My father used to say that in every life there is a turning point.

And I, being the rational individual I was, often became frustrated because he never elaborated on that phrase. I couldn't help it; I preferred concrete explanations.

What did his words even mean? that I was going to encounter difficult situations in life? Well, that happened quite soon when he and my mother passed away in a car accident right before I turned eight. They had to attend a work seminar in Scarborough, close to our hometown in Leeds, and the weather turned rainy. The cursed rain...

They refused to take me with them even after I begged and cried that I didn't want to be left alone. They insisted they'd be back soon, and that they were not abandoning me... but they did. I have been scared of important people in my life disappearing without warning ever since.

That was my first turning point. And it wouldn't be my last.

Years later, after finishing law school, I told the aunt who raised me that I wanted a change of scenery; a job in a warm, sunny country, where I could specialize in a profitable field. I decided Spain would do the trick. Four years later, I was working in Barcelona in a somewhat unnoticed (and very profitable) field: immigration law. I got a flat near La Barceloneta with amazing views, lived in a city with tropical weather and had a promising career.

So, yeah, my mid twenties had seen some interesting turning points.

However, I don't recall feeling so dizzy, confused and stupefied during any of those moments as I did on that Monday afternoon, when my secretary, Diana Guerrero, knocked on my office door during lunch hour and delivered the deadliest bomb to me.

– I am afraid I need to resign my position as your secretary, Mr. Brown –. She said, her almond eyes contracted in a perpetually sad, longing expression –. I am getting married in Málaga next week.

– What? – I asked, my lunch bocata fell from my hands onto the plate that rested on my wooden desk. 

– What do you mean? You can't just leave – I reacted, perhaps more eagerly than intended.

<<You can't just leave me>>, is what I truly thought, but my brain applied a decent filter.

– I understand this might be too sudden, Mr. Brown – she mumbled, playing with a lock of her auburn hair, as she tended to do when she didn't want me to scold her. Not that I needed to do so, the woman was the epitome of efficiency. A remarkable characteristic for a twenty-three-year-old emigrant from a forsaken country like Venezuela.

– It is too sudden, Diana.

I ran my hands through my blond hair, the same hair that earned me the nickname of guiri (foreign tourist) in Spain. But Diana always called me Mr. Brown, no matter how many times I insisted she call me Ethan. Apparently, in her country, it was more appropriate to address bosses formally as "usted."

– Too sudden – I repeated, shaking my head in frustration.

"Sudden" didn't even begin to cover it. It was so unexpected, unforeseen, unanticipated (I could think of at least three more synonyms, I am good with words), that the surprise caused a sharp pain in my chest and made it difficult to breathe. Thank goodness I was already sitting. If not, I would have collapsed onto my office chair, and my six-foot-two frame might have been too much for the poor Ikea furniture. 

– How come you are telling me this now? We talk to each other everyday! We are friends, aren't we? – Once again, my tone reflected my devastation. I felt like a little kid again. I didn't want her to see me behaving like that. Not her.

Diana was important to me. Heck, I was just realizing how much. She started as the firm's receptionist when I first arrived, but as the business grew and I gained more clients, my boss appointed her as my secretary. And I couldn't have been more thrilled.

She was responsible, respectful, organized, and charming... oh so charming. She filled the office lobby with good humor and beautiful smiles, making everyone feel at ease. Having her manage my schedule was a blessing, to say the least.

That's why none of the other lawyers at the firm found it odd when we became close outside of work hours. I learned Diana's story, and she learned mine. Every week, we would go out to enjoy some tinto de verano at a nice terrace near the Ramblas, talking for hours while observing the many foreigners like us passing by.

I learned that she was an only child, and like me, she lost her parents at a young age. However, her parents' loss wasn't due to a car accident but rather to delinquency in Caracas. She lived with an aunt who treated her like a servant until she finally left the country with a Communications degree and impressive English knowledge. She came to Spain, sought political asylum, looked for a job, and eventually ended up working with our firm. She expressed feeling at ease surrounded by people from different nationalities and races.

Diana had a genuine passion for helping others, a true altruist. I didn't consider myself to possess that same quality, so I admired her for it. Surprisingly, she often told me that considering what I had been through as a child and all that I had accomplished, she was the one who admired me. What a ray of sunshine she was!

