Chapter Text
In the past three and a half years—ever since they were released by the government—there were many days Sergio could consider the happiest days of his life. One of the most prominent ones were the day Raquel, once more, accepted his proposal and then the one she officially became his wife.
The moment he saw her walking down the aisle… The only other moment when he’d been so overwhelmed by emotions, so touched, so grateful, aside from the day Raquel had arrived on Palawan and announced she was there to stay, was probably when he’d received the confirmation that she was alive. A shiver from the anguish from those agonising moments when he’d believed her to be gone went down his spine. He remembered a thought that had crossed his mind then: that now that Raquel was brutally taken from him, even ninety tons of gold won’t be able to fill the hole she left behind. He also remembered the relief that had hit him after he’d left Antoñanzas’ house—the love of his life was alive, and life suddenly felt worth living again. He wanted to live and not just to stay alive long enough, so that he could conclude the heist. He’d later read that love is when two people inspire each other to truly appreciate enduring day after day, in a way that makes you in awe of the simplicity of persisting.
He felt this appreciation, this thirst for life, while he watched Raquel in her wedding dress, smiling through the tears of happiness. He wanted her to feel this joyous for the rest of her days. He’d give her a good life, he’d cherish her every day, and he’d do anything for her to not regret crossing an ocean for a thief.
While he was making his speech, Raquel looked just as happy as he felt.
Afterwards, he thought there was no way her could ever experience more felicity than in that moment. He felt as high on ecstasy as any sober person could—for him, love was the best kind of drug, he didn’t need any more stimulants. Truly, the warmth that burst out his insides, the way his breath caught, the way his eyes filled with tears from all the love that was flowing down his veins, were better than any narcotics. Nothing could beat the exhilaration, the euphoria, of finally taking Raquel as his wife.
And then the morning came, and something surprising happened. After Raquel called on Paula to put the water for coffee “for her and grandma” (as Sergio had already had his morning coffee) on, the girl asked Sergio if he wanted another cup as well. Except she didn’t call him by his name this time—instead, she called him “dad.”
A breath died on his lips—he froze with his mouth slightly ajar, an expression of utter shock. Sergio stared into the distance, his eyes blurry with tears, more flabbergasted than ever, repeating the word in his head like mantra, elated at one of his most awaited dreams coming true. Only when Raquel nudged him to come back to reality, did he answer that he would like a cup, indeed.
He then turned to his wife, mouthing “what’s just happened” to her.
“Just enjoy it…” Raquel whispered to him, embracing him tenderly. She didn’t look an ounce as surprised as he was. And, oh, while he really wanted to just enjoy this moment, he had a lot of questions.
“Did you know she was going to do this?”
“I suspected she could, yeah.” She smiled, as if reminiscing. “Yesterday, before the ceremony, she told me she sometimes wishes you were her dad, and later, right before she went to bed, she said she was going to try to use this word, see how it feels on her mouth. I think she wants to, but it still may be weird for her, as she still misses Alberto. And it’s never easy for a child to allow anyone to fully take a father’s place, so please, try not to take it to yourself if it’s a one-time thing for now.”
Sergio nodded, secretly wishing that being called “dad” each time Paula was to refer to him would now become his new normalcy.
That didn’t happen for a few more months, though. There were instances in which Paula would address Raquel and him as her “parents”, or even “mom and dad”—which obviously always brought tears into his eyes, just like a wide, beaming smile and a small chuckle of euphoria—with increasing recurrence, and instances of her saying something like “Sergio is a great dad to me”—which triggered even stronger reaction from him—but for a while she didn’t refer directly to him by anything but his name.
Until it finally happened again. On the day of her eleventh birthday, as she unpacked a present from him—a luxury chess set and book with different openings and strategies, since Paula, under Sergio’s patient guidance and teaching, was starting to get into playing as well—she threw herself at him, whispering:
“Thanks, dad.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled, hugging her tighter, his eyes moist, his sight blurry. “I hope in no time you’ll become the best in the house.”
Ever since then Paula completely dropped using his name and accustomed herself to calling him “dad” to the point it sounded so natural on her mouth that he could forget he’d known her for just a third of her life—or that he wasn’t really her birth father. Except, as Paula proclaimed herself, he was a father to her in all the ways that truly mattered.
She explained to Raquel her reasons behind overcoming her hesitations about calling Sergio “dad” to his face—reasons that sounded almost too familiar to him, who had once experienced the same type of blockade, as he’d struggled to reaffirm his love to Raquel—while the two of them were sitting together on the porch, watching the sunset, unaware of Sergio’s presence. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but once he started listening to their conversation, he was incapable of stopping himself.
