainhoa reaches to touch his forearm, Jon stops shopping, and turns to face Ainhoa. His expression remains guarded. His gaze is unafraid, but also weary.
“Leaving aside pretense, that this is about two strangers meeting for no particular reason… You’re looking for something. Is it truly a good idea for you to look for someone who is also tied to a ghost? Perhaps it would be better for your sanity and well-being to meet up, perhaps in apps or bars, someone who doesn’t know what you and I know.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans against her shopping cart, her muscled shoulders tensing slightly as she considers Jon’s words. Her fingers drum thoughtfully against the metal handle.
“Maybe you’re right about the apps and bars… they feel so artificial, don’t they? Like everyone’s wearing these masks, pretending grief doesn’t exist. But here’s the thing – I’m not looking for someone to magically fix everything or make the pain disappear. That’s not how it works, is it? What I’m looking for… what I think we both might need… is someone who understands that some ghosts stay with us, and that’s okay. Someone who knows that healing isn’t about forgetting, but about making room for new memories alongside the old ones. Though I have to admit, I didn’t exactly plan on having this conversation in the middle of the grocery store between the cereal and the serrano ham.”
Jon fixes a deep gaze that bores through Ainhoa’s eyes. His eyes hint at a deep pain that’s almost ancient.
“Ainhoa, I’ve been mourning my other half for longer than she lived. Even after all this time, the world doesn’t make sense. That’s the kind of person I am. I lift weights, I go to work, I am… entertained at times. But I don’t know how to be happy.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal steps closer to Jon, her athletic frame tensing slightly as vulnerability flickers across her features. Her fingers absently touch the necklace at her throat – the one that was Iñaki’s.
“Maybe that’s exactly why we should take this chance.” Soft exhale. “Look, I’m not saying we have to figure everything out right now between the serrano ham and breakfast cereals. But there’s something… real here. Something honest. And honestly? I’d rather spend time with someone who knows that happiness isn’t always possible than pretend with someone who thinks grief has an expiration date. Besides…” slight smile, “I’ve learned that sometimes the best things in life come from the most unexpected places. Like finding a kindred spirit in aisle three of a grocery store on a random Tuesday morning.”
Jon smiles softly, but genuinely, at the intriguing woman.
“Well, I’m done warning you for now… Truth is, Ainhoa, I find you very interesting, and it’s rare for me to get interested in anyone. You also look great. Do you want us to exchange numbers, or even go for a coffee afterwards? Who knows, maybe soon enough we’ll find ourselves heading to the gym together. It would be good to have a reliable spotter.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s face lights up with a genuine smile, her athletic frame relaxing visibly at Jon’s suggestion. Her fingers brush against her necklace briefly before dropping to adjust the strap of her gym bag.
“Now that’s the kind of warning I don’t mind hearing. And yes to both – coffee and exchanging numbers. Though I have to warn you too… I take my spotting duties very seriously. No half-hearted encouragement from me – when I say ‘one more rep,’ I mean it!" Ainhoa pulls out her phone. "Here, let me give you my number. And there’s this little café nearby that makes these amazing pintxos… unless you had somewhere else in mind?”
Jon slips his phone back into his pocket after saving Ainhoa’s number, his movements deliberate yet slightly hesitant, as if unsure of this new step. They move through the aisles together, their carts now filled with items they’ve helped each other choose, a quiet camaraderie forming between them. Outside, the midday sun bathes the cobblestone streets in golden light, and Jon instinctively reaches for Ainhoa’s grocery bags, his broad hands brushing against hers. She smiles, her toned arms flexing slightly as she resists for a moment before relenting, her playful smirk betraying her amusement at his old-fashioned gesture. They walk side by side, the rhythmic clatter of their footsteps blending with the distant hum of the city, the promise of coffee and conversation drawing them closer to the café.
Ainhoa leads Jon through the sunlit streets, her confident stride matching the rhythm of their conversation. The Blue Moon Café welcomes them with the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans and the soft hum of acoustic music. At the counter, Ainhoa gestures toward the display of pintxos, her toned arm brushing against Jon’s as they lean in to choose. They settle into a corner table, their shopping bags resting at their feet, the cozy nook offering a sense of privacy amidst the café’s gentle bustle. The warm light from the overhead fixture catches the faint sheen of sweat on Jon’s brow, a reminder of the weight he carries, both physically and emotionally.
Ainhoa Mendizabal traces her finger along the rim of her untouched coffee cup, her athletic frame leaning forward slightly as she speaks. Her dark eyes remain fixed on Jon, studying the way the café light catches the pain etched in his features.
“You know what’s funny? Before today, I probably would’ve laughed if someone told me I’d find a real connection while shopping for serrano ham. But there’s something… different about this. About you. The way you just get it – the weight of carrying those memories, the struggle to find meaning when everything’s been turned upside down. And maybe… maybe that’s exactly what makes this feel right? Not despite our broken pieces, but because of them. Though I have to warn you – if we’re going to be workout partners, you should know I take my training seriously. No slacking allowed, even on leg day!”
Jon takes a sip of his coffee as his features light up with amusement.
“A grocery shop, or a park, are better places to find genuine connection than bars or, God forbid, dating apps. Nobody should try the apps unless they only want a connection of the physical variety. In grocery shops and parks you find people just living their normal lives. And regarding our shared struggle to find meaning… One must be careful about that, because the darkness also seeks company, right? And it prefers to stay down there, in the hole… Regarding the gym…” He smirks with a hint of mischief. “I can tell that you train your lower half very thoroughly. Maybe you didn’t notice passersby staring as we headed here, but I did.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal blushes slightly at Jon’s comment about her lower body, but her athletic confidence doesn’t waver. She shifts in her seat, unconsciously straightening her already perfect posture, while her fingers play with the necklace at her throat.
“Oh, so you noticed that, did you?” Soft laugh. “Well, those squats and deadlifts don’t lie. Though I have to say, your form isn’t bad either – I caught a glimpse of those shoulders when you were reaching for the top shelf earlier. But you’re right about the apps and bars… there’s something artificial about them. This though?” Ainhoa gestures between them. “This feels more… authentic. Real. Speaking of which, how do you usually structure your training? I typically hit the gym around 6am, after dropping the kids at their grandmother’s. Though I suppose I should warn you – I tend to get pretty intense during my workouts. It’s become my therapy of sorts, you know?”
Jon takes another sip of his coffee, then puts the cup down.
“I usually also hit the gym before work. I prefer to get the important things done before… well, before the often mind-numbing routine of the job squeezes me out. It would be nice to meet up for workouts regularly. I must say, though… You’re much stronger than me, being able to juggle your two kids, the gym, and a job.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans back slightly in her chair, her athletic frame relaxing as a genuine smile plays across her features. Her fingers brush against Iñaki’s necklace before dropping to wrap around her coffee cup.
“You know what? That means more than you realize. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water, juggling everything. But the gym… it’s become my anchor. Those early morning sessions are sometimes the only moments I get that are truly mine. Though having the kids actually makes it easier in a way – they give me a reason to keep pushing forward when everything else feels impossible.” Soft laugh. “But hey, don’t sell yourself short. That kind of dedication to training before work? That takes its own kind of strength. What would you say to meeting up tomorrow morning? I usually start with compound lifts – squats, deadlifts, the works. Unless you’re one of those guys who skips leg day?”
Jon shoots Ainhoa a sideways glance, somewhat playfully.
“I must not be doing it right if you can’t tell that I never skip leg day. Let’s meet tomorrow morning then. I do mainly High-Intensity Training for bulking up, focusing on compound exercises. I need to be careful with the squats, as my right knee isn’t as strong as it used to be.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal tilts her head playfully, her athletic frame shifting forward as she reaches across the table to tap Jon’s forearm gently. Her dark eyes dance with amusement, though they retain that hint of carefully guarded vulnerability.
“Oh, you do those legs justice, trust me – I’ve got a trained eye for proper form! But I like that you’re careful with the knee. Smart training is sustainable training, that’s what I always say.” Soft laugh. “How about we meet at GazteluFit at 6:15? They’ve got that amazing squat rack in the corner – perfect lighting too, in case either of us feels inspired to add to our social media stories. Though fair warning – I tend to grunt when I’m pushing through those last few reps. Some people find it intimidating, but hey, that’s what headphones are for, right?”