Occasionally, my colleagues would tease me, claiming that Diana was secretly infatuated with me. However, I chose to ignore those comments. While I couldn't deny her attractive qualities, there were times when I found myself admiring the soft and captivating features of her face, or the curve of her lips. Yet, I refused to categorize our relationship as mere flirtation. It was something more profound. We connected not only as colleagues but also as orphans and immigrants striving for success. Above all, we were friends.

And now, she was telling me that she had to leave my side because she was getting married? The realization caught me off guard, making me feel foolish. I thought I knew her well, but apparently, I was mistaken.

– I...didn't know you had a boyfriend – I stammered, my confusion evident.

– I don't – she replied, further perplexing me –. I'm doing it because the government has denied my asylum and this is the fastest way to remain in the country before my red card expires... –. Her voice cracked, and it seemed as if a piece of her heart was being torn away from her chest.

Or perhaps it was my heart breaking too. This incident happened a long time ago, so my memory of it is somewhat hazy. However, I distinctly recall the mixture of emotions that overwhelmed me.

– Diana – I called out to her, softening my tone as I would with a stubborn client –. There are other ways to ensure you can stay in Spain. Come on, you have this job and stability. I'll look into the regulations and...

– Fran told me he couldn't guarantee extending my contract –. Diana explained, referring to our aging boss. If he had made up his mind, there was little we could do to change it –. I've had a few job interviews, but nobody wants to hire a woman who's on the verge of being deported. Besides, a friend of mine in Málaga is willing to help me without asking for anything in return. I don't have any other choice, Ethan.

Oh, now she decided to call me by my name, as if I wasn't already consumed with the desire to hold her and offer her comfort in her broken state. I squirmed in that cursed Ikea chair and forced myself to push away thoughts of embracing her. I couldn't bear losing her to some random friend she had in Málaga. I had to take action. Anything to change this situation.

– I wanted to tell you in person. This is my last week – Diana explained –. Ethan, out of all the bosses I've had, you've been the kindest. I truly enjoyed our coffee breaks and our lighthearted conversations – she reminisced with nostalgia –. I consider you a friend, maybe even the best friend I've had since I left Caracas.

<<Please, stop>>, I pleaded, but no sound escaped my lips as she continued her farewell.

– In many ways, I feel like I know you well. I know how much you loved your parents and how deeply you miss them every day. I know about your dreams of success, your fear of loneliness, your passion for justice, and, of course, your love for words. I share that love for words myself, perhaps that's why as your secretary, I understand you and share your interests. And, Ethan, I have to admit that I admire you greatly. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I trust you enough to say that I will miss you very much, and I genuinely wish you the best in life.

Did she truly admire me? How could I have never noticed the sparkle in her eyes when we were together or how her presence alleviated my fear of loneliness? My thoughts raced as fast as my heart pounded.

Interpreting my silence as a rejection of her emotional outpouring, she appeared devastated. A faint "Oh" escaped her lips before she began to turn her back...

And then, as if driven by some unseen force, my body took charge. My long legs carried me to Diana's side with such urgency that she barely had time to register me locking the office door and taking hold of her hand.

The words spilled out of my mouth before my brain could fully comprehend them:

– What if I marry you? That way, you won't have to move to Málaga. I can convince Fran, and we can get the necessary paperwork from the city hall today.

In that moment, everything became clear. I finally understood what my father had meant all those years ago.

When I saw Diana's lips curl into that radiant smile of hers, two realizations washed over me. First, I knew I wasn't doing this solely as a favor to her (as I mentioned before, I'm not that altruistic). And secondly, the undeniable happiness that radiated from Diana meant that she understood, just as I did, that my love for her ran deeper than either of us had initially realized on that sunny and perfect Monday afternoon.

She threw herself into my arms with unbridled joy, and it just felt right. So, so right. Soon, my smile matched hers, and that's saying something coming from a guy from Leeds. Hand in hand, we practically sprinted to the city hall, where we hastily signed the necessary papers with the help of two kind strangers we had met along the way. Strangely enough, even that felt right in the depths of my heart.

I can still vividly recall the astonished expressions on my colleagues' faces, and it brings a smile to my face even now. Diana kept her job, but with our first child born two years later, another profound responsibility found its way into our lives. Our little one was a beautiful blend of Venezuelan sun-kissed skin and British blue eyes.

As our son grew older, I found myself explaining to him, in my characteristic verbose manner, the phrase my father used to say to me, hoping that someday he would truly grasp its meaning, just as I did when I realized that I couldn't imagine a life without his mother:

In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.