Paula said that it felt weird to her, to say it out loud, because it brought too many memories of Alberto. The word “dad” had become tainted, associated with someone who turned out to be a bad person. The first time she’d called Sergio that had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and so she decided to get acclimated with it again by saying it in her head enough times and stripping it of painful connotations, before trying again. She didn’t plan to deliberately use it as a reaction to receiving a birthday gift, it just slipped spontaneously, because in that moment it felt right. And besides, in the months since the first attempt she understood better what a “dad” truly was. “Dad” was someone who cared deeply for her, who nurtured her and taught her important life lessons, someone who not just listened to her, but heard her and understood her struggles, someone who was proud to see her learn and grow as a person. And, to Paula, Sergio was all that. Not Alberto. And after all this time, she was finally ready to fully embrace this thought and let Sergio know that she accepted him into her heart; into the place that for the longest time was closed.
Sergio’s heart soared, as he was listening to his daughter opening up like that. He cherished this moment every day since.
For the next year there were multiple days he wanted to cherish with the same intensity: the day they went to Paris, the day they flew the balloon in Queenstown to admire New Zealand from high up, the day they became godparents to newborn Verona, second child of Denver and Stockholm, the day they decided when to hold their second wedding ceremony and started necessary preparations to organise a proper party.
They settled on late October—the fifth anniversary of Raquel’s arrival on Palawan—and since that moment Sergio kept thinking about making everything perfect, which included meticulous planning, making an accomplice out of his daughter, and doing his best to succeed in something that had once seemed beyond his capabilities: learning how to dance.
Especially doing so in less than half a year.
Although he’d accomplished the impossible on more than one occasion—had stolen almost a billion euros, the national gold reserve and a heart of a certain police inspector, whom he had miraculously taken as his wife—acquiring physical coordination was above his skills. That, however, didn’t matter he wouldn’t try. He’d promised himself to step out of his comfort zone and mend himself into the man who was worthy of Raquel’s love, and he didn’t intend to rest on his laurels only because she had already married him. And so, since most of Covid-19 restrictions were lifted in the beginning of March, he decided to sign himself and Paula, who once again became his accomplice in his plans to surprise Raquel, to a dance class. The official version was that it was only Paula who was to attend the course (she even asked her friends to enrol as well), and Sergio was to take her and pick her up three times a week, so that Raquel had more time to work on their project. In reality, Sergio trained there as well, wanting to be able to have a proper first dance on their wedding day.
Hiding his new abilities proved to be rather difficult, as ever since Portugal, he and Raquel had taken to dancing in their free time—either in the kitchen while they waited for dinner to finish cooking or on their terrace in the late evening hours after sharing a glass of wine. Sergio had realised that Raquel rather enjoyed those moments when he awkwardly (though only at first) accompanied her in moving to the rhythm of their favourite tunes playing from the speaker, so he had started asking her to dance from time to time, just to see her happy. After a while of attending dance classes, he started feeling more comfortable in his moves and needed to conceal it around Raquel, in order to not spoil the surprise. It felt weird, to hide anything from her again, even if it seemed so inconsequential. Fortunately, if Raquel noticed that his movements were now unusually stiff—considering he’d loosen up quite some time ago and had actually started feeling less awkward whenever they were whirling around—she didn’t say anything.
(Unlike Paula, who used every opportunity to make fun of his attempts at acting inconspicuous. Though she was the only one who could see the fakeness behind the clumsiness of his moves, as she also greatly enjoyed the dance lessons and learnt from there a great deal of things. He couldn’t be happier that his daughter was on board with his plans and didn’t even hesitate when he asked her how she would feel about asking her mom to sign her up to a ballroom dance class. After Paula asked her friends to join with her, she used the argument that “everyone was enrolling,” while mentioning wanting to attend another extra-curricular classes, which sounded pretty damn convincing, and a week later, they all started attending. This was another wonderful way for them to bond.)
Four months of practising later, Sergio was as good a dancer as anyone with his lack of coordination could possibly turn out to be. And he was also confident that everything would work out in his favour during the ceremony.
The day of their nuptials was expectedly busy and chaotic with all the guests and things that were left yet to do. Sergio, however, felt unusually calm, even if everything was the absolute opposite of what he felt comfortable around. He was helping around as best he could, for which he was scolded by literally everyone, starting with his mother-in-law, shouting at him to stop relieving her of her tasks, and ending with Martin, who was laughing at him for not acting like the typical groom on his wedding day.
“Hell only knows, Andres would’ve been drunk as a lord in your position!” he joked, to which Sergio only rolled his eyes. His brother wasn’t a person he was willing to take as an example, and certainly not on an occasion like this.
“Well, I’m not him, and if you’re not going to start getting ready, then I would really appreciate it if you helped a little bit.”
Martin mumbled something under his nose but assisted with the finishing touches without too much fuss.