When Ainhoa reaches to tap his forearm, he narrows his eyes warmly, welcoming the intimacy.
“GazteluFit, huh? I’ve gone there from time to time, I guess never at the same time as you… But I won’t wear headphones. In fact,” he smirks, “I look forward to hearing you grunt.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as she leans forward, her athletic frame emphasizing the curve of her shoulders. Her fingers toy with the necklace at her throat as a playful smirk tugs at her lips.
“Oh, so you want to hear me grunt, do you?” Ainhoa’s voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Be careful what you wish for – I’ve been known to intimidate even the burliest guys when I’m in the zone. But I like that confidence… and that you’re not afraid of a little intensity. 6:15 tomorrow then? I’ll even try to tone down my battle cries… maybe.”
* * *
The early morning sunlight streams through the large glass windows of GazteluFit, casting long, golden beams across the polished wooden floors. The rhythmic clang of weights echoes through the space, mingling with the steady hum of treadmills and the occasional grunt of exertion. A faint scent of fresh sweat and cleaning solution lingers in the air, grounding the scene in the raw energy of disciplined effort.
Jon meets Ainhoa at the entrance of the vast exercise room. He’s wearing a black tanktop that shows off his sculpted shoulders, as well as his prominent biceps and triceps.
“Good morning, Ainhoa. I’m glad we could do this.” He eyes her outfit with an unreadable expression, and doesn’t comment on it even though it feels that he would like to. “Shall we head in?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal nervously adjusts her yellow sports bra and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers briefly brush against Iñaki’s necklace before dropping to her side.
“Good morning, Jon!” She beams at him, her heart racing from more than just pre-workout anticipation. “I hope you’re ready for an intense session. I usually start with compound movements – you know, the big lifts that really get your heart pumping.” Her eyes drift briefly over his muscular arms before quickly returning to his face. “Have you worked with a training partner before?”
Jon and Ainhoa walk into the exercise room, past a few people running on treadmills.
“Yes, I was going for compound first. Do you want to do squats? I was thinking of alternating between deadlifts and squats myself; perhaps we can switch. And no, I’ve never worked with a training partner before… I’m afraid I have always been a lone wolf when it comes to weightlifting, but I can already tell that it will be more interesting with you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leads Jon to the squat racks, her hips swaying slightly as she walks. She adjusts her ponytail and touches Iñaki’s necklace before settling into position beside the weights.
“A lone wolf, hmm? Well, you’re in for a treat then – having someone to spot you and push your limits makes all the difference! And yes, let’s start with squats. I usually do five sets, increasing weight each time until failure.” She grins playfully. “Just don’t be intimidated when you see how much this mama can lift. But switching between exercises sounds perfect – keeps the blood pumping, you know? Plus it gives us a chance to catch our breath… and chat a bit more.”
Ainhoa keeps her form perfect as she pushes through her first set of squats. Jon, beside her, does deadlifts, his leg muscles and triceps rippling and bulging as he controls his breathing. He glances at the way Ainhoa’s leggings highlight her firm glutes and thighs.
“I’m right here for when you want me to spot you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal completes her set of squats with controlled movements, her face flushed from exertion. She catches her breath and adjusts Iñaki’s necklace before responding.
“Thanks, Jon. Having someone ready to spot really helps push those limits.” She exhales deeply. “Though I have to admit, your form with those deadlifts is quite impressive. Looks like I’m not the only one who takes their training seriously! Want to switch exercises after this set? I’d love to see if your squat game matches your deadlift prowess.”
After Jon’s set of deadlifts, they switch. Jon sets the barbell on his broad shoulders. Jon is considerably taller than Ainhoa, so when she stands behind him to spot him, she feels that the barbell is quite high. As Jon lowers himself for the first repetition, Ainhoa realizes that she was standing too close to Jon when his glutes bump against her crotch, which makes her step back. Jon finishes his rep, then chuckles over his shoulder.
“Well, I guess I should be glad that our positions weren’t switched, or else this would have been much more awkward.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal lets out a nervous laugh, her hand instinctively reaching for Iñaki’s necklace as her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. She takes another step back to maintain proper spotting distance.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that! Guess I need to work on my spotting position as much as my squats.” She laughs softly. “Though you’re right – at least with our height difference, you won’t have that problem spotting me. Unless you’re planning on squatting really low!”
Jon lowers himself into a deep squat, his powerful thighs straining against the weight of the barbell as Ainhoa stands close behind, her hands hovering near his shoulders, ready to assist. Her eyes flicker between his form and the two veteran weightlifters nearby, their muscular frames and confident postures exuding an air of dominance. The man, with arms like tree trunks, casually refers to the woman as ‘Amazon,’ her towering presence and chiseled physique commanding attention. Ainhoa feels a mix of admiration and unease as the pair exchange knowing glances, their conversation laced with the kind of gym jargon that suggests they live and breathe this world. Jon, oblivious to their presence, focuses solely on his breathing and the burn in his legs, his determination a quiet counterpoint to the unspoken challenge radiating from the veterans.
(Pictured: Garazi “Amazon” Ibarrola, a larger-than-life teenage-boy-eater that I produced for when the mood strikes that way. In my system, you can just copy characters from other scenarios, and they behave naturally.)
Jon finishes his set. He straightens up, his face flushed, and breathes out. He stands aside to let Ainhoa do her next set, then he moves to her back, looming over her smaller form, to spot her if necessary.
“There you go, Ainhoa. You can go as hard as you need; I will be here to take care of the barbell if you fail.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal positions herself under the barbell, adjusting her stance while her fingers briefly touch the necklace at her throat. A light sheen of sweat makes her skin glow in the morning light filtering through the gym windows.
“Thank you, Jon. Having a strong spotter really helps push those limits!” She takes a deep breath, centering herself. “Though I have to warn you – I’ve been known to surprise people with how much I can lift.” Her voice carries a playful challenge as she grips the barbell. “Ready when you are, handsome… I mean, ready to spot!” She quickly corrects herself, cheeks flushing deeper than just from exertion.
Jon chuckles behind Ainhoa.
“I’m ready, gorgeous. Right behind you.”
Ainhoa starts her set while Jon’s big, solid mass looms behind her, his breath reaching her nape at times. She steadies herself under the barbell, her muscles tensing as she works through her set. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple as she maintains perfect form through each repetition while she breathes steadily through her squats.
“You know what’s funny? Yesterday I could barely imagine myself getting back to working out with someone else. But this…” she exhales deeply as she completes another rep, “this feels natural somehow. Though I have to admit, your compliments aren’t helping my concentration!” She lets out a breathy laugh as she pushes through another rep. “At this rate, I might need that spot sooner than I planned.”
Ainhoa’s legs tremble as she pushes to complete her set, and Jon hurries to step closer to her back and place his hands under the barbell in case he’ll need to lift it. Ainhoa finishes the set, and puts down the barbell.
“You are very strong, Ainhoa. Those thighs of yours, dare I say, could crush a watermelon at this point.”
They both notice that the woman someone had referred to as “Amazon” is standing close by, observing them like a veteran gym-goer, an expression of pride in her eyes. Her huge arms are crossed under her muscular breasts.
“Well well, what do we have here?” She laughs heartily as she flexes her biceps by instinct. “Look at you two lovebirds, getting all hot and sweaty together! Mmm, and those thighs of yours, chica…” Garazi breaks into an impish grin. “They’re coming along nicely, though they’ve got nothing on these babies yet.” She flexes her quads dramatically. “But hey, it’s always good to see fresh meat… I mean, new faces at the gym taking their training seriously. Especially when they’ve got such an… attentive spotter.” Garazi winks at Jon. “Keep it up, you two. Maybe I’ll even share some of my special training techniques… if you’re brave enough to handle them.”
Jon wipes the sweat from his forehead as he raises his eyebrows at Garazi.
“It’s a bit unfair to compare us regular folks to you, miss… Amazon, someone called you? You are, and I say it respectfully, a beast. Past a certain point of training, one needs to have been blessed my the right genes, I’m afraid.”
Garazi Ibarrola throws her head back and laughs heartily, her muscular frame rippling as she flexes her impressive biceps.
