Ploaia nu se mai oprise, iar zgomotul ei lovea geamurile mari ale apartamentului din Doroban\u021bi. Isabella st\u0103tea \u00een fa\u021ba oglinzii, cu machiajul \u0219ters \u0219i p\u0103rul despletit, lucru rar pentru ea. \u00ce\u0219i \u021binea m\u00e2inile pe mas\u0103 \u0219i privea \u00een gol. \u00cen minte \u00eei revenea mereu aceea\u0219i imagine: semiluna aceea mic\u0103, marcat\u0103 pe pielea b\u0103iatului.<\/p>\n
\u201eNu se poate…\u201d, murmura \u00een \u0219oapt\u0103. \u201eNu poate fi el… dup\u0103 at\u00e2\u021bia ani.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u0218i totu\u0219i, inima ei \u00eei spunea altceva. \u00cei amintea de felul \u00een care Luca o privea c\u00e2nd se pierdea prin gr\u0103din\u0103, de ochii lui mari \u0219i bl\u00e2nzi. De atunci, nicio fotografie, niciun indiciu, nimic. Doar t\u0103cere \u0219i un gol care o sf\u00e2\u0219iase pe din\u0103untru.<\/p>\n
A luat telefonul \u0219i a format un num\u0103r.
\u2014 Mircea, \u00eel \u0219tii pe b\u0103iatul acela de azi? Cel din centrul vechi… Vreau s\u0103-l g\u0103se\u0219ti. Orice ar fi.<\/p>\n
Vocea bodyguardului s-a auzit confuz\u0103, dar ea a \u00eenchis. Nu mai avea r\u0103bdare. Nu putea dormi.<\/p>\n
La prima or\u0103, a ie\u0219it din cas\u0103. F\u0103r\u0103 \u0219ofer, f\u0103r\u0103 haine scumpe. Doar o geac\u0103, o umbrel\u0103 \u0219i o fotografie veche a lui Luca, pe care o purta mereu \u00een portofel. A mers prin pasajul de la Universitate, pe str\u0103zile ude, \u00eentreb\u00e2nd oamenii f\u0103r\u0103 ad\u0103post dac\u0103 \u00eel v\u0103zuser\u0103 pe b\u0103iat. Cei mai mul\u021bi d\u0103deau din umeri.<\/p>\n
Dup\u0103 ore \u00eentregi, o femeie cu un c\u0103\u021bel ud i-a spus:
\u2014 Poate-l g\u0103si\u021bi la cantina aia de l\u00e2ng\u0103 gar\u0103. Copiii str\u0103zii vin acolo seara.<\/p>\n
A alergat. Inima \u00eei b\u0103tea nebune\u0219te. C\u00e2nd a ajuns, era deja \u00eentuneric. \u00cen sala mic\u0103, plin\u0103 de aburi \u0219i miros de ciorb\u0103, a z\u0103rit o siluet\u0103 sub\u021bire la coad\u0103. Acela\u0219i p\u0103r ciufulit, aceea\u0219i hain\u0103 rupt\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u2014 B\u0103iete! a strigat ea, tremur\u00e2nd.<\/p>\n
To\u021bi s-au \u00eentors. El s-a oprit, cu lingura \u00een m\u00e2n\u0103. Ochii i s-au m\u0103rit, dar n-a spus nimic. Isabella s-a apropiat \u00eencet, ca \u0219i cum ar fi vrut s\u0103 nu sperie un vis.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Cum te cheam\u0103?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Radu, doamn\u0103, a r\u0103spuns el, \u0219optit.<\/p>\n
Ea a \u00eengenuncheat \u0219i i-a prins m\u00e2na. Semiluna era acolo. Inconfundabil\u0103. Lacrimile i-au c\u0103zut pe m\u00e2neca lui murdar\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Radu… sau Luca?<\/p>\n
B\u0103iatul a ridicat privirea \u0219i a cl\u0103tinat din cap.
\u2014 A\u0219a mi-au spus to\u021bi… c\u0103 m\u0103 cheam\u0103 Radu.<\/p>\n
\u00cen acel moment, Isabella a sim\u021bit c\u0103 lumea i se \u00eenv\u00e2rte. Cinci ani de t\u0103cere, de vin\u0103, de rug\u0103ciuni. \u0218i acum, b\u0103iatul ei era acolo, \u00een fa\u021ba ei, fl\u0103m\u00e2nd \u0219i pierdut.<\/p>\n
L-a str\u00e2ns \u00een bra\u021be.
\u2014 Nu conteaz\u0103 cum te nume\u0219ti, iubitul meu. Te-am g\u0103sit.<\/p>\n
Oamenii din jur priveau \u00een t\u0103cere. Unii pl\u00e2ngeau. Al\u021bii z\u00e2mbeau.<\/p>\n
Ploaia b\u0103tea \u00een continuare \u00een geamuri, dar pentru prima dat\u0103, Isabella nu mai sim\u021bea frigul. \u021ainea \u00een bra\u021be tot ce pierduse.<\/p>\n
\u0218i undeva, printre umbrele din ora\u0219, o mam\u0103 \u0219i un fiu \u00ee\u0219i g\u0103siser\u0103 drumul unul c\u0103tre altul \u2014 nu prin bani, nu prin putere, ci printr-un semn mic, \u00een form\u0103 de semilun\u0103, pe pielea inimii lor.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ploaia nu se mai oprise, iar zgomotul ei lovea geamurile mari ale apartamentului din Doroban\u021bi. Isabella st\u0103tea \u00een fa\u021ba oglinzii, cu machiajul \u0219ters \u0219i p\u0103rul despletit, lucru rar pentru ea. \u00ce\u0219i \u021binea m\u00e2inile pe mas\u0103 \u0219i privea \u00een gol. \u00cen minte \u00eei revenea mereu aceea\u0219i imagine: semiluna aceea mic\u0103, marcat\u0103 pe pielea b\u0103iatului. \u201eNu se […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8741,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8740","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-povesti"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8740","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8740"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8740\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8742,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8740\/revisions\/8742"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8741"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8740"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8740"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8740"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}