After that, Sergio finally decided to take a moment for himself. He took out his phone and dialled Raquel’s number, missing her already, even though they hadn’t seen each other for maybe a few hours at most—the bridesmaids decided that the groom seeing his bride before the ceremony was bad luck, so they prohibited him from entering the bedroom, in which Stockholm and Manila were getting Raquel ready.
“Cariño?” Raquel answered the call almost immediately.
“Good morning to you, Inspectora,” he began, using the cold tone of the Professor, despite having a huge smile on his face. “It’s been a while since our last contact, and I want to apologise for disturbing you. But I’m calling you, because I have a very important question to ask you.”
“And what kind of question is that, Professor?”
“What are you wearing?”
He heard a chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Professor, remember that we’re here, too!” he heard Manila’s voice.
“Oh, come on, let them have this,” Stockholm berated the other woman with a half-suppressed laugh.
For a moment no one said anything, but he heard something that suggested to him that Raquel might’ve picked up the phone and turned the speaker off.
“You’re curious about what I’m wearing? I am wearing a white wedding dress. I am getting married today, you see… ”
“Ah! You must be really happy, then.”
“You have no idea.”
“Tell me about this man you you’re marrying. What is he like?”
“Why? You want to know what kind of men I’m into? You think you’d have a chance?”
“No, I’m not suggesting that.” He would never do so, even in his cockiest, most confident moments. He still marvelled at how lucky he’d been that a woman like her really wanted a man like him. “Like I told you—if you were to run into me in a bar, you wouldn’t pay too much attention to me.” He could almost hear her eyes rolling. “I’m simply trying to feed my curiosity, get to know you better.”
“Well… He is kind, caring, understanding, genuine and genuinely gentle, and a more affectionate than he lets on. He’s very romantic, even if he doesn’t look it at the first glance. He is also extremely intelligent… and devilishly handsome.”
He felt his cheeks burning.
“He sounds like a great guy.”
“Oh, he is. He gets me in a way no one else does. It’s uncanny, really, the way we sometimes act as if we share a brain.”
He smiled to himself, because they really did. While it had seemed that they were almost constantly at each other’s throats during the heist, unable to cooperate, in their day-to-day life they functioned like clockwork, even more so since the dust had settled after their return to Palawan—and to normalcy that their house on the island brought.
“We laugh at the same dumb jokes, the same witty remarks… I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that with anyone. No one could ever cheer me up the way he can. And I love that about him.”
Sergio truly prided himself on his ability to make her laugh. Raquel Murillo wasn’t the type of person who giggled much, but he somehow cracked the way to get this exact reaction out of her—and he used it often, absolutely adoring her smile and light-hearted titter. And knowing it’s one of the things she loved most about him, to the point she brought it out in this role-play banter, made his once ice-cold heart melt.
“Tell me one more thing: what do you love most about him?”
There was a moment of silence inside his phone.
“Aside for the way he makes me laugh? I think that will be his good heart. He hears me, as in truly listens and understands me. And he’s just there for me when I need someone to turn to, to help me keep my demons at bay. He’s the best partner I could ever dream of.”
He fought the tears away.
“And you’re the best partner too, Raquel,” he whispered, overwhelmed with emotions. And it wasn’t even the ceremony itself, goddamit!
“No, don’t do that, Sergio! You’re ruining the fun. And my make-up. Julia’s going to be pissed.”
He looked away, embarrassed, even though there was no one around.
“I’m sorry. Should I keep up the charade?”
“Just for a little while longer. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I missed this kind of talks.”
“Did you, Inspectora?” he immediately picked up where he left. “I must be on your mind quite often then. I hope your soon-to-be-husband isn’t bothered by the fact that there’s another man you’re thinking about.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Professor. I imagine I am on your mind way more often that you are on mine—you’re the one who called me after all. You must’ve missed me.”
“I did,” he admitted, dropping the façade for the shortest second. “And you have me here—you are on my mind all the time. It’s difficult to forget someone so exceptional. You’re a truly remarkable woman.”
“You’ve turned into a quite a flirt. I must remind you, however, that your tricks and compliments won’t work on me.”
“Because of the wedding. Of course. I will not waste any more of your time, then. I’m going to hang up now.”
“Before you do… Sergio, I’m almost ready, you can start gathering everyone.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Sergio pressed the red button on his screen and smiled.