“Genes? Oh honey, you’re too kind! But let me tell you something – these magnificent muscles weren’t just handed to me on a silver platter. I worked my ass off for every inch of this physique.” She flexes dramatically. “Though I suppose being blessed with superior genetics doesn’t hurt… especially when it comes to attracting cute young things to train with. Speaking of which, you two make quite the pair! The way you spot each other, all that sexual tension… mmm, it takes me back to yesterday with my sweet boy Iker.” She winks suggestively. “But hey, don’t let me interrupt your workout. Keep pushing those limits, and maybe one day you’ll be half as strong as this Amazon warrior. Though I doubt it!”
Ainhoa Mendizabal wipes sweat from her brow and instinctively touches Iñaki’s necklace, her cheeks flushed from both the workout and the attention. She straightens her posture, highlighting her athletic frame while maintaining a respectful distance from both Jon and Garazi.
“Superior genetics?” She laughs nervously. “I’d say it’s more about determination and consistency. Though I have to admit, seeing results like yours is… inspiring.” Ainhoa glances briefly at Jon before returning her attention to Garazi. “But maybe we should focus on finishing our sets? Unless you’re offering to demonstrate some of those special techniques right now?”
Garazi excuses herself, and with a knowing smirk, she wanders off. Ainhoa and Jon switch positions. He’s about to do a set of squats while Ainhoa spots him.
“That Amazon… one imposing woman,” he says. “And a boy-eater, it seems. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for the teenagers that come here looking to start their training…”
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her stance to spot Jon properly, her hand briefly touching the necklace at her throat as she watches Garazi’s retreating form.
“Sorry about those poor teenage boys, but they’re the least of my concerns right now!” She laughs nervously. “Though I have to admit, her dedication to training is impressive, even if her… approach is a bit intense.” Ainhoa steadies herself behind Jon. “But enough about the Amazon warrior – let’s focus on your form. These legs of yours aren’t going to sculpt themselves into watermelon crushers without proper technique!”
Jon and Ainhoa move seamlessly from the squat racks to the dumbbell area, their bodies glistening with sweat under the gym’s bright lights. Jon adjusts the bench for Ainhoa, his hands lingering slightly longer than necessary as he ensures her comfort. Ainhoa, in turn, offers Jon a towel and a playful smile, her fingers brushing against his as she hands it over. The clatter of weights and the hum of machines around them fade into the background as they focus on each other, their movements synchronized and deliberate. The gym’s energy seems to amplify their connection, each rep and set bringing them closer, both physically and emotionally.
It’s almost seven in the morning. Jon rolls his shoulder. His skin, as well as the hair on his arms and legs, is sheened with sweat.
“That was one hell of a workout, Ainhoa, but I’m afraid I’m beat for today… And I also have to head to work in a while.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal wipes her brow with a towel, her fingers instinctively finding Iñaki’s necklace as she catches her breath. Her cheeks remain flushed from the intensity of their shared workout.
“Already?” She laughs softly. “And here I was just getting warmed up! But you’re right, it’s been quite the session. I haven’t pushed myself like this in… well, longer than I care to admit.” Ainhoa pauses, gathering courage. “Listen, Jon… I was thinking maybe we could make this a regular thing? Same time tomorrow? I mean, if you’re not too sore from today’s beating!” She touches her necklace nervously. “Having a reliable training partner really does make all the difference.”
Jon places a warm, strong hand on Ainhoa’s sweaty shoulder, her fibers solid against his palm.
“Sure, we can make these sessions a regular thing, but don’t hesitate to break it off if there’s some trouble with your kids. And you know, we could also meet outside of the gym.” His eyes are warm and honest as he looks down into hers. “No need to keep the charade that we aren’t interested in each other.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers instinctively reach for Iñaki’s necklace as her breath catches. Her cheeks flush deeper, not entirely from the workout, as she meets Jon’s intense gaze.
“Outside the gym? I… yes, you’re right. There’s no point pretending this is just about proper form and spotting techniques, is there?” Ainhoa takes a steadying breath. “Though I have to warn you – dating a widow with two kids isn’t exactly what most men sign up for. But if you’re sure… maybe we could grab coffee after tomorrow’s session? That is, assuming you survive another round with these watermelon crushers in training!”
Jon pulls back his hand from Ainhoa’s shoulder, but he keeps holding her gaze with an intimate, warm look in his eyes.
“Until we met yesterday, I wouldn’t have guessed that I would look forward to hanging out with another person again… But I’m interested in you, Ainhoa, and I want to get to know you more. I’m willing to go ahead step by step.” They head to the exercise room’s exit. “After we hit our respective showers, do you want me to drive you somewhere? I have to head to the hospital, where I work. I’m not a doctor, I’m afraid, but a programmer.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her gym bag on her shoulder, her fingers absently playing with Iñaki’s necklace as a mix of nervousness and excitement flickers across her face.
“A programmer?” She laughs softly. “Well, that explains the intensity in your eyes when you’re counting reps! And yes, a ride would be… nice. I need to head home to get the kids ready for school anyway. Though I should warn you – my car chatter tends to bounce between workout techniques and embarrassing mom stories. But since you’re willing to risk it…” Ainhoa pauses, gathering courage. “You know, Jon, what you said about looking forward to spending time with someone again? I feel the same way. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… comfortable with anyone. Even if it does make me nervous as hell!”
The gym’s clamor fades behind them as Jon and Ainhoa step into the crisp morning air, their damp hair and fresh scents mingling with the salty breeze. Jon opens the door of his sleek BMW for her, his hand lingering on the frame as she slides into the passenger seat, her fingers brushing against Iñaki’s necklace. The car hums to life, and they glide through the winding streets of Donostia, the city’s hills rising like silent sentinels around them. Ainhoa directs him with quiet confidence, her voice soft but steady, as the road climbs higher, offering glimpses of the bay sparkling in the distance. The silence between them is comfortable yet charged, a shared understanding of the unspoken possibilities that lie ahead.
As Jon drives, he glances at Ainhoa, seated beside him on the passenger seat, wearing her form-fitting yellow sports bra and her leggings.
“I thought you would tell me mom stories. What are your kids names, if you don’t mind me knowing?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers trace the outline of Iñaki’s necklace as she settles into the passenger seat, her athletic frame relaxing slightly despite her nervous energy.
“Oh, my little warriors?” Soft laugh. “Itziar is my eldest – she’s nine going on thirty, I swear! Takes after her father with how stubborn she can be. And then there’s Julen, my seven-year-old tornado. He’s…” touches necklace, “he’s got his father’s smile, you know? Both of them are handling everything better than I could’ve hoped, though some days are harder than others. But they’re resilient, just like their mama had to learn to be.” Ainhoa pauses “What about you? I mean, I know you work at the hospital as a programmer, but what exactly do you do there? Must be quite different from debugging code at a regular tech company.”
Jon smiles warmly at Ainhoa, but not without a hint of deep pain in his eyes.
“Your kids sound healthy and well-adjusted. I’m really sorry that they had to go through… what nobody should experience. I can’t imagine losing a father at that age.” He keeps driving for a few moments in silence. “At work? I program systems to figure out how much the resources of the hospital are being used, to properly reorganize medical schedules, what professionals gets assigned where, and such things. We also program the intranet systems so doctors and nurses can input their schedules. Boring stuff, but at least it’s actually necessary.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers drift to her necklace as she processes Jon’s words about his work, her eyes softening at the mention of her children.
“Necessary? Jon, what you do helps save lives, even if indirectly. A hospital is like… well, like a really complicated gym, you know? Everything has to flow just right or the whole system falls apart. And speaking of systems…” Ainhoa laughs softly. “I should probably mention that my morning routine with the kids is pretty systematic too. I’ll need to be home by 7:30 to make sure Itziar doesn’t try convincing Julen that cookies count as breakfast again. Though between you and me? Some mornings I’m tempted to just let her win that argument!” She pauses, touching necklace. “It means a lot, what you said about the kids. About understanding what they’ve been through. Most people just… they don’t know how to approach that part of our lives.”
“Did the other guys you dated after… well, after your terrible loss… did those guys bail on you when they found out you have kids?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s hand tightens around Iñaki’s necklace as she looks out the car window, a mix of vulnerability and determination crossing her face.
