The one that gave in.
“You know what’s the worst?” I said, calmer than I felt. That you didn’t even notice.
Diego frowned.
“Lucía, you’re exaggerating
“No,” I interrupted. I’m waking up.
The silence fell between us.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Outside, Camila’s voice rose, upset.
Where did he get in? He doesn’t even know how to take a joke!
I took a deep breath.
“Tomorrow,” I said. We’re talking tomorrow.
“From what?”
I looked at him for the last time.
“Of money. Property. Everything.
And I left the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
—
That night, no one touched the subject up loud again. But I felt it. In the looks. In the long silences. In the way Camila avoided crossing paths with me, not out of fear… but out of contempt.
As if I’m not even worth making fun of.
I locked myself in the room.
My room.
The one I had so many times to give in.
I pulled an old box out of the bottom of the closet.
Dust.
Memories.
And inside… papers.
I spread them over the bed.
Transfers.
Messages.
Audios saved.
Everything I ever thought I wouldn’t need.
Because I trusted.
How naive I was.
I took the phone.
I sought out a contact I hadn’t been using for years.
A simple name.
“Lic. Ramirez.”
I hesitated for a second.
Just one.
And I pushed calling.
—
The next morning, the sun went through the window like any other day.
But it wasn’t just any day.
I went down to the kitchen early.
I prepared breakfast.
As always.
Eggs. Coffee. Tortillas.
All in his place.
All normal.
Camila was the last one down. He would bring the phone in his hand, checking something with his frown slightly puckered.
He sat down.
He tried the coffee.
“It’s cold,” he said without looking at me.
I didn’t answer.
Diego avoided my gaze.
My in-laws talked about anything.
Like nothing happened.
As if I were still the same.
Then Camila’s phone vibrated.
He looked at him.
Then again.
His expression changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“How weird,” he murmured.
“What happened?” her mother asked.
Camila did not respond immediately. He typed fast.
Then his other phone vibrated.
And another one.
Three.
Four.
Five.
“What’s wrong?” Diego insisted.
Camila got up.
“Nothing… just… a problem in one of the hotels.
But his voice was no longer firm.
She was tense.
He picked up the phone.
He called.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. Why is it closed?
Pause.
His face hardened.
“What kind of inspection?” That wasn’t scheduled!
My father-in-law left the paper.
“Inspection?”
Camila didn’t answer.
He walked back and forth.