He then proceeded to quickly change into his suit—a new one, as both he and Raquel were pressured to acquire new set of garments for their second ceremony—and after he finished readying himself, he rushed the guests to start gathering on the pier. The property they rented for the occasion had tons of space to hold a ceremony like theirs: a wooden platform on the beach that was to become their dance floor, a long bridge they turned into an aisle, decorating it with candles, flowers and ribbons, and a landing space with a wedding arch, one that was more ornated and more splendorous than their previous one. When they had first started planning, Sergio had been afraid that it was all too much. Despite the riches in their bank accounts, they remained rather humble, preferring to use their wealth to better the world around them—by fighting injustice, donating to shelters, financing the hospitals—instead of superfluous luxuries, and they had actually needed a lot of convincing to pick a different location and have someone take care of all the details, instead of organising everything back home. But now that Sergio was looking at the final effect of hiring a professional to organise the wedding, he couldn’t be more content. Everything was perfect, even more so than he’d envisioned.
Or as perfect as it could be without those few people they’d lost.
He wished they were all here today. He wished Oslo stood there, next to Helsinki, smiling at them and cheering them up; he wished Moscow graced them with a song, perhaps from one of his albums he had wanted to record. He visualised his brother next to him, making unfunny jokes in the time they waited for Raquel to join them, and then making a best man speech that was even more unfunny, but that somehow cracked them all up. He imagined Nairobi having fun at his expense when he’d called Raquel and later, too, reminding everyone of that one time he’d rejected her advances under the “no personal relationships” pretence. And, at last, he thought of Tokyo. She would’ve probably argued with Martin for the position of the celebrant—maybe she would’ve even stormed into his and Raquel’s bedroom demanding to be allowed to officiate the wedding at some ungodly hour of the night. Sergio would’ve probably let her, grateful that the woman who had once treated Raquel with reserve, with coldness, warmed up to her.
He would give a lot to have them all among the guests. And even though he’d embraced the perhaps selfish thought that despite the tragedies, the losses, he was glad that Raquel and he had survived the dangers, reunited with their family and got to marry once already, the pain and guilt stung in his heart, as he thought of those five, brave people, who with their sacrifices had made this day possible.
“He would’ve been proud of you, you know?” Martin’s voice brought Sergio back. “Andres.”
Sergio nodded. He knew that his brother would’ve been exhilarated to see him be happily in love with a wonderful woman who was fearless, resilient, headstrong, intelligent and mesmerizingly beautiful, a perfect match for him all and through, finally standing at the altar.
“He would never let you see the end of his comments about how he was right all along that you would eventually falter and get yourself a wife. And he would never let you forget about that time that you caught the bouquet at his wedding to Tatiana.”
As if Sergio could ever forget. He had mixed feelings about this particular memory. For years he hadn’t thought about it at all—there had been nothing special about his brother’s fifth wedding, maybe besides the fact that it had been Andres’s last, and that realisation had always left a bitter taste in Sergio’s mouth. The first time that this memory had crossed his mind had been the night after Andres’s death, most possibly as its effect. Sergio remembered waking up with a lump in his throat, ruminating about his brother… and, for reasons he’d barely understood back then, about Raquel, who even though had still been alive, Sergio had been missing all the same. And it hadn’t been the only time he’d found himself missing her and remembering that peculiar event. After her fake execution, when he’d broken down at that field he’d been thinking about the bouquet in his hands, cursing the universe for taking his love away from him before he could marry her. The flowers weren’t even that similar to the ones Tatiana had tossed into the air, but they reminded him of that moment nonetheless—and of the opportunity that he’d believed to have slipped through his fingers. Because during those agonising hours every little thing reminded him of Raquel; of losing her and not being able to share those tiny joys with her any more
But it was all in the past now. Raquel was still here—and look, she’s walking out of the house this very moment, looking as breathtaking and stunning as ever; her smile radiant, her posture confident, and her dress hugging her lovely curves complimentarily—and she was still his; belonging not to him in a possessive, controlling and dominating way, but with him, as his transcendental companion, his better half, his soulmate.
As Raquel stepped onto the pier, the musicians they hired, the violinist and the pianist, started playing a sublime, hopeful and emotional piece of classical music. Paula walked a few steps ahead, once more a flower girl, throwing petals from the bouquets Sergio had been gifting his wife ever since the first ceremony, as he’d promised. With ease he’d fulfilled the vow of buying twice as many flowers, and they served as decoration today.
Before Sergio could stop himself, he rushed towards Raquel. He met her halfway through the bridge and immediately lifted her up, and whirled her around, while their lips clashed in a passionate kiss.
“You’re making a scene,” she mumbled into his mouth, as he put her back onto the wooden planks.
“It’s our big day, I am allowed to make a scene.”
“Who are you and what did you do to the guy who flinched every time I wanted to kiss him when his gang was around?”
Before Raquel, Sergio hadn’t been a man for public display of affection, and at the monastery he’d tried to keep their private life, well, as private as possible, to Raquel’s great annoyance. Only when their partnership had hung by a thread, he’d realised how wrong he’d been to take her for granted and to put his authority as the Professor above his need for her, and not show her enough what she really meant to him. He’d promised to himself then that he would undo his mistakes and would do everything to not repeat them again.