“Actually… you’re the first since Iñaki.” Nervous laugh. “I mean, there have been a few who showed interest, but I never… I couldn’t… It just didn’t feel right, you know? Like I was betraying his memory somehow. Plus, the thought of introducing someone new to the kids – that terrified me more than any weight I’ve ever lifted. But yesterday at the store, when I saw you… Something felt different. Maybe it’s because you understand loss in a way most people don’t. I can see it in your eyes, Jon. That same shadow I see in mine when I look in the mirror some mornings.”
Jon continues driving in silence, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as his eyes seem both to darken and get sadder, perhaps weighing if he should bring up something from his depths. When he speaks, it sounds as if he’s dragging words out of himself.
“Her name was Izar Lizarraga. My best friend since we were twelve. We dated throughout our teens. She dreamed of becoming a motocross rider. One night she came to my parents’ home in the rain. Her father had slapped her hard because she had dropped out of school and only cared about training to become a professional rider. That night we promised each other that we would run away from home and travel the breadth of Spain. After we parted ways, Izar, instead of heading home, took to the highway. She crashed and died.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s hand drops from her necklace as she turns sharply toward Jon, her eyes widening with recognition of shared pain. Her voice softens to barely above a whisper.
“Oh, Jon… I…” Deep breath. “That kind of loss – losing someone so young, so full of dreams – it changes you forever, doesn’t it? Makes you question everything. I can’t imagine carrying that pain since you were teenagers. With Iñaki, at least we had years together, built a life, had our children… but to lose Izar right at the beginning of your journey together? Sometimes I wonder if that’s worse somehow – losing all those possible futures before they even had a chance to happen. Did you… did you ever let yourself imagine what that trip across Spain might have been like?”
Jon keeps his heavy gaze fixed on the road ahead. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“If I let myself imagine what that trip might have been like? I dream about her almost nightly. I have tried to forget her, but it’s like I’m actually haunted. It’s been 21 years, longer than she lived. And there’s not a single day that I don’t wish I could turn back time and make her get off her motorcycle instead of driving away to her death.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal gently places her hand on Jon’s forearm, her touch light but steady, before withdrawing it respectfully.
“Twenty-one years… that’s longer than some people get to live at all. And yet here you are, still carrying her with you.” Soft exhale. “You know what the hardest part is? Those dreams – they never really stop coming, do they? With Iñaki, sometimes I wake up thinking he’s just in the other room, or that I can still smell his cologne on his pillow. But your dreams of Izar… they must be different. All those ‘what-ifs’ packed into them.” Ainhoa pauses. “I don’t think we ever really stop being haunted by the people we’ve loved, Jon. Maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe carrying their memory – even when it hurts like hell – is just another way of honoring how much they meant to us. Though I bet Izar would want you to find some peace… just like I know Iñaki would want that for me.”
“I don’t know if grief of this sort, the kind you and I have, ever really goes away. I think the people afflicted from such burdens usually retire from society, lest they become eyesores to others… Quietly disappear. I have done that to a certain extent in these last twenty years. I’ve rejected women quite a few times. I was still a married man, except that the girl I never actually married died 21 years ago. Iñaki died two or three years ago, is that right? I wish I could offer you hope in that regard, tell you that it’s going to fade in the future… but it hasn’t for me. Maybe the only solution is to love someone else.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans forward slightly, her fingers instinctively finding Iñaki’s necklace as she processes Jon’s words about lasting grief.
“Three years. It’s been three years since the accident took Iñaki. And you’re right – there’s no magical timeline where grief just… disappears. But Jon, retiring from life? That’s not living – that’s just existing. And maybe… maybe that’s why we found each other yesterday. Two broken people who understand that some wounds never fully heal. When you say you’ve rejected women because you still feel married to Izar’s memory… I get it. Gods, do I get it. For the longest time, I couldn’t even look at another man without feeling like I was betraying Iñaki. But yesterday at the store… something shifted. Maybe because I saw that same haunted look in your eyes that I see in mine. Or maybe because after three years of just… surviving, some part of me is finally ready to try living again. Not to replace what we’ve lost – nothing could ever do that. But to maybe create something new alongside those memories we carry.”
I recommend you to check out the previous parts if you don’t know what this “neural narratives” thing is about. In short, I wrote in Python a system to have multi-character conversations with large language models (like Llama 3.3), in which the characters are isolated in terms of memories and bios, so no leakage to other participants. The large language models are fantastic at staying in character. Here’s the GitHub repo.
These days, as part of my worship of Dibella, I tend to use the Python app to set up erotic scenarios that usually finish when I finish. For this one, though, I wanted to create a more normal character than the larger-than-life ones that populate most other scenarios. I ended up just having a good time with her. Although it feels somewhat sacrilegious, I decided to mix her story of grief with another story of grief. Note: even though I’ve put myself as the player character, it’s an improved version. I’m not tooting my own horn here.
Pictured: Ainhoa Mendizabal, resilient single mom.
-----
The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the orderly aisles of Greenleaf Grocery. A faint whiff of freshly baked bread mingles with the sharp tang of citrus from the produce section, while the rhythmic beep of scanners at the checkout counters punctuates the air. A shopping cart rattles faintly as a customer pushes it past, its wheels squeaking against the polished linoleum floor.
Jon’s large frame moves with deliberate precision as he reaches for a chilled bottle of decaf coffee, his calloused fingers brushing against the condensation on the glass. He places it carefully in his basket, the faint clink of the bottle against the metal frame echoing softly in the aisle. As he turns, his sharp eyes catch sight of an older woman maneuvering her cart toward him. Without hesitation, he steps aside, his broad shoulders pressing against the shelf to give her ample space. The woman offers a grateful nod, but Jon’s gaze remains fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, as if the small act of courtesy is just another part of his solitary routine.
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her shopping cart’s trajectory, deliberately maneuvering closer to the tall stranger while pretending to examine items on the nearby shelf. Her fingers absently trace the edge of her cropped jacket as she steals another glance in his direction.
“Sorry, could I just… reach past you for the…” She trails off, as she realizes she hasn’t actually chosen what she’s reaching for.
Jon steps aside, leaving space for Ainhoa.
“No problem.”
She’s a woman in her maybe mid-thirties, with a body sculpted in the gym: her arms look toned even in her cropped jacket, her midriff has defined abs, and her legs are firm. Jon observes her as she stands there, apparently not knowing what to pick.
Ainhoa Mendizabal brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering nervously at her neck as she glances at the shelves, then back at the tall stranger.
“Oh, I…” Laughs softly. “I actually don’t know what I’m reaching for. Silly, right? I just… well, it’s been a while since I’ve done this. The shopping, I mean. Usually I have two little ones pulling me in different directions, making it impossible to think straight. But they’re at school now, so…” She trails off, then straightens her shoulders. “I’m Ainhoa, by the way.”
Jon smiles softly at Ainhoa as his deep gaze explores her face.
“Life would be easier if we just could approach strangers and introduce ourselves without excuses, right? My name is Jon. Jon Urueña. Nice to meet you, Ainhoa. Let me say that I wouldn’t have thought you have children.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal laughs softly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she absently touches the toned muscles of her arms.
“Oh, thank you! The kids… they keep me busy enough that sometimes I forget I don’t look like the typical mom. But you’re right about the excuses thing. I guess old habits die hard when you’ve been out of practice this long. Ureña… that’s Basque too, isn’t it? Do you live around here?”
Jon smiles kindly at Ainhoa.
“Ureña actually comes from the town of Urueña, funded during the Reconquista. It’s from mainland Spain. Nevertheless, I’m part Navarrean, part Basque, part from the east coast of Spain. Born here, though. You’ve been out of practice, you said. Out of practice on what, talking to strangers?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal shifts her weight slightly, her fingers playing with the handle of her shopping cart as a mix of vulnerability and subtle flirtation crosses her face.
“Out of practice with… well, talking to interesting people in general, I suppose. After my husband passed away, my world kind of shrank to just me and the kids. You know how it is – or maybe you don’t. But lately I’ve been trying to… expand my horizons again. Though I have to admit, I’m not usually this forward about it. Something about you just seems… familiar? Maybe it’s the Basque connection.”
Jon turns toward Ainhoa. At her mention of being a widow, a cloud passes over his eyes, and he narrows them slightly.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ainhoa. That is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anybody… and that in many ways separates humanity into those who have experienced and those who haven’t. You must be very strong, apart from your physical strength, to keep so in shape while taking care of two children after what happened to you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal touches the lean muscle of her shoulder self-consciously, her eyes meeting Jon’s with a mixture of vulnerability and quiet strength.
