I was going to ticket him for driving 142 km/h, but when I saw that scar on his temple, my blood ran cold. It was him. The man who saved me 12 years ago… and now fate was asking me to return the favor.

She had to settle for anonymous reports. “The transplant was a success.” “The patient is responding well.” “There is complete remission.” Every little bit of news was a victory that Carmen celebrated in solitude, toasting with a glass of wine in her living room, whispering, “Live, Luna, live.”

Months passed. Life returned to normal, but Carmen felt that something had changed within her. She was no longer the same solitary woman focused on her career. She felt connected to something greater.

One day, eight months after the transplant, fate intervened again.

Carmen was off duty, walking through Retiro Park in Madrid, enjoying a spring afternoon. She sat down on a bench to read a book when a ball rolled to her feet.

“Sorry!” shouted a child’s voice.

Carmen looked up and saw a little girl running towards her. She was wearing a pink cap and had short hair, growing back strong after she had lost it. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort.

A man was coming behind her.

Carmen froze. It was Diego. He looked ten years younger than he had that day on the highway. The wrinkled shirt and tie were gone, replaced by a casual t-shirt and jeans. And most importantly, the despair had vanished from his eyes.

Diego stopped when he saw her. He squinted, recognizing her but initially unable to place her outside of her uniform.

“Excuse me…?” he began, and then he recognized her. “My God! It’s you! The A2 agent!”

Carmen smiled nervously.

“Hello.”

Diego approached, and for a moment it seemed he was going to hug her, but he stopped himself