“Long gone, I’m afraid. But I hope you’re not complaining.”
Instead of answering, she just pecked his lips with hers.
“Shall we?”
Hand in hand, they advanced towards the wedding arch, where Martin awaited them with an amused smirk. He proceeded to begin his speech, which went right by Sergio, who was listening with only one ear, too occupied with gazing into Raquel’s eyes that turned gold by the sunrays of the midday. Sergio answered “I do,” when he was asked to, and repeated the simplistic vows that Martin recited to honour tradition, but he was impatient to get through this part of the ceremony and move on to hearing Raquel’s speech, sharing his own and then finally asking his wife to dance with him.
“May I go first?” Raquel asked as soon as Martin finished talking.
“Of course, go ahead.” Sergio was going to ask her if she wanted to, anyway.
Raquel took a deep breath.
“My dearest. I want to begin by saying how eternally grateful I am for you. I want to thank you for everything, for even the tiniest kindness you’ve shown me, for being by my side in my worse moments and supporting me in my battles. It is thanks to you that I’ve found my old spark again, that I rebuilt myself, first after my failed marriage, a life full of struggles and a job that had broken my spirit, then after the hell we both went through during the Bank of Spain heist. It wasn’t easy, picking up the pieces and fixing what was left of me, so I could start living again, but you were there for me, helping me out, holding me close whenever I was having a panic attack, enduring my bad temper, short patience and endless frustration.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. Of course I was there for you…”
“Yes, I do, Sergio. You deserve to know the scope of my appreciation. You deserve to know how much I recognise what you did for me, and how much I love you for it. And how much I love you overall.”
But he did know. How could he not?
“I love your kindness, your attentiveness, your persistence. I meant what I told you over the phone—you’re the best partner I could ever dream of. So let me use this chance to tell you all that.”
Sergio just smiled, faltering under the intensity of her glance. He wouldn’t keep arguing with her now.
“So, to continue my speech that you brutally interrupted…” They both chuckled. “I want to thank you for making us work. For being able to relinquish the constant need for control and letting me in. For handing me the helm when it truly mattered—when I needed it to learn to trust again. You know, I was angry with you during the heist for being so overly controlling, but after a while, a long while, I realised that while you fought so hard to be the one with the final say when we were sitting in that van together, when it came to the important moments of our relationship, you let me call the shots. You returned my nine-millimetre back in the house in Toledo, you let me go in your hangar, you relentlessly waited for me at the coordinates, and even though you didn’t know for certain why I hadn’t come, you never imposed on me. You didn’t fight me when I threw you out of the house that once time, and you didn’t press me about any of my decisions regarding getting married again, back when I had been opposed to the idea, before the heist that caused us to nearly lose each other and caused me to change my mind, or regarding expanding our family. Time and time again you put your fate in my hands and accepted the outcome, even at the cost of the possibility of getting hurt. It was your relentless pacifism, your trust in me and in the fact that we were never not meant to be, that gave us a chance at this wonderful life together. That led us to this moment.”
Raquel took another breath.
“So, once more, thank you for everything. I love you—for better, for worse, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health; as long as the memory of us lives on.”
She placed his hand onto her chest. He could feel her heart pounding beneath his palm, and he understood what Raquel was trying to tell him—her heart was beating for him.
He swallowed hard, trying not to cry.
“Raquel,” he finally began, having managed to compose himself.
At the beginning of their relationship Sergio had used different terms of endearment, trying to see which ones she liked, and which she hated. Sunshine had been one of those she had particularly detested, though Sergio wouldn’t deny that seeing her face after he’d tried to use it hadn’t been absolutely adorable. After numerous attempts of finding the perfect affectionate nickname, he’d realised that to him, her name meant all those things and more. To him, her name was a term of endearment. And while he still sometimes called her my love or my life, or most importantly my wife, which was his other favourite, nothing held the same weight as simple Raquel.
“It is the greatest honour of my life to see you stand here with me…” His voice trembled. It’s not like he had a stage fright—though even a thought of making a grand, profound speech like this in front of so many people two years ago would’ve turned him into a quivering mess of anxiety—he was simply too overcome with emotion to keep his composure intact.