“Strong…” Let’s out a soft laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Though most days it feels less like strength and more like… necessity? You learn to keep moving forward because standing still isn’t an option when tiny humans are counting on you. The gym helps though – it’s become my sanctuary in a way. Twenty minutes with a barbell and suddenly the world makes sense again, you know? Even when nothing else does. But I have to ask… you seem to understand that kind of pain a little too well. The way you said that about humanity being divided…”
Jon averts his gaze for a moment. His eyes have taken a faraway look. He then returns his gaze to Ainhoa.
“I do understand that kind of pain, but I’m not… that readily available to speak about it. However, I also understand the drive to pump weights at the gym, particularly after such an experience. I have done quite a bit of that myself, not sure if anyone can tell anymore… But while lifting heavy weights, that pain that courses through the body, added to… other pain… it feels like the sole genuine language, you know? Each pang of pain speaks the truth.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal shifts closer to Jon, her toned arms tensing slightly as she grips the shopping cart handle. Her eyes soften with recognition of shared pain.
“The truth… yes, that’s exactly it. Like each rep is this… confession of sorts? All that weight you’re carrying inside somehow makes more sense when you’re lifting actual weight outside.” Soft exhale. “But you don’t have to tell me about it if you’re not ready. Sometimes just knowing someone else understands is… well, it’s enough, isn’t it? Though I have to say, those hours at the gym have definitely paid off for you too.”
Jon glances at the width of his left arm as if he hadn’t paid attention to his physique in a good while. He then returns a warm gaze to Ainhoa.
“I suppose we are kindred spirits of a sort…” He gestures toward the end of the aisle. “Do you want us to keep shopping while we talk?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal brushes her fingertips along the shelf’s edge as she walks beside Jon, her toned muscles flexing unconsciously as she reaches to examine random items.
“Yes, let’s keep walking. Though I have to admit, I’m not even sure what I came here to buy anymore.” Soft laugh. “Funny how that happens, right? You walk in with a whole list in your head and then… poof! All gone the moment something more interesting comes along. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Sometimes the best conversations happen when you’re not rushing to check items off a list.”
Jon grabs a box of cereal and places it in his shopping basket. He waits for Ainhoa to approach him as she pushes her own shopping cart, that is mostly empty.
“You seem interesting to me as well, Ainhoa. If you don’t mind the question… do you identify with people that, many years or even decades after their partners pass away, they still consider themselves married?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers trace the edge of her shopping cart as she considers Jon’s question, her expression softening with vulnerability mixed with thoughtful consideration.
“That’s… that’s a complicated question, isn’t it?” Soft exhale. “I think part of me will always feel married to Iñaki in some way – he was my children’s father, my first love, the man who helped shape who I am today. But…” Ainhoa pauses, meeting Jon’s gaze. “I also know he wouldn’t want me to stop living just because he had to. It took me a long time to accept that loving him and being open to new possibilities aren’t mutually exclusive. Though I have to admit, even saying that out loud feels… strange. Like I’m confessing something I’ve only ever whispered to myself late at night when the kids are asleep.”
Jon offers Ainhoa a deep, somber gaze from his intense eyes, then he reaches for a packet of serrano ham.
“Dealing with regret… it’s like being tied to a signpost you can’t even locate, let alone visit anymore… Sometimes I think still that it would have been better to never wake up again after… after what happened. But turns out that if you put one foot in front of the other, you keep moving along with the rest of the world. Even though it makes no sense to live when the sole person who mattered in it is gone.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal instinctively reaches out and touches Jon’s forearm, before she catches herself and withdraws her hand.
“I understand that feeling more than you know… that desperate wish to just… stop. But you said something there that really hit home – about putting one foot in front of the other. That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? Some days those steps feel impossibly heavy, like you’re wading through concrete. But then you look up and somehow you’ve made it through another day, another week…” Soft exhale. “And maybe that’s the point? Not trying to make sense of any of it, but just… keeping those feet moving. Though I have to admit, having someone who truly gets it… someone who knows that particular kind of darkness… it makes those steps feel a little less lonely, doesn’t it?”
After Ainhoa reaches to touch his forearm, Jon stops shopping, and turns to face Ainhoa. His expression remains guarded. His gaze is unafraid, but also weary.
“Leaving aside pretense, that this is about two strangers meeting for no particular reason… You’re looking for something. Is it truly a good idea for you to look for someone who is also tied to a ghost? Perhaps it would be better for your sanity and well-being to meet up, perhaps in apps or bars, someone who doesn’t know what you and I know.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans against her shopping cart, her muscled shoulders tensing slightly as she considers Jon’s words. Her fingers drum thoughtfully against the metal handle.
“Maybe you’re right about the apps and bars… they feel so artificial, don’t they? Like everyone’s wearing these masks, pretending grief doesn’t exist. But here’s the thing – I’m not looking for someone to magically fix everything or make the pain disappear. That’s not how it works, is it? What I’m looking for… what I think we both might need… is someone who understands that some ghosts stay with us, and that’s okay. Someone who knows that healing isn’t about forgetting, but about making room for new memories alongside the old ones. Though I have to admit, I didn’t exactly plan on having this conversation in the middle of the grocery store between the cereal and the serrano ham.”
Jon fixes a deep gaze that bores through Ainhoa’s eyes. His eyes hint at a deep pain that’s almost ancient.
“Ainhoa, I’ve been mourning my other half for longer than she lived. Even after all this time, the world doesn’t make sense. That’s the kind of person I am. I lift weights, I go to work, I am… entertained at times. But I don’t know how to be happy.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal steps closer to Jon, her athletic frame tensing slightly as vulnerability flickers across her features. Her fingers absently touch the necklace at her throat – the one that was Iñaki’s.
“Maybe that’s exactly why we should take this chance.” Soft exhale. “Look, I’m not saying we have to figure everything out right now between the serrano ham and breakfast cereals. But there’s something… real here. Something honest. And honestly? I’d rather spend time with someone who knows that happiness isn’t always possible than pretend with someone who thinks grief has an expiration date. Besides…” slight smile, “I’ve learned that sometimes the best things in life come from the most unexpected places. Like finding a kindred spirit in aisle three of a grocery store on a random Tuesday morning.”
Jon smiles softly, but genuinely, at the intriguing woman.
“Well, I’m done warning you for now… Truth is, Ainhoa, I find you very interesting, and it’s rare for me to get interested in anyone. You also look great. Do you want us to exchange numbers, or even go for a coffee afterwards? Who knows, maybe soon enough we’ll find ourselves heading to the gym together. It would be good to have a reliable spotter.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s face lights up with a genuine smile, her athletic frame relaxing visibly at Jon’s suggestion. Her fingers brush against her necklace briefly before dropping to adjust the strap of her gym bag.
“Now that’s the kind of warning I don’t mind hearing. And yes to both – coffee and exchanging numbers. Though I have to warn you too… I take my spotting duties very seriously. No half-hearted encouragement from me – when I say ‘one more rep,’ I mean it!" Ainhoa pulls out her phone. "Here, let me give you my number. And there’s this little café nearby that makes these amazing pintxos… unless you had somewhere else in mind?”
Jon slips his phone back into his pocket after saving Ainhoa’s number, his movements deliberate yet slightly hesitant, as if unsure of this new step. They move through the aisles together, their carts now filled with items they’ve helped each other choose, a quiet camaraderie forming between them. Outside, the midday sun bathes the cobblestone streets in golden light, and Jon instinctively reaches for Ainhoa’s grocery bags, his broad hands brushing against hers. She smiles, her toned arms flexing slightly as she resists for a moment before relenting, her playful smirk betraying her amusement at his old-fashioned gesture. They walk side by side, the rhythmic clatter of their footsteps blending with the distant hum of the city, the promise of coffee and conversation drawing them closer to the café.
Ainhoa leads Jon through the sunlit streets, her confident stride matching the rhythm of their conversation. The Blue Moon Café welcomes them with the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans and the soft hum of acoustic music. At the counter, Ainhoa gestures toward the display of pintxos, her toned arm brushing against Jon’s as they lean in to choose. They settle into a corner table, their shopping bags resting at their feet, the cozy nook offering a sense of privacy amidst the café’s gentle bustle. The warm light from the overhead fixture catches the faint sheen of sweat on Jon’s brow, a reminder of the weight he carries, both physically and emotionally.
