camiswords

[camiswords]

Sansa Sees Me First

Camila Chacon

Before I even park— Sansa knows. She sees me first.

She knows my car. The sound. No mistake.

She’s not locked up. She’s always around the pueblo— by the store, under the trees, in the sun, where everyone knows her.

But when I come back, after months away, she runs behind me like she never forgot.

Barking. Excited. Chasing my car all the way home.

When I open the door, she throws herself down— belly up, tail wagging, waiting for rubs.

She doesn’t ask. She just shows: you’re back. you’re loved. you’re home.

[camiswords]

The Agent Who Let Go

Camila Chacon

OBLIVIA was a covert international agency with secret bases around the world, but its deadliest operations center was hidden deep in the frozen forests of Russia. There, among frost-covered branches and endless surveillance, children were trained from a young age to become weapons. In OBLIVIA, there was no room for innocence. No space for attachment. Love was an infraction. Feeling, a weakness.

Silvana and Elias met in that forest. Not in a playground, but in secret training camps where OBLIVIA’s youngest recruits learned to survive, harden, and kill. The rules were simple: no love, no loyalty, no personal ties. Emotional bonds were forbidden.

And yet—something impossible began to grow.

They were shadows, ghosts, unfinished people. But somehow, between drills and darkness, they found each other. Their connection was a crime. Loving Elias was like planting a bomb with no timer. Silvana never knew when it would explode—only that it would. That danger made it addictive. The adrenaline. The secrecy. The fire. One kiss could destroy everything.

They met in hiding. On missions. Between punishments. Silvana begged him to run away. To escape. To live free. But Elias never did. He preferred the safety of the system, the shield of routine, the comfort of being no one.

Silvana risked everything. She had already been caught once—isolated, punished, broken. All for love. Elias was never punished. And still, he kept coming back. As if he hadn’t left her bleeding. As if her heart was still his to borrow.

She fell—again and again. Not out of hope, but because the past had claws. Every time he returned, her wounds reopened like old codes cracking. She knew he wouldn’t change. She didn’t expect him to.

By the end, their meetings weren’t dreams. They were echoes. Nostalgia with a heartbeat. Elias came back like a ghost who didn’t know he’d died. He wanted her close, but at no cost to himself. If she got caught again, it would mean her death. He knew that. And he still came.

He was cursed. Not by magic, but by design. While she evolved—sharp, deadly, adaptable—he remained the same: cold, precise, distant. His heart had been trained to lure and leave. Never to stay.

Every reunion felt like returning to a crime scene. She could recite his lines before he spoke: “I missed you.” “I still love you.” And then: silence.

It was always the same. Like he shot through her chest and never checked if she bled.

And she did. Every time.

As Taylor Swift once said, he was the smallest man who ever lived. Not in height, but in courage. He only knew how to love her when no one else was watching. When their love stopped being forbidden, it stopped being exciting. The fire died with the secret.

Silvana would have died for him. Taken the fall. Carried the blame. But he died first—inside. Quietly. Still breathing, still completing missions, but hollow.

Their last meeting was in the ruins of the training ground that made them. A collapsed courtyard. The sky bleeding orange. Two former shadows sitting on opposite sides of a broken wall.

“I still love you,” Elias said.

And Silvana believed him.

That was always the problem.

He said it like it was enough. Like it could erase the chapters where he left her for dead.

She stood. Slid a bullet into her holster with the calm of someone who had already mourned.

The shot vanished into the trees.

Some agents disappear in the line of duty. Others disappear long before that.

Silvana was built to survive. And she finally understood: Surviving meant letting him go.