“…And to get to have this wondrous life with you, to spend my mornings with you and to hold you each night, to listen to you as you share as much or as little as you want.” With each voice his voice became steadier, more confident. “Spending time with you, talking endlessly, as we either tell each other stories or exchange views and observations, is the greatest pleasure fate could provide me. I know I’m repeating myself, but I will never stop marvelling about how immense of a change you brought into my life. I had spent years as a recluse, preparing myself for the life of silence and routine—and I had been fine with that, as I hadn’t known the alternative. So, when you came into my life, and with you the unpredictability, the wonderful sounds of joy, the glorious laughter, I realised I would never be able to go back. When love has finally been bestowed upon me, I couldn’t get enough of the delightful intensity of its taste. I got greedy for the sight of you and to have you near me at all times. I might actually be the greediest man on earth. Because no man has ever loved a woman more than I love you. I love you more than any cause, any ambition. And I can never have enough of you.”
He took a deep breath.
“I want to thank you as well. Thank you for bringing warmth into my life, for staying with me despite my endless fuckups, for allowing me to mend myself into a man that is worthy of your affection. Thank you for putting up with me, my quirks and my stubbornness. Thank you for loving me for who I am, despite everything. Thank you for making me, my heart and my life complete.”
She was the one who had turned him into a better person. While Sergio had put a lot of work and effort into learning from his past mistakes and maintaining new habits, Raquel had been the reason why he’d done it all in the first place.
“You are the best person I’ve ever known, Raquel. And I’ll keep trying to measure up, to prove to you every single day for the rest of our lives—for better, for worse, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health—how much I love you.”
Raquel sobbed and pulled him close to seal this moment with a deep kiss.
“I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss,” Sergio heard Martin’s annoyed voice. In response, he only deepened the kiss further, to mess with his friend even more.
The guests started cheering and applauding and whistling in enthusiasm. Somebody—probably Denver—shouted viva el amor! And soon enough, their friends surrounded them and joined the embrace, turning the small moment that he’d wanted to share with his wife into a group hug. But he wasn’t complaining; he was way too happy to do so.
Afterwards, they all moved onto the terrace to begin the wedding reception. As the guests started taking their seats, Sergio pulled surprised Raquel onto the dance floor with a big smile and “may I have this dance?” uttered in a flirtatious tone.
“The first dance?” Raquel raised her brows. “But you don’t dance when there are people around.”
“For you, I will.”
Raquel giggled.
Sergio gave a signal to the musicians to start playing. It was The Entertainer, the song he’d played for her in his fake warehouse almost exactly six years ago. Back then none of them had known where their story would go, if a one-night stand could lead them into something more serious.
“I’m going to ask you to follow my lead,” Sergio chuckled, knowing how much she hated being told what to do. But he also knew her enough to be sure that even if she was going to roll her eyes or make a snarky comment, she wouldn’t mind it this time.
Raquel took his hand and did just that. They swayed swiftly through the dance floor, whirling and twirling with an almost trained coordination. They still giggled, beaming bright smiles at each other and maintaining eye contact so intense that it made him shiver. Oh god, how much he wanted to kiss her again…
In the corner of his eye, he saw Martin choking on his drink at the sight. Jakov and Santiago seemed just as stunned, and Rio, who was the only one who hadn’t seen him dancing back in Florence, was pointing a finger in the dance floor’s direction, trying to bring the others’ attention.
“So that’s what you’ve been up to those three times per week when you were taking Paula to dance classes?” Raquel guessed.
“I wanted this day to be special.”
“Oh, cariño, it already was…”
He lifted her in his arms and spun her around, and she squealed in surprise mixed with joy.
They continued this dance. They felt as if they were the only two people in the world, and for a moment that Raquel was the only one he had his eyes on, Sergio could believe it too. He felt unbelievably at ease, despite doing something out of his comfort zone, and not just because he was trained well and had faith in his newly acquired skills, but rather because he was doing this with Raquel.
“Can I say something cheesy?” he prompted.
“Of course you can, you don’t have to ask me that.”
He beamed at her.
“All I’ve ever wanted is here, with you in my arms. You’re the refuge I didn’t know I were seeking, my solace, my sanctuary. You’re my home, Raquel.”
The term “the love of his life” came to his mind as well, but that term didn’t convey well enough what he was feeling, because Raquel was so much more than that. She was the other half of his soul, a part of him, the best one, actually; she was his light, his purpose. Their bond transcended human understanding—because how could he explain the way he recognised her presence even when she wasn’t near, as if there really was an invisible string joining their cores, or how he would know her blind, simply by the sound of her breathing, and the way her heart beat?
Raquel smiled at him, teary-eyed.
“And you’re mine. Can I say something cheesy, too?”
He nodded.
“I think I started to really fall in love with you when you played me that song, right after we slept together for the first time.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever told me this?” He crooked his head.
“Oh, that’s because it hasn’t clicked in my brain until now. When you played me this song the evening after I moved in with you, I was too overwhelmed to realise it, and you haven’t played it since. I would’ve remembered it if you did.”
Another nod.