Ainhoa Mendizabal traces her finger along the rim of her untouched coffee cup, her athletic frame leaning forward slightly as she speaks. Her dark eyes remain fixed on Jon, studying the way the café light catches the pain etched in his features.
“You know what’s funny? Before today, I probably would’ve laughed if someone told me I’d find a real connection while shopping for serrano ham. But there’s something… different about this. About you. The way you just get it – the weight of carrying those memories, the struggle to find meaning when everything’s been turned upside down. And maybe… maybe that’s exactly what makes this feel right? Not despite our broken pieces, but because of them. Though I have to warn you – if we’re going to be workout partners, you should know I take my training seriously. No slacking allowed, even on leg day!”
Jon takes a sip of his coffee as his features light up with amusement.
“A grocery shop, or a park, are better places to find genuine connection than bars or, God forbid, dating apps. Nobody should try the apps unless they only want a connection of the physical variety. In grocery shops and parks you find people just living their normal lives. And regarding our shared struggle to find meaning… One must be careful about that, because the darkness also seeks company, right? And it prefers to stay down there, in the hole… Regarding the gym…” He smirks with a hint of mischief. “I can tell that you train your lower half very thoroughly. Maybe you didn’t notice passersby staring as we headed here, but I did.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal blushes slightly at Jon’s comment about her lower body, but her athletic confidence doesn’t waver. She shifts in her seat, unconsciously straightening her already perfect posture, while her fingers play with the necklace at her throat.
“Oh, so you noticed that, did you?” Soft laugh. “Well, those squats and deadlifts don’t lie. Though I have to say, your form isn’t bad either – I caught a glimpse of those shoulders when you were reaching for the top shelf earlier. But you’re right about the apps and bars… there’s something artificial about them. This though?” Ainhoa gestures between them. “This feels more… authentic. Real. Speaking of which, how do you usually structure your training? I typically hit the gym around 6am, after dropping the kids at their grandmother’s. Though I suppose I should warn you – I tend to get pretty intense during my workouts. It’s become my therapy of sorts, you know?”
Jon takes another sip of his coffee, then puts the cup down.
“I usually also hit the gym before work. I prefer to get the important things done before… well, before the often mind-numbing routine of the job squeezes me out. It would be nice to meet up for workouts regularly. I must say, though… You’re much stronger than me, being able to juggle your two kids, the gym, and a job.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans back slightly in her chair, her athletic frame relaxing as a genuine smile plays across her features. Her fingers brush against Iñaki’s necklace before dropping to wrap around her coffee cup.
“You know what? That means more than you realize. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water, juggling everything. But the gym… it’s become my anchor. Those early morning sessions are sometimes the only moments I get that are truly mine. Though having the kids actually makes it easier in a way – they give me a reason to keep pushing forward when everything else feels impossible.” Soft laugh. “But hey, don’t sell yourself short. That kind of dedication to training before work? That takes its own kind of strength. What would you say to meeting up tomorrow morning? I usually start with compound lifts – squats, deadlifts, the works. Unless you’re one of those guys who skips leg day?”
Jon shoots Ainhoa a sideways glance, somewhat playfully.
“I must not be doing it right if you can’t tell that I never skip leg day. Let’s meet tomorrow morning then. I do mainly High-Intensity Training for bulking up, focusing on compound exercises. I need to be careful with the squats, as my right knee isn’t as strong as it used to be.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal tilts her head playfully, her athletic frame shifting forward as she reaches across the table to tap Jon’s forearm gently. Her dark eyes dance with amusement, though they retain that hint of carefully guarded vulnerability.
“Oh, you do those legs justice, trust me – I’ve got a trained eye for proper form! But I like that you’re careful with the knee. Smart training is sustainable training, that’s what I always say.” Soft laugh. “How about we meet at GazteluFit at 6:15? They’ve got that amazing squat rack in the corner – perfect lighting too, in case either of us feels inspired to add to our social media stories. Though fair warning – I tend to grunt when I’m pushing through those last few reps. Some people find it intimidating, but hey, that’s what headphones are for, right?”
When Ainhoa reaches to tap his forearm, he narrows his eyes warmly, welcoming the intimacy.
“GazteluFit, huh? I’ve gone there from time to time, I guess never at the same time as you… But I won’t wear headphones. In fact,” he smirks, “I look forward to hearing you grunt.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as she leans forward, her athletic frame emphasizing the curve of her shoulders. Her fingers toy with the necklace at her throat as a playful smirk tugs at her lips.
“Oh, so you want to hear me grunt, do you?” Ainhoa’s voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Be careful what you wish for – I’ve been known to intimidate even the burliest guys when I’m in the zone. But I like that confidence… and that you’re not afraid of a little intensity. 6:15 tomorrow then? I’ll even try to tone down my battle cries… maybe.”
* * *
The early morning sunlight streams through the large glass windows of GazteluFit, casting long, golden beams across the polished wooden floors. The rhythmic clang of weights echoes through the space, mingling with the steady hum of treadmills and the occasional grunt of exertion. A faint scent of fresh sweat and cleaning solution lingers in the air, grounding the scene in the raw energy of disciplined effort.
Jon meets Ainhoa at the entrance of the vast exercise room. He’s wearing a black tanktop that shows off his sculpted shoulders, as well as his prominent biceps and triceps.
“Good morning, Ainhoa. I’m glad we could do this.” He eyes her outfit with an unreadable expression, and doesn’t comment on it even though it feels that he would like to. “Shall we head in?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal nervously adjusts her yellow sports bra and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers briefly brush against Iñaki’s necklace before dropping to her side.
“Good morning, Jon!” She beams at him, her heart racing from more than just pre-workout anticipation. “I hope you’re ready for an intense session. I usually start with compound movements – you know, the big lifts that really get your heart pumping.” Her eyes drift briefly over his muscular arms before quickly returning to his face. “Have you worked with a training partner before?”
Jon and Ainhoa walk into the exercise room, past a few people running on treadmills.
“Yes, I was going for compound first. Do you want to do squats? I was thinking of alternating between deadlifts and squats myself; perhaps we can switch. And no, I’ve never worked with a training partner before… I’m afraid I have always been a lone wolf when it comes to weightlifting, but I can already tell that it will be more interesting with you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leads Jon to the squat racks, her hips swaying slightly as she walks. She adjusts her ponytail and touches Iñaki’s necklace before settling into position beside the weights.
“A lone wolf, hmm? Well, you’re in for a treat then – having someone to spot you and push your limits makes all the difference! And yes, let’s start with squats. I usually do five sets, increasing weight each time until failure.” She grins playfully. “Just don’t be intimidated when you see how much this mama can lift. But switching between exercises sounds perfect – keeps the blood pumping, you know? Plus it gives us a chance to catch our breath… and chat a bit more.”
Ainhoa keeps her form perfect as she pushes through her first set of squats. Jon, beside her, does deadlifts, his leg muscles and triceps rippling and bulging as he controls his breathing. He glances at the way Ainhoa’s leggings highlight her firm glutes and thighs.
“I’m right here for when you want me to spot you.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal completes her set of squats with controlled movements, her face flushed from exertion. She catches her breath and adjusts Iñaki’s necklace before responding.
“Thanks, Jon. Having someone ready to spot really helps push those limits.” She exhales deeply. “Though I have to admit, your form with those deadlifts is quite impressive. Looks like I’m not the only one who takes their training seriously! Want to switch exercises after this set? I’d love to see if your squat game matches your deadlift prowess.”
After Jon’s set of deadlifts, they switch. Jon sets the barbell on his broad shoulders. Jon is considerably taller than Ainhoa, so when she stands behind him to spot him, she feels that the barbell is quite high. As Jon lowers himself for the first repetition, Ainhoa realizes that she was standing too close to Jon when his glutes bump against her crotch, which makes her step back. Jon finishes his rep, then chuckles over his shoulder.
