Chapter 6: Remote Access

Glitch

Carla couldn’t sleep.

She sat at her desk, half-watching a silent feed on her monitor. Eli’s living room, two houses down. Dim. Still. Peaceful. He was on the couch, one foot hanging off, the other tucked under him like always.

She knew that position. Knew he was dozing. Knew the rhythm of his body in rest.

She told herself it was about safety. Security. He had installed the system years ago, back when his mother lived in that house. It was Laura’s idea—Mama Caceres’s friend and longtime neighbor. Before she moved away, Laura gave her access to the cameras for peace of mind.

Now that Mama lived next door, and Eli had moved back into his childhood home ... the system was still live. Still running. Still accessible.

And now Carla had the password.

Interference

She flipped to the backyard view. Motionless. Then the kitchen. Empty. He must have cleaned after dinner—she noticed the sponge still drying beside the sink.

She leaned back and muttered, ”¿Qué diablo estoy haciendo...?”

The feed wasn’t the problem. It was the feeling behind it. The ache that came from knowing he was so close—just next door—but unreachable. Watching him live his quiet little life without her right there in it was worse than distance.

She hated this version of herself. The one who watched instead of spoke. Who lingered in shadows instead of standing in the open.

But she wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

Mama Knows

A quiet knock at her door pulled her from the screen. She minimized the feed and spun her chair as Mama Caceres stepped inside, a robe wrapped loosely around her.

“Still up?” Mama asked gently, glancing toward the dark monitor.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Carla replied, not meeting her eyes.

“Mm.” Mama stepped in, barefoot on the hardwood. “You were watching him again, weren’t you?”

Carla didn’t answer.

“Mi amor,” Mama said softly, “You don’t need permission to love someone. But love without honesty? That’s not love. That’s fear.”

Carla swallowed. “It’s not like that.”

Mama raised an eyebrow.

Carla looked away. “It’s not all like that.”

Mama sighed and cupped her cheek. “Then tell him. Before you forget how to stop hiding.”

Temptation

She didn’t turn the feed back on after Mama left.

But she didn’t sleep, either.

The house was too quiet. Her skin too warm. Every memory of the past week looped on repeat—Eli’s laughter. The way he leaned into her during stretches. The heat in his eyes when they brushed shoulders.

She clenched the blanket around her and whispered to the dark.

“Coño ... I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this.”

She wanted him. Needed him. Not as a sparring partner or childhood friend.

But as something real.

And watching him on a screen would never be enough again.