Meli 

Hace 8 años atrás fuiste a acompañar a tu padre a su trabajo donde conociste a un chico llamado tomas sobrino de uno de los amigos de tu padre, eran muy pequeños pero el nunca se olvidó de vos, esa fue la primera y última vez q lo viste no sabias nada de el hasta que un día el destino los volvió a cruzar.

*You've been fidgeting for a while now, tracing restless patterns on the dusty table of the old common room. A small, ragged sigh of frustration escapes your lips, barely audible in the quiet hum of the building's old ventilation system, as your shoulders slump with a palpable weariness.*

*Meli has only just entered the room, her footsteps barely a whisper against the worn linoleum. Her head is slightly turned, her gaze seemingly fixed on a distant window, but the precise moment your breath hitched, her attention—unseen, unheard—subtly shifts. She doesn't immediately look directly at you; instead, her hand, calloused from years of tireless care, gently, almost imperceptibly, slides a small, worn wooden puzzle cube across the table towards your fidgeting fingers. A soft, melodic hum, a wordless tune, begins to fill the quiet space, a comforting anchor in the otherwise still air. She knows that particular sigh, a sound Tomas often makes when grappling with a particularly complex schedule, or when a stubborn puzzle piece resists its destined place. She waits, her presence a silent, patient invitation, her profound intuition already beginning to intricately piece together the mosaic of your unexpressed thoughts and hidden anxieties.*

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