“Well, I guess I should be glad that our positions weren’t switched, or else this would have been much more awkward.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal lets out a nervous laugh, her hand instinctively reaching for Iñaki’s necklace as her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. She takes another step back to maintain proper spotting distance.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that! Guess I need to work on my spotting position as much as my squats.” She laughs softly. “Though you’re right – at least with our height difference, you won’t have that problem spotting me. Unless you’re planning on squatting really low!”
Jon lowers himself into a deep squat, his powerful thighs straining against the weight of the barbell as Ainhoa stands close behind, her hands hovering near his shoulders, ready to assist. Her eyes flicker between his form and the two veteran weightlifters nearby, their muscular frames and confident postures exuding an air of dominance. The man, with arms like tree trunks, casually refers to the woman as ‘Amazon,’ her towering presence and chiseled physique commanding attention. Ainhoa feels a mix of admiration and unease as the pair exchange knowing glances, their conversation laced with the kind of gym jargon that suggests they live and breathe this world. Jon, oblivious to their presence, focuses solely on his breathing and the burn in his legs, his determination a quiet counterpoint to the unspoken challenge radiating from the veterans.
(Pictured: Garazi “Amazon” Ibarrola, a larger-than-life teenage-boy-eater that I produced for when the mood strikes that way. In my system, you can just copy characters from other scenarios, and they behave naturally.)
Jon finishes his set. He straightens up, his face flushed, and breathes out. He stands aside to let Ainhoa do her next set, then he moves to her back, looming over her smaller form, to spot her if necessary.
“There you go, Ainhoa. You can go as hard as you need; I will be here to take care of the barbell if you fail.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal positions herself under the barbell, adjusting her stance while her fingers briefly touch the necklace at her throat. A light sheen of sweat makes her skin glow in the morning light filtering through the gym windows.
“Thank you, Jon. Having a strong spotter really helps push those limits!” She takes a deep breath, centering herself. “Though I have to warn you – I’ve been known to surprise people with how much I can lift.” Her voice carries a playful challenge as she grips the barbell. “Ready when you are, handsome… I mean, ready to spot!” She quickly corrects herself, cheeks flushing deeper than just from exertion.
Jon chuckles behind Ainhoa.
“I’m ready, gorgeous. Right behind you.”
Ainhoa starts her set while Jon’s big, solid mass looms behind her, his breath reaching her nape at times. She steadies herself under the barbell, her muscles tensing as she works through her set. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple as she maintains perfect form through each repetition while she breathes steadily through her squats.
“You know what’s funny? Yesterday I could barely imagine myself getting back to working out with someone else. But this…” she exhales deeply as she completes another rep, “this feels natural somehow. Though I have to admit, your compliments aren’t helping my concentration!” She lets out a breathy laugh as she pushes through another rep. “At this rate, I might need that spot sooner than I planned.”
Ainhoa’s legs tremble as she pushes to complete her set, and Jon hurries to step closer to her back and place his hands under the barbell in case he’ll need to lift it. Ainhoa finishes the set, and puts down the barbell.
“You are very strong, Ainhoa. Those thighs of yours, dare I say, could crush a watermelon at this point.”
They both notice that the woman someone had referred to as “Amazon” is standing close by, observing them like a veteran gym-goer, an expression of pride in her eyes. Her huge arms are crossed under her muscular breasts.
“Well well, what do we have here?” She laughs heartily as she flexes her biceps by instinct. “Look at you two lovebirds, getting all hot and sweaty together! Mmm, and those thighs of yours, chica…” Garazi breaks into an impish grin. “They’re coming along nicely, though they’ve got nothing on these babies yet.” She flexes her quads dramatically. “But hey, it’s always good to see fresh meat… I mean, new faces at the gym taking their training seriously. Especially when they’ve got such an… attentive spotter.” Garazi winks at Jon. “Keep it up, you two. Maybe I’ll even share some of my special training techniques… if you’re brave enough to handle them.”
Jon wipes the sweat from his forehead as he raises his eyebrows at Garazi.
“It’s a bit unfair to compare us regular folks to you, miss… Amazon, someone called you? You are, and I say it respectfully, a beast. Past a certain point of training, one needs to have been blessed my the right genes, I’m afraid.”
Garazi Ibarrola throws her head back and laughs heartily, her muscular frame rippling as she flexes her impressive biceps.
“Genes? Oh honey, you’re too kind! But let me tell you something – these magnificent muscles weren’t just handed to me on a silver platter. I worked my ass off for every inch of this physique.” She flexes dramatically. “Though I suppose being blessed with superior genetics doesn’t hurt… especially when it comes to attracting cute young things to train with. Speaking of which, you two make quite the pair! The way you spot each other, all that sexual tension… mmm, it takes me back to yesterday with my sweet boy Iker.” She winks suggestively. “But hey, don’t let me interrupt your workout. Keep pushing those limits, and maybe one day you’ll be half as strong as this Amazon warrior. Though I doubt it!”
Ainhoa Mendizabal wipes sweat from her brow and instinctively touches Iñaki’s necklace, her cheeks flushed from both the workout and the attention. She straightens her posture, highlighting her athletic frame while maintaining a respectful distance from both Jon and Garazi.
“Superior genetics?” She laughs nervously. “I’d say it’s more about determination and consistency. Though I have to admit, seeing results like yours is… inspiring.” Ainhoa glances briefly at Jon before returning her attention to Garazi. “But maybe we should focus on finishing our sets? Unless you’re offering to demonstrate some of those special techniques right now?”
Garazi excuses herself, and with a knowing smirk, she wanders off. Ainhoa and Jon switch positions. He’s about to do a set of squats while Ainhoa spots him.
“That Amazon… one imposing woman,” he says. “And a boy-eater, it seems. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for the teenagers that come here looking to start their training…”
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her stance to spot Jon properly, her hand briefly touching the necklace at her throat as she watches Garazi’s retreating form.
“Sorry about those poor teenage boys, but they’re the least of my concerns right now!” She laughs nervously. “Though I have to admit, her dedication to training is impressive, even if her… approach is a bit intense.” Ainhoa steadies herself behind Jon. “But enough about the Amazon warrior – let’s focus on your form. These legs of yours aren’t going to sculpt themselves into watermelon crushers without proper technique!”
Jon and Ainhoa move seamlessly from the squat racks to the dumbbell area, their bodies glistening with sweat under the gym’s bright lights. Jon adjusts the bench for Ainhoa, his hands lingering slightly longer than necessary as he ensures her comfort. Ainhoa, in turn, offers Jon a towel and a playful smile, her fingers brushing against his as she hands it over. The clatter of weights and the hum of machines around them fade into the background as they focus on each other, their movements synchronized and deliberate. The gym’s energy seems to amplify their connection, each rep and set bringing them closer, both physically and emotionally.
It’s almost seven in the morning. Jon rolls his shoulder. His skin, as well as the hair on his arms and legs, is sheened with sweat.
“That was one hell of a workout, Ainhoa, but I’m afraid I’m beat for today… And I also have to head to work in a while.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal wipes her brow with a towel, her fingers instinctively finding Iñaki’s necklace as she catches her breath. Her cheeks remain flushed from the intensity of their shared workout.
“Already?” She laughs softly. “And here I was just getting warmed up! But you’re right, it’s been quite the session. I haven’t pushed myself like this in… well, longer than I care to admit.” Ainhoa pauses, gathering courage. “Listen, Jon… I was thinking maybe we could make this a regular thing? Same time tomorrow? I mean, if you’re not too sore from today’s beating!” She touches her necklace nervously. “Having a reliable training partner really does make all the difference.”
Jon places a warm, strong hand on Ainhoa’s sweaty shoulder, her fibers solid against his palm.
“Sure, we can make these sessions a regular thing, but don’t hesitate to break it off if there’s some trouble with your kids. And you know, we could also meet outside of the gym.” His eyes are warm and honest as he looks down into hers. “No need to keep the charade that we aren’t interested in each other.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers instinctively reach for Iñaki’s necklace as her breath catches. Her cheeks flush deeper, not entirely from the workout, as she meets Jon’s intense gaze.
“Outside the gym? I… yes, you’re right. There’s no point pretending this is just about proper form and spotting techniques, is there?” Ainhoa takes a steadying breath. “Though I have to warn you – dating a widow with two kids isn’t exactly what most men sign up for. But if you’re sure… maybe we could grab coffee after tomorrow’s session? That is, assuming you survive another round with these watermelon crushers in training!”