“I remember the warmth in my chest, when you played me this that first time. I didn’t expect to feel so love-struck after only… What? Two days of knowing each other? But I did. You made me feel special.”
“That’s because you are special.”
He twirled her around and then pulled her closer. They rocked calmly to the rhythm of the song, and when the music stopped playing, they just stared into each other’s eyes, until the gang called them to join them at the table.
“We’re all hungry, lovebirds!” Bogota shouted.
“I think we should cut the cake,” Raquel proposed.
“Yes, we definitely should.”
After doing the honours of splitting the cake into parts and giving everyone their plate, they finally sat down at the head of the table to enjoy the party. As they delighted themselves in sweets and champagne, they also engaged in a light-hearted conversation about anything and everything. Denver and Stockholm talked about a trip to Europe they were planning as soon as Verona was old enough to travel and the amusement parks they wanted to bring Cincinnati to. Rio told them about new friends he’d made at his group therapy sessions and how he was navigating life now that he was no longer living in Dominicana with the Ramoses. Helsinki and Palermo laughed about awkward situations they’d experienced when one of them brought someone home—the two of them were no longer dating, but remained close and still lived together, simply because neither of them had particularly wanted the other to move out. Bogota shared good news about expecting his first grandchild, and Marseille showed them all pictures of his dog and her puppies that she’d given birth to a few months ago. And finally, Manila revealed she’d recently started seeing a guy she was totally crazy about.
When they were finished with the cake, Stockholm ordered it was time for presents. Raquel immediately started protesting, and Sergio quickly, after shaking away his initial stun, joined her—neither of them wanted to receive any wedding presents; they were rich enough to buy themselves whatever they needed, and they didn’t need anything lately, and they’d underlined it many times ever since they’d begun the preparations.
“Just trust us, you’re going to love it!” Stockholm tried to calm them down, as the rest brought the ribbon-wrapped boxes.
The two of them started slowly unpacking the gifts.
Inside the first box, there were paper sheets containing various technical graphs and calculations. Projects of water distribution systems were designed by Martin, with Bogota’s help, who explained how they were supposed to work, as the two of them skimmed through the pages. Raquel and Sergio both looked at him, eyes wide in surprise, utterly and overwhelmingly shocked how much time and effort he’d spent to support a project he’d once declared futile and unprofitable, considering how difficult it was to change the entire system, even with the money they possessed.
Raquel and Sergio had begun working on this project ever since before the Bank of Spain heist. They’d wanted to use their resources and the Dalí mask symbol to fight injustice around the world—supporting various acts of rebellion against the exploitative capitalistic systems around the world, funding trade unions and anti-fascist organisations, helping communities grow on more local level. They’d had everything thought out. When Rio had been captured, they’d been forced to shelve those ideas and to adjust them later, after their return, so that no one could figure out that the Dalís were not only alive, but also behind toppling corrupt governments and subsidizing strikes and protests. Now, they were anonymously reviewing strategies and plans belonging to resistance groups and donating money to causes they believe should have more notability and fighting poverty and inequalities in their own area by funding shelters and providing necessary help to those in need. Additionally, Raquel started a foundation that aided victims of domestic violence, and Sergio sometimes taught social studies classes at local schools.
One of the issues they wanted to try to remedy in their neighbourhood was the lack of access to a safely managed water supply and the lack of safe sanitation. Martin’s plans were a complete game-changer.
“Oh, my fucking god,” Raquel muttered under her breath, “this is absolutely amazing. Thank you so much!”
Sergio only managed to nod, overcome with emotions.
“I still think you can’t change the world.” Marin leaned on his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. “But I’d be damned if I didn’t help you anyway.”
“I hope we can still afford it,” she commented, more to herself than to people around her. “Maybe if we withhold funding for a few months and wait for the foundation donors…”
“That won’t be a problem, Lisbon,” Rio interrupted her, pushing the next box, one of quite impressive size, in her direction.
Raquel raised the lid. Inside, there was a new computer. Both, she and Sergio, turned to Rio, raising their brows in question, as they expressed their thanks. Rio, in response, proceeded to explain how he’d programmed the device himself, turning it into something that would allow them to constantly increase their net worth by monitoring the stocks, playing the market when the chances looked the most profitable and… well, that part Sergio barely understood, but it had something to do with cryptocurrency.
“Maybe it won’t raise you six billion dollars to end world hunger, but it surely can help you fund this project of yours,” he concluded.
Sergio chuckled at the memory of them half-jokingly promising on one of their zoom calls last November that if Elon Musk wouldn’t solve world hunger for six billion dollars—which of course he wouldn’t; he was too much of a greedy capitalistic scum for that—as he’d pledged to, on the condition that the United Nation could prepare a plan that would “explain how to do so,” they would take matters in their own hands.