Jon pulls back his hand from Ainhoa’s shoulder, but he keeps holding her gaze with an intimate, warm look in his eyes.
“Until we met yesterday, I wouldn’t have guessed that I would look forward to hanging out with another person again… But I’m interested in you, Ainhoa, and I want to get to know you more. I’m willing to go ahead step by step.” They head to the exercise room’s exit. “After we hit our respective showers, do you want me to drive you somewhere? I have to head to the hospital, where I work. I’m not a doctor, I’m afraid, but a programmer.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal adjusts her gym bag on her shoulder, her fingers absently playing with Iñaki’s necklace as a mix of nervousness and excitement flickers across her face.
“A programmer?” She laughs softly. “Well, that explains the intensity in your eyes when you’re counting reps! And yes, a ride would be… nice. I need to head home to get the kids ready for school anyway. Though I should warn you – my car chatter tends to bounce between workout techniques and embarrassing mom stories. But since you’re willing to risk it…” Ainhoa pauses, gathering courage. “You know, Jon, what you said about looking forward to spending time with someone again? I feel the same way. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… comfortable with anyone. Even if it does make me nervous as hell!”
The gym’s clamor fades behind them as Jon and Ainhoa step into the crisp morning air, their damp hair and fresh scents mingling with the salty breeze. Jon opens the door of his sleek BMW for her, his hand lingering on the frame as she slides into the passenger seat, her fingers brushing against Iñaki’s necklace. The car hums to life, and they glide through the winding streets of Donostia, the city’s hills rising like silent sentinels around them. Ainhoa directs him with quiet confidence, her voice soft but steady, as the road climbs higher, offering glimpses of the bay sparkling in the distance. The silence between them is comfortable yet charged, a shared understanding of the unspoken possibilities that lie ahead.
As Jon drives, he glances at Ainhoa, seated beside him on the passenger seat, wearing her form-fitting yellow sports bra and her leggings.
“I thought you would tell me mom stories. What are your kids names, if you don’t mind me knowing?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers trace the outline of Iñaki’s necklace as she settles into the passenger seat, her athletic frame relaxing slightly despite her nervous energy.
“Oh, my little warriors?” Soft laugh. “Itziar is my eldest – she’s nine going on thirty, I swear! Takes after her father with how stubborn she can be. And then there’s Julen, my seven-year-old tornado. He’s…” touches necklace, “he’s got his father’s smile, you know? Both of them are handling everything better than I could’ve hoped, though some days are harder than others. But they’re resilient, just like their mama had to learn to be.” Ainhoa pauses “What about you? I mean, I know you work at the hospital as a programmer, but what exactly do you do there? Must be quite different from debugging code at a regular tech company.”
Jon smiles warmly at Ainhoa, but not without a hint of deep pain in his eyes.
“Your kids sound healthy and well-adjusted. I’m really sorry that they had to go through… what nobody should experience. I can’t imagine losing a father at that age.” He keeps driving for a few moments in silence. “At work? I program systems to figure out how much the resources of the hospital are being used, to properly reorganize medical schedules, what professionals gets assigned where, and such things. We also program the intranet systems so doctors and nurses can input their schedules. Boring stuff, but at least it’s actually necessary.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s fingers drift to her necklace as she processes Jon’s words about his work, her eyes softening at the mention of her children.
“Necessary? Jon, what you do helps save lives, even if indirectly. A hospital is like… well, like a really complicated gym, you know? Everything has to flow just right or the whole system falls apart. And speaking of systems…” Ainhoa laughs softly. “I should probably mention that my morning routine with the kids is pretty systematic too. I’ll need to be home by 7:30 to make sure Itziar doesn’t try convincing Julen that cookies count as breakfast again. Though between you and me? Some mornings I’m tempted to just let her win that argument!” She pauses, touching necklace. “It means a lot, what you said about the kids. About understanding what they’ve been through. Most people just… they don’t know how to approach that part of our lives.”
“Did the other guys you dated after… well, after your terrible loss… did those guys bail on you when they found out you have kids?”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s hand tightens around Iñaki’s necklace as she looks out the car window, a mix of vulnerability and determination crossing her face.
“Actually… you’re the first since Iñaki.” Nervous laugh. “I mean, there have been a few who showed interest, but I never… I couldn’t… It just didn’t feel right, you know? Like I was betraying his memory somehow. Plus, the thought of introducing someone new to the kids – that terrified me more than any weight I’ve ever lifted. But yesterday at the store, when I saw you… Something felt different. Maybe it’s because you understand loss in a way most people don’t. I can see it in your eyes, Jon. That same shadow I see in mine when I look in the mirror some mornings.”
Jon continues driving in silence, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as his eyes seem both to darken and get sadder, perhaps weighing if he should bring up something from his depths. When he speaks, it sounds as if he’s dragging words out of himself.
“Her name was Izar Lizarraga. My best friend since we were twelve. We dated throughout our teens. She dreamed of becoming a motocross rider. One night she came to my parents’ home in the rain. Her father had slapped her hard because she had dropped out of school and only cared about training to become a professional rider. That night we promised each other that we would run away from home and travel the breadth of Spain. After we parted ways, Izar, instead of heading home, took to the highway. She crashed and died.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal’s hand drops from her necklace as she turns sharply toward Jon, her eyes widening with recognition of shared pain. Her voice softens to barely above a whisper.
“Oh, Jon… I…” Deep breath. “That kind of loss – losing someone so young, so full of dreams – it changes you forever, doesn’t it? Makes you question everything. I can’t imagine carrying that pain since you were teenagers. With Iñaki, at least we had years together, built a life, had our children… but to lose Izar right at the beginning of your journey together? Sometimes I wonder if that’s worse somehow – losing all those possible futures before they even had a chance to happen. Did you… did you ever let yourself imagine what that trip across Spain might have been like?”
Jon keeps his heavy gaze fixed on the road ahead. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“If I let myself imagine what that trip might have been like? I dream about her almost nightly. I have tried to forget her, but it’s like I’m actually haunted. It’s been 21 years, longer than she lived. And there’s not a single day that I don’t wish I could turn back time and make her get off her motorcycle instead of driving away to her death.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal gently places her hand on Jon’s forearm, her touch light but steady, before withdrawing it respectfully.
“Twenty-one years… that’s longer than some people get to live at all. And yet here you are, still carrying her with you.” Soft exhale. “You know what the hardest part is? Those dreams – they never really stop coming, do they? With Iñaki, sometimes I wake up thinking he’s just in the other room, or that I can still smell his cologne on his pillow. But your dreams of Izar… they must be different. All those ‘what-ifs’ packed into them.” Ainhoa pauses. “I don’t think we ever really stop being haunted by the people we’ve loved, Jon. Maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe carrying their memory – even when it hurts like hell – is just another way of honoring how much they meant to us. Though I bet Izar would want you to find some peace… just like I know Iñaki would want that for me.”
“I don’t know if grief of this sort, the kind you and I have, ever really goes away. I think the people afflicted from such burdens usually retire from society, lest they become eyesores to others… Quietly disappear. I have done that to a certain extent in these last twenty years. I’ve rejected women quite a few times. I was still a married man, except that the girl I never actually married died 21 years ago. Iñaki died two or three years ago, is that right? I wish I could offer you hope in that regard, tell you that it’s going to fade in the future… but it hasn’t for me. Maybe the only solution is to love someone else.”
Ainhoa Mendizabal leans forward slightly, her fingers instinctively finding Iñaki’s necklace as she processes Jon’s words about lasting grief.
“Three years. It’s been three years since the accident took Iñaki. And you’re right – there’s no magical timeline where grief just… disappears. But Jon, retiring from life? That’s not living – that’s just existing. And maybe… maybe that’s why we found each other yesterday. Two broken people who understand that some wounds never fully heal. When you say you’ve rejected women because you still feel married to Izar’s memory… I get it. Gods, do I get it. For the longest time, I couldn’t even look at another man without feeling like I was betraying Iñaki. But yesterday at the store… something shifted. Maybe because I saw that same haunted look in your eyes that I see in mine. Or maybe because after three years of just… surviving, some part of me is finally ready to try living again. Not to replace what we’ve lost – nothing could ever do that. But to maybe create something new alongside those memories we carry.”
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