“I’m still considering hacking his accounts and stealing it, by the way.”
“No,” Sergio barked.
“Don’t you dare!” Raquel added in the same very second.
“No dangerous moves that could lead to you getting captured again,” he reminded.
“Okay, fine,” Rio backed down.
Then a much smaller box was handed over—a joint gift from Denver, Stockholm, Manila and Helsinki. They all decided to donate to various foundations around the world, as they figured out it would be the best present, and they put the printed payment confirmations inside the box (along with a lace lingerie set for Raquel that Stockholm and Manila found on one of their shopping gambade). And finally, Marseille gifted them a recently published non-fiction book about resistance movements which included both of their heists.
Raquel and he thanked them all profoundly, hugging them closely, as they tried their best not to break down. Sergio didn’t remember when the last time that he’d found himself so incapable to express his gratitude was. It was a truly overwhelming feeling, and every inch of his body radiated with love and appreciation for his family. He’d been wrong to ever think that personal relationships were a liability.
He glanced at Raquel, hoping she could read his mind. She squeezed his hand in response.
While the gang moved on to the dance floor to start the party, Raquel and he remained on their seats, still too shaken from getting this showered with love that emanated from the gifts they’d received. They sat in comfortable silence, observing how the rest took over the place the two of them had previously been twirling around. But they weren’t the only ones who decided to not join the rest yet—to Sergio’s surprise, Paula approached them, an A4 envelope in her hand. She placed it in front of him.
“It’s more for dad than it’s for you, mom,” she began, looking at Raquel, “but I think you’re going to appreciate it too.”
Sergio’s heart started beating faster.
“Go on, open it.” Raquel nudged him with her shoulder.
He reached for the package and gently opened it with a butter knife. He then pulled out a set of papers with trembling hands, anticipation rising with each millisecond. His breath caught at the sight.
“I thought that since after the heist we all have new identities that would make it possible and legal, we can make it official,” Paula said, her voice muffled, as the world around suddenly drew away.
Sergio was staring at the pages, unable to take a breath, his eyes, once more, full of tears. His chin was trembling, even though the rest of his body was completely paralysed. He froze, overcome with shock, blinking fast, trying to resharpen his vision to make sure that what he was seeing was indeed real.
The words “THE CERTIFICATE OF ADOPTION” were staring back at him. Bold and very real. Something beyond his wildest dreams.
Finally, he took a sharp inhale. A weird sound, something between a sob and a chuckle, escaped his mouth.
“Dad? Are you okay? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Sergio snapped back into reality. He immediately pulled his daughter close. His dam of tears broke.
“Dad? Say something! Do you like it?”
“I— I love it, Paula. I love it so much…” He squeezed her tighter, hoping this embrace would convey what his words couldn’t.
He turned his head over his shoulder to lock his eyes with Raquel’s, wanting to see her reaction. She was crying as well.
“So?” Paula nagged. “Will you sign it?”
“Of course.” He quickly composed himself, though tears of happiness kept streaming down his cheeks, despite his efforts to pull himself together.
Paula handed him a pen, and he filled the papers, his hand still shaking.
“We will finish with the rest of formalities tomorrow, okay?” Putting the pen down, he looked at Paula, seeking confirmation on her part. She nodded in response and, having hugged him again, she ran off to her grandma, who must’ve been watching them this entire time. Marivi nodded at them in approval.
Sergio laughed to himself, exhilarated. It was a rare feeling—to be so happy that it made you want to chortle like a mad man. But he couldn’t help it. If joy could be captured in a single picture, it would portray this moment.
“I think this is the best day of my life,” he confessed, turning his head to look at Raquel again.
“You say that at least once a year, cariño,” she chuckled, winking at him. “But it is the best of my life, too,” she added, her voice as quiet as a whisper. She batted her long lashes at him, almost like a cat, her eyes full of pure adoration, her pupils dilated with affection.
He took her hand and pulled it to his lips, pecking it gently. Heavens, how he loved her!
“You know,” she began after a moment, leaning on him and pulling his arms around her body, “I’ve been thinking about this day and us in general. And I’ll tell you what: I think we were inevitable. From the moment we met, we were bound to happen—there is no version of events in which we didn’t end up together. This day, us getting to celebrate our love among friends and family, them once more becoming a part of our cause with their gifts, Paula handing you the adoption papers... it was always meant to happen.”
He just nodded, agreeing with every word she just said.
“And that is because,” she continued, “you were never not mine. Even in our worst moments.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” he risked uttering, not really trusting his voice. But it came out steady, calm even. Which surprised him, as his heart was fluttering and his muscles tingled from how much he wanted her. “We’ve never not been.”
She lifted her chin to send him a wide grin, and in that moment his soaring heart had never been fuller.
— the end.